Blood-Power

Chapter 3 - Truth Is What You Believe In

Author's Note: Yeah, this chapter's gonna hurt. *sniffles*

~ Amina Gila

There aren't any troops in the hangar when they arrive, and it's a quick process to get their gear back on. Hunter keeps his lightsaber hilts in his hands, though, knowing that he'll undoubtedly need them when they go after Crosshair. It's them against the facility, and Tarkin might realize more of what they're capable of now. They can't take any chances. They don't know, for certain, what Crosshair did or didn't share, and for all they know, he could have reported about their vampire abilities as well.

It hurts to think that he could have betrayed them like that, sold them out, but he's still their brother, and it's not his fault. If they get him back, they can figure out how to handle it from there. "Tech, power up the ship," Hunter begins, stilling entirely when he senses the wave of incoming danger. Worse than that, Crosshair is coming, too, and he doesn't know what that means, much less what's happening to him.

Why is he coming here? With reinforcements, no less? He's... here to stop them, isn't he?

It's not his fault. It's not, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. It's still Crosshair, the brother they grew up with, the one who was always so quick to protect them when a threat arose. It was Crosshair who jumped to defend them, who, despite his sharp and hard exterior, is actually the softest of all of them. It's Crosshair, who's chosen to curl with one of them every single night since his turning, preferring the comfort of companionship and feeding over being alone. It's Crosshair, who is coming here to... what? Capture them again? Kill them?

Hunter has no idea, and even reaching out to Crosshair over their bond is met with a sharp, vicious mental shove. Stay in your own mind, he snarls at him telepathically, and Hunter withdraws, stung.

It's not really Crosshair, but it hurts like it is him, nevertheless.

The hangar doors open, and they all duck down behind the crates, knowing who it is without even having to ask. Tech darts up the ramp to fire up the engines, radiating feelings of determination and resentment. He doesn't look back, and Hunter can feel him going to the cockpit.

Wrecker makes a quiet, wounded noise. "Why is he doing this?"

"It's not his fault," Omega pipes up from next to Hunter. "He can't help it."

They all know that, but that doesn't make it any easier to face.

Crosshair is outfitted in all-black armor, helmet tucked under one arm, a rifle in the other. It's new gear because they have his aboard the Marauder already. He feels... cold. Empty. Angry. And it terrifies Hunter. Crosshair's anger has always been a weapon on their side, and he doesn't know what it will mean to have him against them, especially when he's a vampire, too. He could kill them. He knows how to do it, and Hunter doesn't want to think that Crosshair would go that far for any reason, controlled or not, but he doesn't know that. He hates that he feels the need to register him as a threat now, an enemy to be neutralized and dealt with accordingly. Stars, he can't hurt his own brother.

Behind Crosshair is at least a full platoon of regs, maybe more, but they're vastly outnumbered. Clearly, Tarkin isn't playing around, and it makes Hunter wonder if he does know about them being vampires. Or does he really think Hunter, as a semi-trained Force sensitive, is that strong?

The regs fan out, ducking behind crates, blasters held at the ready, and just by looking at them, Hunter knows that they'll never be able to get to Crosshair and get him out if he's fighting them. Yes, they can move fast, but not that fast, and if Crosshair is shooting at them, it'll be impossible.