This was mainly an exercise to see whether I could write something since I have been struggling with writer's block for so long.

Star Wars © Lucasfilm

Hunter awoke to the scent of fear.

A rancid, overwhelming smell - like that of rotted meat - flooded the sergeant's nostrils, punching him in the stomach with a nauseating strength that jerked him out of whatever strange fog lingered at the corners of his awareness. Light flooded into his eyes as Hunter cracked open his eyes, the sting of light causing a hiss of pain to escape from Hunter as he jerked his head away from the source of light. His chest heaved at the assault of two of his enhanced senses, the reek of fear now as pungent as the stench that had wafted off the fetid swamps of Abraxin, though he could not pinpoint the source of such a debilitating scent.

His hearing was of no help, not even when Hunter attempted to focus his every sense into detecting his sensory overload fallback of the steady heartbeats of his three brothers, leaving Hunter nothing but for his sight to orient himself off of. Slowly, with the awareness of the light blazing practically feet from him, the sergeant opened his eyes until he could see past the blinding light - albeit not without sunspots dancing within his vision. Sunspots that seemed to preclude to the crackling of electricity from the spotlight, causing a sensation of electricity that crawled down Hunter's spine, leaving a trail of sweat, exhaustion and goosebumps along its path.

Every part of his body - of his enhanced senses - zeroed in on the spotlight and nestled into the buzz of thrumming, uncessing electrical currents. Electrical currents that roared a hydroelectric generator's whir within his ears, drowning Hunter into the vacuum of his overloaded senses. His eyes were greeted with dark, amorphous forms every time he chanced a look towards the spotlight that was throwing his body into an eventual sensory overload, the shifting of shadow a taunt he could not make hide nor hair of.

His hearing was shot, while all he could taste was his own blood and the putrid musk of fear. Nothing made sense, nor could he shut any part of his senses off. Not with the familiar press of his sensory dampening bandanna conspicuously absent of his person. There were no hands set against the small of his back, nor the ridge of his shoulders as his brothers were wont to do whenever Hunter needed a grounding touch.

He was alone.

More than he had been in years.

They don't want you-

They left you-

Failure-

Tears clawed at Hunter's eyes, begging to be released as everything crashed around him. His throat was dry but for his own blood, most likely from a split lip or bitten tongue, rendering his ability to speak inaccessible. He needed water. Air. Distance from any source of electronics. Something that would afford Hunter the chance to regain control of the ocean tide that were his senses.

The urge to cover his ears with his hands to muffle something had the sergeant twist his arms at his sides, only to be greeted with the cut of metal against his wrists and the clank of steel against stone. Confusion stabbed into Hunter, moments before he picked up on the hiss of voices, then felt the spotlight power off suddenly.

The engulfing feeling of electricity faded into a minute buzz, though its absence did nothing for the gradual pounding in his head. Any other time, Hunter would have recognized the signs of a sensory based migraine, but not this time.

Not when a shadow moved towards him from behind the powered down spotlight. The sergeant felt his body react on instinct alone as he straightened as much as his bound wrists would allow, eyes narrowing fractionally until what once was a shadow became the distinguishable form of a male Nautolan that paused in front of him.

"Hello, Sergeant," the Nautolan's growl carried acid within its husky tone, his eyes sharp flint as he peered down his nose at Hunter.

Hunter did not answer the Nautolan, deferring instead to match the Nautolan's gaze with a glare of his own. He had no recollection of where he was, or why he was currently captured and incapable of moving much more than his head, nor where his squad was located. If luck were on Hunter's side, his three brothers had escaped where he clearly had not.

A hope, Hunter soon realized, was yet another pointless desire.

"How are we this fine evening, clone? Alright, I would presume?" The Nautolan laughed, his smirk callous and without care as the Nautolan gestured over his shoulder with his left hand. We didn't expect for a rogue troop of clones to wander into our territory, yet here we are now. How rude of you to not announce yourselves upon arrival to our humble abode. I am truly disappointed."

