Tis another Bad Batch story...:) This one is...what you could call a fanfiction of a fiction of Cuthalion97's In the Shadows. The prompt was from chapter (quick check)...27 where Vos and Crosshair start talking about podracing...apparently not knowing that the com was open and that Tech was listening in...And also apparently, the guys have taken measures to ensure that he doesn't get any irrational ideas about racing himself...(Timewise, this is supposed to happen right after they leave Nal Hutta) (I did get permission to do this first, just in case you're wondering) Might be an AU to the story timeline though. Idk. :)
(Also, if - in the first part at least - the Bad Batch seem a little darker, don't worry; for my action writing style, that's typical and this is closer to how I think of them...but not quite it entirely. :)
Soundtrack for the racing part is a Need for Speed racing mix. Unfortunately, I didn't find it until the last two days of writing, but at least I found it XD
The bar was sleazy. Of course, most of them were, but this one was the sleaziest Tech thought he'd ever been in. Just the way the music set the mood along with the dim lighting...the way the people clumped, some hunched over their tables while others seemed...draped? Over the others?
He shuddered and glanced away. Probably better not to know.
Hunter lead the way, striding confidently over to a nearly empty booth, the other Bad Batchers tailing after him. The person they were meeting sat with his knees crossed and his feet kicked up on the table, hands clasped casually behind his head to allow the two women on either side of him to be leaning comfortably against his shoulders. He looked up when the Bad Batch stopped at his table and smirked.
''I'm surprised you showed up,'' he lifted a teasing eyebrow, sipping his cocktail, ''When the message said time would be a problem, part of me wondered if you'd run into trouble.''
Hunter - who had his helmet off - scowled darkly and hissed, ''It also said 'come alone.' ''
He curled his lip in a disdainful glance at the two woman...and jerked his head back for them to leave, crossing his arms over his chest. ''This is between us.''
Their contact sighed dramatically, sitting up. ''Sorry, girls. Apparently he doesn't appreciate how you can be...encouraging for me.''
He gave each one a kiss on the jaw before motioning for the Bad Batch to set aside so they could leave.
''Poor poor idiot. Probably doesn't even care for a different style of life.''
Standing behind him, Tech noticed how Hunter's fist clenched ever-so-slightly tighter then it had been. Didn't natborns get it? It was because he cared that he was so serious about the topic. All clones were. They lived half-lives. They only got one, short shot...if any and they didn't want to mess up. There were just some who seemed to care more than others.
Dramatically reluctant, the two females finally stood, after all the flowery ways of saying goodbye that was enough to make a man sick...And because he didn't have his helmet, Hunter had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and glance away. As they left, one slid her hand across his shoulder before he jerked to break contact.
''Pretty things, aren't they?'' the contact commented wistfully the moment they were out of sight, glass in hand.
The sergeant's disgusted expression never changed. ''Looks don't mean a thing if she isn't going to be around for long.''
''True, true,'' he mumbled, not even bothering to notice the implied undertone to Hunter's statement while gesturing for the sergeant to sit across from him.
''So,'' he glanced at the other three, scoffing, ''what are they? Your body-guards? Big tough guy like you needing a little extra protection for your manliness cause you can't keep an eye on all of it?''
Barely had the words fallen from his lips when he gasped as Hunter's fingers curled around his neck and slammed him down, chin banging against the table top before he was jerked back up to stare into Hunter's now pale grey eyes.
''I don't pull stunts,'' he spat, ''but if I did, I'd do my dirty work myself.''
''Okay,'' the contact choked, rubbing his neck as he was released. ''Okay *cough* got it.''
He coughed a few more times while Hunter tapped his finger against the table, waiting...He knew the other three standing over them would make the contact start to feel boxed in and that was what he wanted. People who were scared tended to talk more under the right conditions. One just had to know what those conditions were...
''Well?'' he prompted, ''I said time would be a problem...I haven't got all day...''
Was that a whimper he heard? No, surely not. Not over all that noise...it had better been. He hadn't left his prompt off as a threat for no reason. He didn't have all the time in the world...Straightening, the contact cleared his throat one final time, recomposing himself despite the now obvious nervousness that colored his actions.
