Summary: "Crosshair begins to move his way through the masses, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the civilians for that of whom they had chasen in here. 'Don't get lost.'" Tech's goggles are more frustrating than they are helpful, sometimes. One-shot.
A/N: Suggested by Pokkit on AO3. Also, go check out a drawing of Rex from Subjects Of Sorrow over on my DeviantArt account- StarWars1319.
Seeking Out The Quarry
The snow falls quickly, the wind violently blowing it into the faces of Clone Force 99 as the squad treks down the snow-covered road. The lights in the windows of the buildings are inviting, tempting, but they cannot deviate from their mission. They're so close- so close, in fact, that the heat signatures that their target left behind veer to the left into what appears to be a bar. The sounds of music, laughter, and shouters of various tones reach their ears through the thin front door of the building.
"Thermal signatures report that he ran into this bar." Tech informs the others, dusting snow from his datapad with a frown at the inconvenience.
"You mean, we actually get to go inside?" Wrecker is almost overjoyed. "Finally! It's cold out here!"
"Calm down. You're overreacting- it's not that bad." Crosshair verbally rolls his eyes, though Tech smiles to himself when the sharpshooter's arms pull tighter to his body under a particularly rough gust of wind.
"Let's head inside, see what we can find." Hunter decides, stepping up to the pub's door. With a sharp glance at Wrecker, he adds,"Remember to stay focussed."
"Aww, you mean we can't get a couple of drinks as well?" The lovable demolitions enthusiast pouts.
"Maybe after." Tech gives his arm a gentle pat as he passes him to enter the bar.
Crosshair scoffs at him. "Don't give him hope."
When Tech enters the bar, he's not sure if he reels back from the stench of its drunk inhabitants, the noise, or the vapor that surprises him by fogging up his goggles under the blast of warmer air. Either way, none of it is helpful, that's for sure.
He removes his helmet and pulls his goggles up, knowing from experience that it'll be no use wiping at it; it'll just form again. Blinking at the unsteady blurs that make up the inside of the bar, he grasps onto Crosshair's arm so he has something familiar alongside him. The sharpshooter glances at him, but knows better than to complain about it.
"Wrecker, with me." Hunter orders, and Tech thinks he sees them vanish into the crowd to begin their search for the target.
Crosshair begins to move his way through the masses, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the civilians for that of whom they had chasen in here. "Don't get lost." He tells Tech.
He'd complain if he didn't somehow get lost on the ship without his goggles sometimes. "I will not."
He sees the blur of Crosshair's head bob in the slightest of nods.
It's Tech who eventually spots their target, once his goggles have cleared and he can wear them once again. He thinks Crosshair takes offense to his own keen eyes not being the ones to locate the target.
He'll get over it.