Moments later, two Niktos emerged from the shadows, with Crosshair and Tech walking before them. Both of his brothers were being coerced forward by their captors, their shoulders and arms twisted backwards as the Niktos forced both clones to a stop beside the Nautolan. Hunter could smell the obvious scent of drugs wafting off his brothers, dulling the usual edges of their heartbeats into slowed reverberations that made Hunter's heart ache.

Hunter could do nothing but stare at his brothers, gaze darting between Crosshair, Tech and the Nautolan as he tried - and failed - to pull out of his bonds. The hasty attempt did not go unnoticed by the Nautolan, though no punishment was beset upon Hunter - yet.

Instead, the sergeant was given time to look over his two brothers - Wrecker wasn't there. Where was Wrecker? - in a vain attempt to assure himself they were okay.

Blood trickled from Crosshair's mouth where a bruise was forming across his jaw and right eye, though no amount of bruising could hide the hatred smoldering within the sniper's eyes. Tech, on the other hand, did not meet Hunter's eyes as his head hung limply in place, the absence of his goggles conspicuous even for his lowered head. Both of his brothers were before him, the reek of pain, frustration and anger all he could sense off of both men. Not a trace of fear tainted the air between them, even though fear continued to clog Hunter's senses stiflingly.

Fear that… was his own.

Not his brothers, but his.

He was afraid.

Hunter was afraid.

He could not afford to be afraid, yet he was. His brothers were being paraded in front of him, and he was afraid. They needed him, all while Hunter wavered in his fear and overloaded senses. He-

"You clones purport to be loyal to each other to a fault," the Nautolan's voice startled Hunter from his thoughts, drawing his gaze to the Nautolan fully as a snarl rippled from deep within his chest, "let us see how far that loyalty runs."

Before Hunter could react, the two Niktos shifted their hands to Crosshair and Tech's shoulders, then slammed both clones to their knees before Hunter. Pain - a white hot blinding sensation - snapped from Tech like a frayed suspension wire as he was slammed roughly to the ground, the unmistakable sound of shifting bone that of Hunter's brother's knee dislocating. A twist of pain flickered across Tech's face briefly before his usual neutral expression returned to take its place across his mouth. Hunter tried to sign to Tech with his bound hands, to attempt to reassure his little brother, though he could do little more than twitch his fingers weakly.

Tech did not respond to Hunter's attempt at galactic sign, not with his hands trapped by the Nikto towering over him, though a light furrowing of the pilot's brow gave Hunter indication that he had seen Hunter's attempt nonetheless. His furrowed brow deepened into a pensive state of calculation, with only the most subtle shift of Tech's goggleless eyes alerting Hunter to his brother's awareness of their surroundings.

But it was not the steadiness of his youngest brother that lingered over Hunter as pungently as his fear, but the hatred thundering off of Crosshair that finally tempered Hunter's fear. Hatred was as strong an emotion as fear, with its penchant for controlling the thoughts, actions and emotions of those willing enough to tread into the murky waters of hate. Crosshair's hate, ever the scepter of aloof indifference or irritated snappiness, did all of that and more as Hunter latched onto Crosshair's emotions, then engulfed himself into them completely.

Immediately, Hunter felt his throat tighten as he waded into Crosshair's storm, his already dry throat aching for any form of relief as the sergeant shot a glare towards the Nautolan, then spoke. His voice was hoarse and overcome with cracks, but clear enough his voice could carry to the Nautolan before him. "Let them go."

"Let them go?" The Nautolan repeated, the sneer clear in his voice even if Hunter had not seen the shift in the Nautolan's eyes. "We cannot simply allow any of you to go. You must first pay a tax, then we will happily allow you to return to your shuttle."

Hunter did not respond as the Nautolan walked towards him, stepping behind Hunter to straddle his crouched frame before a rough hand wrapped around the nape of his neck. The pressure of the Nautolan's hand bore down upon Hunter's neck, caving his weight onto his knees before the Nautolan lowered his voice into a cold snarl. "For trespassing, you will pay in blood," the Nautolan's hand bore down further upon Hunter's neck, before loosening his hold enough that Hunter could look at his two brothers, "the blood of one of your own. Choose which one shall die in return for safe passage off our planet."