''Well...now that we understand each other...''
He swallowed tightly, not needing to peer up to know that Hunter was unimpressed and expected him to start. It appeared he had only just realized what type of men he was now dealing with...so, he tried, holding out his hand.
''Gentlemen, I'm Lance Narune...'
Hunter studied him for a moment, making sure to pause long enough to add to the effect...then gave a sharp nod, ignoring the hand. ''Hunter.''
When he suddenly realized that was all the answer he was going to get, Lance nodded, pulling back his hand. ''Okay, what do you need?''
''We were told you have access to the supply logs.'' Resting his arm on the table, he leaned in, ''If you know what comes in, you know who brings it...correct?"
''So you're looking for someone who knows supply lines?'' Lance sneaked a glance over at the other three, ''How'd you find me then? There's not a lot of ports here.''
''Recommended,'' Hunter replied evenly (almost conspiratorially), ''The middle man prefers to keep anonymous.''
''Well, I'm typically not the type to-''
''His name isn't important..''
Lance heard the unspoken threat and nodded quickly.
''Sure, sure. Plenty of people here prefer to keep to themselves.'' he shrugged, still slightly nervous. ''I can understand that. Never give anything away, right?''
''That's generally the idea.''
''So..Uh, when do you need the copies of th-''
''I want the originals. You keep the copies.''
''The originals!'' Lance gaped, ''I don't even have access to the originals! The copies are all I have.''
''Then I suggest you tell me where they are or we just find someone else who does have access to them. It's the originals or nothing. Digital copies can be changed and that wouldn't help me all that much.''
''Well..'' Lance licked his lips, ''Okay, when do you need them by?''
Hunter's grey eyes never even blinked, voice calm.
''When's the soonest you can get them?''
Uh oh; this might be a problem...
''Well, no one really does business. Not at this season.''
''Why not?''
Ah, that was the crack Lance had been looking for. If they didn't know why no one was willing to work during the Black moon, then there was probably a bunch of other stuff they didn't know about the place. He straightened in his seat a little more, more confident now. He could work this...
He was confident now. Hunter didn't like that. It meant that Lance knew something - more then they did - and was planning on using it against them.
What did I miss?
''See,'' Lance began, delicately steepling his fingers in front of him. ''In four nights, there is going to be what we here call a Dark moon. Used to be a thing of legend that was supposedly a sign of bad luck and that some one would die within a week...which, naturally, that added a curse to the legend. Once the settlers came, they changed that into another festival - Hutts you know. They love their parties and money exploits - that...recreates the legend in a whole other manner. And since that time, no one has ever done work during the Dark moon again as that would be the perfect time for something...unfortunate to happen.''
Raising an eyebrow, Hunter glanced at Tech before peering back at their contact.
''Why is is called a Dark moon?''
His shrug was a little too easy.
''Bad luck, death, sorrow...all the superstitious reasons. Literally though, it's an solar eclipse. All the moons line up behind one and that one hides the twin suns..Which also happen to be aligned to form a optical double.''
''Then why does no one stay out if it's just an eclipse?''
Ah, keep professing your ignorance..
''Again, superstition. Tradition. Passed experiences with such things.'' he lifted a brow, almost tauntingly, ''It will be imitating night, will it not? That also means that whatever we fear at night will be around in the day.''
Lance leaned in, ''And we wouldn't want to get caught by that...now would we?''
The music had grown dull in their ears; the chatter reduced to a muffled white noise. Hunter glared across the table at the man, choosing his next words carefully.
''If no one will work during a Dark moon, how long will we have to wait before they open up again?''
''Tradition has it several weeks. Into mid next month at least, I'd say.'' he paused ''However, I might be able to break that if you prove lucky enough to risk surviving the Dark Moon's curse.''
He smiled smoothly as Hunter's eyes narrowed further. He didn't like the situation. Good.
''What do you mean?''
