The Bad Batch: Oneshots

Soarin', Flyin'

Context: Takes place before the epilogue. The Marauder is dandy; Tech never plan 99'd himself and is living happily on Pabu with the rest of the batch :)

     Omega batted her lashes against the harsh ray of warmth infiltrating her new room. The young clone turned over, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the bright strip of sunlight that managed to sneak past the blinds Wrecker had just installed. She didn't mind it though. After months of being trapped within sterile labs and grey walls of Tantiss, she welcomed any and all signs of nature that reminded her of the freedom she and her brothers fought for. Omega smiled, seizing Lula into a hug before swinging her legs over the side of her bed. With a wide yawn, the clone dressed for the day in her beautifully handmade Pabu attire. Omega tiptoed through the narrow hallway. She was mindful of those still sleeping— mainly Wrecker who's snores could be heard from a klick away.

Omega approached the bustling kitchen. The smell of burnt bread filled the room with the strong pungent aroma of charcoal. Omega shook her head. It seemed to be the only thing the kitchen smelled of now.

"Good morning, Hunter," she greeted. Hunter— attempting to scrape the black overcooked bits off his toast— tried to discreetly slide the failed breakfast into the trash bin.

"Hey, Omega. How'd you sleep?" The sergeant set an endearing hand on her shoulder as he guided her to the small table. He pulled the chair out, presenting the girl with an already perfectly set spot.

"Pretty good."

Omega reached for the meiloorun juice, pouring herself a full glass.

"So, what will it be today, kid?" Hunter walked back over to the small wooden island, throwing on the colorful patterned apron Omega so kindly brought him at the Pabuian market.

"Hmmm...how about pancakes?"

Hunter raised a brow, placing his hands on his hips. "Again? That's the fourth time this week—"

"Pleaseee?" Omega looked at him with pleading eyes.

How could he tell her 'no' when she looked at him with those sparkling, round, doe shaped eyes? He was a battle harden soldier, trained to withstand torture, but when it came to Omega, he melted without a second thought. Hunter sighed with a growing smile.

"Three pancakes coming right up."

Omega cheered, giving a Wrecker-like pump of the fist in the air while chugging the rest of her drink within seconds.

"Careful, kid. Remember what Tech said about choking hazards," Hunter hollered over from the stove.

"Speaking of Tech, where is he?" Omega asked. She looked over at the empty chair across from her. Tech was usually the first one up, and judging by the clean spot, he hadn't eaten yet.

Hunter recalled the loud argument between the technician and the sniper the night prior. All he made out from the dispute was that Crosshair had supposedly broken the latter's datapad, and knowing Tech, he would have stayed up the entire night to repair it.

"He's probably sleeping. I wouldn't worry—"

"I am right here," Tech's tired voice interjected as he emerged from the corridor.

"Hi, Tech!" Omega beamed as he came and sat down with her. "Hunter's making pancakes if you want any!"

Tech nodded to her with a soft smile. "Thank you, Omega. However, I suggest you eat lightly this morning as I wish to expand your knowledge of the Marauder's instruments beyond Pabu's atmosphere."