Call It Freedom

Chapter 18 - Thought We Built

Author's Note: Must be pretty obvious that their chips were activated. :D Also, I had sooo much fun writing Hunter like this! It was. An interesting experience. xP

I'd appreciate it if you checked out Out of Time, where the Batch post-S2 end up scattered across the galaxy back during the CW. :D

~ Amina Gila

There's a strangely subdued silence as they gear up, strapping their armor and weapons in place as they've done so many times in the past. Hunter still can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, though he can't pinpoint what no matter how hard he tries. They're still wearing the armor they always have, though he doubts it'll last – Crosshair's armor was totally different when they saw him again. He knows Tarkin wants to control them, wants to turn them into weapons, and he – so long as Echo and Omega and the rest of his family are safe, he'll do whatever he has to, whatever he's told.

(It's... familiar. A little. He can't quite say how or why, but there's something – something –)

So long as they stay together, it'll be fine.

He's been in charge of so many missions throughout the war, and this one is really no different. The target is different, a little, but... well, orders are orders, and a mission is a mission, right? He doesn't have to like it. (He killed regs on Bracca to keep his brothers safe; he would do it again, too. There is nothing he wouldn't do for family. He lost them once. Never again.)

"Do you need pain meds still?" Hunter asks Tech finally, spinning his vibroblade before sliding it into its sheath as Crosshair checks over the pieces of his rifle.

Something flickers in Tech's eyes, and his expression tightens as he looks at him. "Yes," he answers, "I took some."

He should ask him what happened, should ask what the Empire did when they took him, but he looks okay, and they – they need to focus on the mission, so they succeed. Taking down Gerrera is of utmost importance, especially since, if they fail, they... may never see each other again. A sharp pain stabs him at the mere thought. No. That's not going to happen.

Tech opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then, his eyes slide to Wrecker and Crosshair, and he merely turns away, back to his datapad. Hunter frowns slightly at that, but shrugs it off, because they don't have time for distractions anyway.

He tenses, instinctively, when they get to the hangar to see the elite squad who is going with them, and nausea sweeps through him. He knows them. Well, not knows them, but he saw them, shadowing Crosshair, and it makes him sick to see them. Seeing them, he expects violence, and... working with them will not be easy. At all. Great.

Crosshair shifts closer to him, obviously seeing Hunter's reaction, no matter how fast he tucks it away. None of them say anything though, as they board the shuttle and take off for Onderon. It's hard to focus on planning when he can feel the natborns watching them, judging them. He's still the leader though, still in charge of the mission, and that gives him a small measure of comfort.

"Why would they put him in charge?" one of the men whispers to one of the other troopers, though she doesn't respond.

Hunter narrows his eyes but ignores the comment. Or, at least, he was going to ignore it altogether, before Crosshair plucks the toothpick out of his mouth, flicking it into the man's face, narrowly missing his eye. "Problem?" he drawls.

The man splutters, and Hunter glances sideways to see Crosshair's little, smug smirk that he's missed so much. The trooper bristles, stepping forward, glaring at Crosshair. "Tell me this, clone," he says, spitting it as though it's an insult, "If you all are so efficient, how come the Empire's scouting soldiers like us? Sounds to me like it's time for a change."