''Well, if picking the champ in a podrace before the race has begun and it turns out to be correct, then I don't know what screams luck more than that. If you have the luck to pull it off than maybe I'll risk the curse to help you...assuming there's still a fee involved.''
''Why would we have to bet on the race and why not just get it over with?''
''As I said,'' he purred, ''People around here are superstitious and they all claim they've seen unfortunate lads try to break the curse but all have failed.''
''Then why are you offering?''
''I'm not superstitious by nature, it's more of a profit venture. If people think I'm trying to break it, then it's less likely I'll be eating very long.''
Mulling it over, Hunter tensed, tapping one finger against his thigh before looking up carefully.
''What would we have to do?''
''Simple. Go to the races and place a bet. If you win,'' he shrugged, ''I risk my neck and find a way to either get you the originals or I tell you where you can find it. Shouldn't be too hard. The race has to have twelve racers total; No more, no less. One in twelve chance isn't all that bad compared to the big races where there are at least twenty-seven or so.''
Inhaling, the sergeant sat back in his seat for the first time, eyebrow raised as he stared at the table top. Twelve racers...
''How many are signed up?''
''Eh, bout eight or so. They won't have the race if only those eight race though. And even if the race doesn't happen, people will still be shut down. Granted, there is still another three days at least. Well, now...'' he gestured casually, ''What do you want to do, eh?''
''I'll think about it.''
Lance's smirk dropped. ''Think about it?''
''Yeah...''
Hunter shuffled out of the booth, turning to walk away when Lance called, ''Hey, how will we get in contact if you decide to take my offer?''
Pausing at the door, he peered over his shoulder, ''If I could find you the first time, I can find you again.''
Without another word, he stepped out into the torrid afternoon of Tatooine.
Back at the Marauder, Hunter paced the ground, tapping his forefinger against his crossed arms. How were they supposed to know who to bet on? They didn't know anything about pod racing. But when he asked the others...Tech sheepishly edged away.
What to do, what to do, what to do...
''Well, guys? Any suggestions?'' he tried again.
Tech thought about it for a moment, glanced at Crosshair - who shook his head furiously - then nodded, ''Bet on me.''
Hunter just blinked.
''I'm sorry, what?''
''Bet on me,'' Tech repeated, eyes brightening with excitement before he glanced away sheepishly, ''I already have a pod and it races rather well.''
It took a hot minute, but then his words clicked with Hunter's brain.
''You what!'' he cried.
''I built a pod racer.''
''Why? What possessed you to build a pod!?''
Tech shrugged, ''I wanted to see how they were built and what gave them speed. I had the inkling that whatever boosted power through the pod turbines might work on the Marauder's engines as well. Thus I sketched out plans to build one.''
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Hunter sighed.
''Tech, Tech, Tech...'' he muttered.
''Well, Crosshair's been working on it with me, so I'm not the only one here at fault.''
The sniper glared at him, holding up his hands placatingly at Hunter, ''I only did that to make sure he wouldn't kill himself while testing this thing out.''
''But that fact is you knew about it and didn't tell me!''
''Yes, but-'' Tech began.
''No buts. Tech, you can't race.''
''Hunter, there are twelve racers needed and right now there are only eight. They need a few more. That's a one in twelve chance of getting the answer to Lance's bet right. But if you know one of the racers-''
''Then you have to deal with the potential death of that person. No.''
''Hunter,'' Tech said, his voice calm, ''I'm the best pilot we have. I have the training course; I have the pod; allow me to do this.''
...The sergeant was silent for a long moment, frowning thoughtfully. Then he glanced over at Crosshair.
''Have you seen him run the course?''
One nod.
''Did he do it within the right speed range and stay clear of all the obstacles?''
Again, one nod.
''You helped him with maintenance of this thing?''
Crosshair once again nodded.
''Well...'' Hunter crossed his arms, staring down at the ground.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't willfully let his squadmate do something so stupid. He just couldn't. Then again, they needed those records to track down the slavers. But come on, wasn't there a better way to get the port logs? There had to be; he just had to think about it...And he did. But nothing was coming to him. Finally, heaving a sigh, he nodded.