Shock coursed through Hunter as the Nautolan's words hit him, freezing Hunter in place for a moment before he bucked against the Nautolan's hold desperately. Metal chafed against his wrists as Hunter drove all of his weight into the cuffs around his wrists, fighting the restraints as much as he tried to fight the Nautolan. A harsh laugh preceded the Nautolan's free hand wrestling a stranglehold on Hunter's throat before, with an angry hiss, the Nautolan slammed Hunter to the ground. His shoulders strained as the Nautolan pressed down on his neck, forcing Hunter's face sideways into the cold, dirt covered floor so that he could only look at the Nautolan with his left eye.

"I said choose."

"No," Hunter snarled, the retort filling his mouth with dirt, but his message was clear to Hunter's enemy.

Coldness washed over Hunter as the Nautolan stared down at him, gray eyes flecked with boredom. "I have given you a simple choice, Sergeant. Choose one of your squad to die, so that the remainder of your squad may live."

Hunter narrowed his eyes as he met the cold stare of the Nautolan, his retort moments from slipping from his mouth when he felt an all too familiar glare lock onto him. Crosshair's anger had morphed into a desperation Hunter knew well. It was the cold acceptance - the want - to give himself up for his family. Hunter snapped his gaze to Crosshair as best he could, a silent message shared between Hunter and his unofficial second in command that made Crosshair frown.

A silent war passed between Hunter and Crosshair, their wills clashing in a debate neither wished to lose. Hunter could never choose one of his own men in some twisted game of sacrifice, yet all Crosshair wanted was for Hunter to choose the sniper. As if Crosshair did not understand what he was asking of Hunter. As if the sniper was fool enough to believe Hunter could ever choose one of his own. As if he believed Hunter was capable of sacrificing one of his own to save the others, as if-

"He is being self-sacrificing, Hunter."

Tech's voice startled Hunter from his spiraling thoughts, the calm lilt of his Coruscanti accent failing to ease the crackling of fear gnawing its nest into Hunter's marrow all over again. The calloused hand that had wrapped around the nape of his neck loosened, affording him the chance to breath as Hunter pushed himself up off the floor as best he could. Hunter snapped his gaze between Crosshair and Tech alike, aware of the determination between both of his brothers - but it was only Tech who Hunter knew had an unflinching understanding of what they were faced with.

Of what was being asked of Hunter.

This couldn't-

"This is the behavior we are trying to deter from him. Pick me, instead. I am aware of what I am asking you to do. Crosshair is not." Tech's mouth twisted into the faintest of smiles, albeit one without humor or happiness as he looked Hunter directly in the eye.

Please, Tech was saying, I understand.

I do.

No.

Tech's expression darkened.

A third heartbeat reverberated through Hunter's senses, a heavy, fierce heartbeat that snapped Hunter's head up, his fear dissipating as he sent the Nautolan a sneering glare. "I choose myself."

Silence met Hunter's words, though his brothers were anything but silent as they fought the Niktos still holding them captive. The butt of a blaster cracked against Hunter's jaw, splintering white hot pain through Hunter's face as three heartbeats collided into one deafen cacophony that was silenced by the Nautolan's snarl.

"Kill them both."

Thundering footsteps raced towards their location as Hunter thrashed wildly in his binds, teeth gnashing together as the Niktos holding his brothers pressed the muzzle of their blasters to the back of Crosshair and Tech's head. A laugh radiated above Hunter from the Nautolan as the sergeant tried - and failed - to do something for his brothers, the laugh the final nail in Hunter's guard against a sensory overload.

Everything struck the sergeant at once, every sense heightened to where he could hear the magnetic sink of the Niktos' blasters, could feel Crosshair's horror and Tech's worry, could smell rage as hot as magma-

And then the air was rent with the sound of blaster fire, and all was quiet.