''Tech, you get that thing ready. I want to see you practice and Crosshair will be your pit crew if you need it, but..yeah. I don't really see any other option. But,'' he held up a finger, ''that doesn't mean I'll let you do it. I just want to see the pod and the race course so I can think about it. Nothing more. We'll look over it tomorrow.''
Beaming, Tech just nodded, motioning for him to follow him. Yes, he knew Hunter still might shoot down the option, but given the likelihood of them finding any other option (that was still marginally within the law) was practically nonexistent. But thinking about it, oddly he didn't mind that too much. Part of him had always wanted to race...
The Next Morning...
''Oh Maker help us,'' Hunter muttered under his breath as Tech showed off the pod, hopping in it like a kid on a speeder.
It was early morning on Tatooine, the twin suns just beginning to peak over the edge of the horizon...Or, might have been, had the four men not been in the canyon. They were standing on the natural dirt ramp that descended from the plateau, Tech's pod hovering just a few feet over the practice track.
Dark grey in color with a red racing stripe down the middle of the body, it was just big enough to fit Tech, squeezing his legs a little but any larger and the pod would be disqualified. The two turbines were sleek, the same dark color as the car, connected by a red-ish orange energy bindings that crackled harshly when activated.
It was all handmade (and it showed) and by no means flashy in any way, shape, or form...but during the test run it did its job during the test course. The speed was just in the sweet spot of 700-750 kilometers per hour for pod racing and Tech's control over the racer was somewhat encouraging to see. Still, Hunter wasn't too thrilled about the fact that soon enough, he would have to send out the youngest Bad Batch member quite possibly to his death...alone. If something went wrong, no one could help him.
Before they had arrived that morning, Hunter had spent the whole night researching the podracing sport. The odds he was seeing were not encouraging. At the races, they didn't even have medics on stand-by because so few people survived pod crashes.
There were reasons podracing had been outlawed in the Inner Rim.
Looking at pod, Hunter could only shake his head. How were they supposed to do this? It wasn't that he didn't trust Tech's skills as a mechanic and inventor, just...he didn't trust Tech's skills as an inventor and mechanic. Not to mention the fact that the speeds alone could probably kill a person by itself if endured long enough; the armor would help with that, but it couldn't stand up to everything.
That, and right now, he wasn't trusting Tech's confidence in the situation.
True, it was good for one to have the trait; but when one was practically asking for a dangerous death for something that Hunter didn't consider worth it enough, it became more of a liability rather than a help. Still...there weren't a lot of options.
The reason the Bad Batch had been picked for this job was because they weren't noticeably clones and in working in Hutt space, that was important because that meant that - just by looks or gear - they wouldn't be associated with the Republic. But that only worked if they didn't get caught and interrogated; which is why they couldn't just break into the port offices for the logs. True, the Republic and the Hutts had an agreement; but with crime lords, one never knew what would be considered a treaty violation.
Breaking and entering along with unauthorized search and seizer of documents was rather obviously a violation with anyone.
So far, the race was the only opportunity that had presented itself that would work in their favor.
Squeezing his eyes shut as he took a deep, dry breathe before opening them to see Tech returning from his third course run, Hunter shook his head. Why was this so hard for him? Everyone else seemed to be taking it just fine. Granted, they weren't the ones calling the shots and making sure everyone got back alive. They pretty much did the later anyway (they were a rather close-knit squad, after all), but it was the first that allowed for it.
Ignoring the tussle between Tech and Wrecker over the thick-coated grime on the pilot's face, Hunter sighed. How many times had he tried to talk himself into and out of the situation?
Well, either way, much as he didn't like it, he'd made his decision...He only hoped it was the right one.
Two days later...
Outside, the air was hot and dry, coating the ground with a thick layer of sand; but that didn't stop people from being outside. Not on the day of the Dark Moon race - which was the only thing they would risk being caught outside for on the same day as the natural phenomenon. Faded banners hung on the shop fronts, booth owners called out to the crowd to look at their wares, people milled about in all directions. Noise jostled for air room though there was little to be found amidst the bustling town.
Inside the hanger, the noise was dull, air cool, and people were mostly huddled in small groups. In the back corner, in stall ten, Hunter and Wrecker watched as Tech and Crosshair made the final adjustments to the racer. As he looked on, Wrecker shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, fiddling with his hands behind his back. Hunter stood nearly rigid, gaze locked with the other two's movements. Finally, Tech straightened, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.
Turning to glance over his shoulder at him, he gestured at his pod racer, grinning proudly.
''Okay, Sarge, everything is ready.''
Hunter just nodded.
It was the all-clear signal and the race was fifteen standard minutes away. Translation: it was time to leave. Whatever he wanted to say, now was his last chance.
He had thought out several times what he was going to say; make sure he told the kid 'be careful', 'good luck,' 'see you on the other side' and what in the right order...But as he was about to say his spiel, hands shaking slightly behind his back, he looked Tech in the eye. Immediately, his words caught in his throat as - not for the first time - the thought crossed his mind that this might be the last time he would see their little brother alive. His mind went blank and everything he had wanted to say wouldn't render themselves to service.
But what did it matter? Words were just words when they were said just to sound flowery. The real words that mattered were the ones that said the most while saying the least. He tried one more time to force the words passed the block in his throat...than closed his mouth and merely gripped Tech by the shoulder, staring him hard in the eye.
''See you when you cross the finish line,'' he heard himself say.
If that was what he said, his voice sounded distant to his own ears. Yet despite the hint of rasp scraping by in his words, Tech understood the rest of the unspoken message.
''See you when I cross the finish line,'' he murmured back, squeezing the hand on his shoulder. Then he turned back to the pod to push it out into the arena. The sergeant's point had come across and it was time to go.
And with that, he did all he could do: he turned and walked away.
Although the atmosphere was excited and festive, Hunter felt his stomach sinking in his gut with every step he took away from where Tech and Crosshair were prepping the pod as he made his way up to the stands with Wrecker.
He could deal with his squad mates pulling separate jobs, he could deal with them choosing their own decisions in a mission...but why couldn't he deal with sending a squadmate off to aid a squad mission if it meant he would be the determining factor for the success of a mission? What was it about that that just set him on edge? He knew it wasn't that he didn't trust his teammates; he did.
He just didn't want to lose anyone.
Looking up as Wrecker nudged him, he followed the taller clone over to the platform they had been assigned when Tech had entered the race. Each racer had a special camera trained on them throughout the race for the fans and sponsors to get a better view of what was going on and how the racer was doing. Honestly, Hunter wasn't sure if he preferred that, or if he would have rathered not knowing what was going on during the races. Either way, he knew his eyes would - for the most part - be glued to the screen anyway once it started.
The sergeant glanced at his wrist-chrono. Ten minutes.
Out on the track, the pods were beginning to pull up. Twelve pods, distinguishable by the colors and pit crew sizes. Twelve different people, hot shot pilots yelling at the crews while the newer pilots pulled their own safety checks. One winner...and quite possibly the only survivor.
Figures blurred and hazy through the heat waves, they could just make out Tech and Crosshair working on the Destiny - what Tech claimed Crosshair had rather poetically named the pod after the first (known) test run - below. The only black and red pod, it was easily distinguished from the others.
Nine minutes.
The final pod checks were happening while the announcer called off each of the pilots names, pausing after each contester to allow the noise to die down. Cheers and boos bellowed from the crowd. In the stands, Hunter winced, wondering how much longer he had until his sensitive ears started ringing permanently. But glancing over at Wrecker, he noticed he didn't seemed all that effected...Granted, that was probably because he aiding in the uproar as one of the louder voices there.
Back on the track, the pilots began boarding as the announcer gave the pit crews the final warning to clear the track. Glancing over at Crosshair, Tech felt his heart pounding in his chest; It was happening; It was really happening; He was about to be in a pod race!
His hands were shaking slightly with excitement and he could barely keep the breathing steady. Beside him, Crosshair put a hand on his shoulder, handing him his helmet before giving him a final nod of good luck before he followed the other pit crew members off the track. He watched him go for a moment, then took a deep breath, tugged on his helmet, and hopped into his pod racer.
It was almost time.
He was ninth place in the order and because of that, he couldn't see the opening flags that well, but he was too focused on the race ahead to notice. Absently brushing his fingers against the side of his pod, he tried taking a deep, calming breath.
Over the loud speakers, the announcer's voice crackled, ''Now, ladies and gentlemen, let the race begin! Racers, start your engines.''
Flicking switches as fast as he could, Tech went on full mental autopilot. There was no time to think and no time to second guess. He just had to rely on his skills as a pilot and his helmet to tell him where to go. The engines were on, filling the air with the electric humming that set the tune to his beating pulse. Sweat beaded on his forehead under the helmet, the stifling heat of Tatooine not helping one bit. In front of him, the turbines whirred, red orange energy-bindings crackling between them.
His hands gripped the controls.
Ahead and above them on the overhead arch, the lights flicked to life.
Red...
Orange...
BANG! The gong thundered...
Green.
Go!
Jerking the controls forward, he felt the quick blow of wind and then was gone. He had a race to win.
Tech was doing well, he had to admit. Hunter watched as Tech veered around the track, completely focused and in no particular hurry. He knew what he was doing and he trusted his skills. That was good...especially because (although he didn't say it) Hunter certainly didn't. Granted he wasn't the one in the pod...and he was glad he didn't.
Just watching was hard enough.
At the moment, Tech was navigating his way through a sparsely lit cave, having to dodge rock formations with merely his lightning fast reflects and helmet. Out of the original twelve racers, there were eight left. One had died by crashing into a rock column. Another two had gone down in a fiery blaze because of improperly built pod racers.
The other had crashed in the dark of the cave, just in front of Tech's pod and he had to swerve out of the way before a piece of a turbine flew by, hitting another racer just behind him.
Not daring to glance behind, Tech gave a shaky mental shrug.
Oookay. Make that seven racers left.
Squeezing the controls, Tech shot out of the cave and into the canyon. Another five miles down barely before a minute was over, he passed under the starting rock bridge, ignoring the cheers from the crowds as the racers went by. One lap down, two to go...
Lap two...They were down to the top four racers, the two leaders necking it out a couple of meters in the front while Tech was in third, and the final contestant was gaining on him.
Of the race sections that all Pod tracks had, they were just about to hit lap two of the hardest section. The tunnels. It was a near single file lane with rare pockets to charge ahead. Hit the pocket at the wrong time and you would crash. Inside, under several thousands macrotons of rock, they went head first through the dark, track still visible only by the green neon rope lights dug in to it. Still, they could barely see. Everything was shadowed and lit ominously from below.
Shift left, ease right, bank hard. They were running on nothing but skill and luck. Tech glared through his visor at the flickering shape of the running up pod, tracking its near every move. Everything flashed by, leaving no time for second guessing. Just up ahead, there was an extra curve in the wall! There was a pass-pocket (as it was called) coming up. He didn't question why, his grip on the joysticks shifted and he curved smoothly around the runner-up.
Second place. One more place, one more lap to go.
CrANk!
Tech jerked forward as the near whip-lash pulled him back. The pod in third had just rammed him from behind! A flash of panic gripped him as he saw the light at the end of the tunnel grow bigger...but slower and the racer in first speeding away.
There was only one response he could give to the feeling of loss that set in his gut: No.
He glanced back once, steadied his grip, rocked his racer back and forth, slowly rattling it from the others grip. When it was held on only by what seemed a thread, he slammed on the brakes, crushing the connection with an echoing ClaNk! before smashing the joysticks down.
Wind and dust was the last thing the pods in third and fourth place saw before crashing just before they exited the tunnel.
It was the final lap. Tech could feel his blood pulsing and hands shaking as he passed under the arch. It was just him and the lead, Pod C97 with copper and green; it was just a few meters ahead. And in pod racing, those few meters didn't mean much. They streaked by, side by side in the canyon. Above them, just as they came out of the bend, sniper bolts hailed from the ridge.
Tusken raiders aimed for the turbines, trying to make sure their territory was to stay that way. Several bolts bounced off the pods, but one struck C97's connecting cable, staggering the pod midflight for a moment...and just when the canyon was narrowing.
It was go or lose.
He went.
But just as he dove for the canyon's end, a shadow crossed him. Glancing up, he just had time to duck and hit the air brakes before C97's pod nearly ripped his head off as it shot ahead.
He growled under his helmet, eyes flicking to the target system, locking a signal on the pod. He wasn't going to loose it - not now, not so close. Following the lead, he matched it move for move as he waited for an opening. They were so close to the end.
There were two sections left: the columns and the final stretch. They had just entered the pillars of stone when Tech had to split off from his hard follow to escape a rock pillar and the other racer vanished from sight. He didn't like it, but until the racer returned, he couldn't get a lock on the signal. Just as he wove between the columns, C97 came out of no where, ramming him in the side. He staggered, falling behind slightly while the other tried to take a solid lead...but Tech wasn't about to let that happen.
''Time to fight dirty.'' he muttered, veering to avoid another blow. He waited for the stagger that came with his evade...and rammed back, driving the other pod into the wall, cutting the connecting cable from the turbines; and the pod dropped from the air, skidding to an unharmed stop. But now, there was no competition and it was an easy ride from there. He was going to win!
He wasn't far from the finish line. He was almost done!
Everyone could see him kicking up dust in the rocky plain of the final stretch. Cheers were sounding from the stands, bellowing across the sand. But it was all too soon for it. After all, he hadn't crossed the line yet.
It was in the last mile away. The bolts that had hit the pod must have struck the engine because within seconds of coming into sight, the turbines were smoking. Zooming in through the camera, Hunter saw warning lights flashing off Tech's helmet screen. The panic from earlier returned.
Oh kriff, oh kriff, he's going to crash.
He wasn't sure how he knew...he just knew...
As if on command, several yards away from the ending line, the pod dropped from it's speeding hover.
Everything stopped. As if in slow motion, everyone watched as it tumbled to the ground, flipping against a rock before going into a barrel roll several times until it finally staggering to a halt. In the stands, everyone held their breathe. Fear seizing his throat, Hunter dashed for to the crew bay, Wrecker hot on his heels. Crosshair stood with his arms crossed, a heavy frown on face but stayed where he was, stopping Hunter from going much farther. They waited...
A small, battered, and dusty helmet popped up from the bottom of the pod. Taking a quick glance around, Tech stood up, grinning as he ripped off his helmet and shouted, ''I made it!''
Sure enough, the pod had halted just passed the finish line.
There was a pause, then everyone cheered. Surprisingly, Wrecker was the first one to make it to the pilot, crushing him in a big bear hug until he coughed and told him to let go. The others just laughed. They could now that it was over. It was over and Tech was safe.
Releasing the breathe he had been holding, Hunter gripped Tech's shoulder.
''You did good, bro. You did good...''
Grinning at him, Tech nodded. That was all he needed to know...
Time: Two in the morning.
Ship: Havoc Marauder.
Destination: Malachor.
Current location: Exact location unknown.
Groaning to himself, Tech rolled his eyes, tossing onto his other side, trying to ignore Wrecker's snoring in the bunk across the room. Seriously? Why was it that whenever he was having what the others were probably talking about when they meant 'pleasant' dreams, someone or something always disturbed him before he could end it?
He attempted to return to sleep; however, the atrocious noise Wrecker was making simply was not allowing it and his blood was still pumping from adrenaline. There wouldn't be any way for him to sleep now. Instead, he decided to check the Marauder's systems since that was his custom. As he did, he couldn't help thinking back to the race and how he had won with a pod he had made. If it had been real...how would it have happened?...that would require a pod first. Wait, what had the schematics been for the Destiny? Could he still remember those?
He could. Maybe he could actually build it!...But he'd have to finish checking the Marauder's systems first before he ever began making plans.
Still, the prospect of a new project was exciting. He couldn't help muttering to himself about everything he had in hand and everything he would need to put it all together. It must have shown on his face too because when he walked by the kitchen area Vos glanced up at him, smirking.
''Good dream?'' he asked.
''I believe it was.''
''How'd it end?''
''I won.'' he replied, moving out of view.
''Oh Maker forbid the day that would become more than a dream...'' Hunter muttered into his caf cup...Then out of the corner of his eye, Vos saw Hunter pause mid sip.
''Waaaaait a second. He was muttering about turbine power...right?''
''Yeah, what about it?''
Hunter didn't answer right away, thinking before slipping out of his seat.
''I'll be back.''
Moments later, he returned with Crosshair.
Lifting an eyebrow, Vos glanced at them.
''Did you need to grab something?''
The sniper, who sat across from him, smirked.
''That's one way of putting it.''
For a second, the Jedi considered asking 'point of information' for the guys to expand upon the answer, but decided against it. He wanted to live.
''Do any of you know where I happened to have left my datapad and sketchbook? I require it for a blueprint design I need to jot down.''
Once again, glancing at the other 'gents' at the table with him, Vos noticed they both shifted slightly in their seats, stopping just in time before Tech entered.
''Where did you last leave them?'' Hunter asked, voice completely calm...almost complacent.
Given how they had shifted in their seats, Vos had the inkling Hunter knew exactly where they were...He was just passing time.
Heh, smooth, Hunter. Reeeal smooth.
''I thought I had left them by my bunk; however, neither of them are there now. Do you have any explanation?''
''You moved them in your sleep?'' Crosshair suggested, not looking up.
''That is a possibility. Yet I have never known myself to move in my sleep.''
He seemed completely oblivious to the three pointed raised eyebrows directed at him.
''But I will check again,'' he sighed, ''I know sometimes my first checks are not always as thorough as I would like them to be.''
''True enough.'' Hunter nodded. ''I'm sure they'll turn up.''
''Possibly. I'll check again,'' Tech called over his shoulder.
The moment he was out of view, Vos learned over and smirked at Hunter, '' 'I'm sure they'll turn up'?'' he repeated, eyebrows raised emphatically, ''Didn't you forget to include 'If I let them?' ''
Exchanging a silent conversation with Crosshair, Hunter turned back to the Jedi shook his head, sipping his caf casually.
''I don't know what you're talking about...''
Sniffing, Vos sat back in the booth.
Oh, I'm sure you do...
Dundundundaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. :) The end. Let me know what you thought of it (honestly, I thought it was fun to write, but then it dragged and got repetitive. :/ any help on that?) Just gonna say, even if the story dragged, I was so hyped in writing this :D :D :D The race scene description for me just completely...IDK. Awesome. :) Well, I hope you enjoyed the story :D
(if you want, you can just skip this part) Okay, since I don't have a youtube thing or other, I'mma just gonna put my top two observations and single favorite fan theory for the upcoming Bad Batch series down here:
(1) first one that I've noticed is that no one in the videos has been commenting on is the fact that when Hunter asks the kid if he wants to go with them and then Omega says 'how can I help', those are two different scenes...That is, unless Hunter is wearing Tech's armor magically when the camera turns...immediately after being in their blacks...; but how likely is that?
(2) the second thing I noticed (this is completely just fangirling stuff) when Hunter says 'you know who we are', the only guy that isn't smiling even slightly at the kid is Tech (yes, that means even Crosshair - anti-social and malignant as he is - is grinning somewhat at Omega)
(3) Third. I know there have been questions about why CH isn't in the second trailer all that much and have been wondering if he's the death trooper from the first trailer...but they're probably forgetting the scene also in the first trailer when Crosshair is fighting the clones in the mess hall? My theory: if (heavy on the 'if') Crosshair does become a Death trooper, it's not by choice. He gets captured while covering for the others while they escape and has the chip planted in him so he hunts down the others against his will either until he dies or he gets saved. (how does this make me feel better?)
Sop, anywhos that's my interpretation. Can't wait for the Bad Batch series. :D See ya later!