Chapter 1 - They Be My Rescue, My Lifeline
Plot: To keep Crosshair under control once his chip starts failing, the Empire decides to use him in a risky Dark Side experiment in a bid to find new ways to enforce loyalty: by making him a vampire. Crosshair's first mission is to find Clone Force 99 and turn them. But when have the Bad Batch ever let things go according to plan?
Author's Note: Haha I got a few things to say about this fic. First of all, I regret absolutely nothing about this. I got this prompt on my Bad Batch bingo card, and then, this prompt popped into my head and I went wild. I wrote all 17.5ish k of this fic in three days, and I set a new record by writing a little over 9k in one day. So yeah, I'm pretty proud of myself AND this fic. :)
Vampires. Vampires are amazing, especially in non-romantic settings.
Also, I have developed a new love for non-consensual biting. :D
WARNING: Uh... non-consensual biting and blood. Drinking blood. Vampires, yeah? :)
PS. Oooh yeah. There are five chapters, and I'll be posting weekly on Tuesday! ^-^
Final Note: When I wrote this, I was rather obsessively listening to the song Family. There's a Bad Batch tribute on YT by A.J. with that song and it's amaaaazing! 3 All their tributes are amazing, actually. :D
~ Amina Gila
Hunter's body aches all over, but he doesn't let it show. He's had worse, and he can deal with this, too. He's more worried about what the Empire plans to do with him, for he has no doubt that they'll use him to try and get to the rest of his squad. And he won't let that happen. He won't let his fear show, either, because he knows who the Empire will send after him, them.
Crosshair.
And Hunter is not at all ready to see his youngest brother again, no matter how much he misses him. Crosshair is on the other side, and... Hunter can try to get through to him, but he doesn't know how much it'll even matter when his chip is active. He can try, at least.
"I figured you'd show up," he states flatly when Crosshair finally steps into view – Hunter has been tracking his familiar heartbeat for nearly a minute by now.
Crosshair stops, deactivating the ray shield and pulling off his helmet. His eyes are cold and distant, as they have been ever since Order 66 came through. And yet... And yet, there is something distinctly different about him. Hunter can't quite tell what, but it puts him on edge. There's... something darker about him, almost, and his scent is faintly tinged with a metallic edge that reminds Hunter of blood but isn't quite the same.
"I was hoping for the whole squad, but you'll do," Crosshair replies.
Oh. Delightful.
Does that mean torture? Hunter can handle torture. He was trained for it. What he can't handle is seeing his brother's cool, impassive gaze on him as he endures it. And yet... He'll endure it. Anything for Omega. Anything for the rest of his squad. It's his responsibility to keep them safe, so that's what he'll do, no matter the cost to himself.
He doesn't say anything as Crosshair and his new squad of troopers load him onto a transport. He settles on the floor, slightly curled in on himself, trepidation weighing heavily on him. Where are they going? What are they planning?
Hunter has no idea, and it scares him more than he wants to admit. It scares him, because he doesn't want to think of the things that Crosshair could do to him. He forces himself to make his face as blank as possible when he senses Crosshair returning to the main hold. "Where are we going?" he asks, though he doubts he'll get an answer.
Crosshair approaches him, crouching down and picking up his comm, thumbing it on. "You'll find out soon enough," he answers, rising. "And so will your squad." Your squad. Not our squad. It stings more than Hunter thought it might.
They're your brothers too, he wants to say, but doesn't, because he doesn't want to be that vulnerable in front of the other troopers. "They'll know it's a trap," he points out, trying to coax more information out of Crosshair.
He turns to go, pausing only once to glance back. "They'll still come for you," he answers, leaving the hold and letting the door close behind him.
And that's what Hunter fears the most, because with him gone, the rest of the Batch is leaderless, and he knows their loyalty. We don't leave our own behind, he'd told Omega once, a long time ago, speaking about Crosshair and his guilt for leaving him. They'd left Crosshair though, and that's something that weighs heavily on Hunter, even now. It wasn't worth the risk of major injury or death to get him back when they knew the Empire had a reason to keep him alive. That doesn't mean the guilt is any easier to face.
Crosshair comes back a few minutes later and gestures to the two troopers. They leave, though they obviously are hesitating to do so, and instantly, Hunter is on edge. "What?" he says warily. "What do you want?"
"Try not to fight," Crosshair replies, as if that's somehow a reassurance, "And it won't hurt so much." ... Is he planning to torture him? Now?
He presses back against the wall as Crosshair crouches down in front of him, nearly flinching when he puts a hand on his shoulder. His eyes are calm, assessing, as he studies him, and it's unnerving. His fingers trail up Hunter's left pauldron to his neck, lightly touching the neckline of his body glove, tugging it down slightly.
"What are you doing?" he demands, more confused than anything as he pulls away from Crosshair's hand.
"Hm," his brother supplies in lieu of an answer, just watching him, and then, "Hunter," he says, meeting Hunter's eyes, something strangely soothing, almost compelling, in his voice, "Don't fight me."
... What?
His body suddenly feels strangely calm, the tension from earlier dissipating entirely. He should be terrified. He should be asking what Crosshair is doing to him, because he must be doing something – this calm isn't rational or possible or – or –
But even though he knows he should be panicking, he just... isn't. And that doesn't terrify him either, even though, by all right, it should.
Crosshair reaches out again, tugging down the neckline of his body glove, and Hunter lets him, because – because –
(Why? Why is he letting Crosshair do this, whatever this is?)
And then, Crosshair leans closer, close enough that Hunter can feel the heat of his body. His youngest brother stares at him a second longer, something almost apologetic in his eyes before he ducks his head to Hunter's neck.
He stiffens instinctively, but the don't fight me is still ringing in his mind, and this is Crosshair, but what is he doing?
A shiver prickles through him when he feels Crosshair's breath on his skin, and Crosshair brings up his other hand, tangling his fingers in Hunter's hair and pulling his head back. And then, just when Hunter is about to genuinely panic – (why isn't he already panicking what is happening to him) – he feels a sharp, stinging pain in his neck that blossoms to an even deeper, burning ache, and he gasps at the pain, jerking away from Crosshair.
Did... did he just bite him?!
Crosshair looks up, licking blood off his lips, something dark and unnatural in his eyes as he meets Hunter's shocked gaze.
"Did you bite me?" he splutters, as the sting morphs into a fierce burn, something hot and dark and wrong crawling into his blood and pumping through his veins, stinging him from the inside out. "What – what did you do to me?!"
"Yes, I bit you," Crosshair drawls, but the teasing mocking of his tone isn't reflected in his eyes. His eyes are dark and intent, and there's no amusement in them. "Get over it. You bit all the time when you were younger."
Hunter glares, bringing up his cuffed hands to gingerly touch his neck, wincing when his fingers come away sticky with blood. Crosshair's eyes flicker to his hands, and heat – and hunger? – flares in them before he flicks his eyes upward. "We're not cadets anymore," Hunter snaps back, blinking as a sudden dizziness overwhelms him. When he opens his eyes again after it passes, Crosshair is pulling out a tube of bacta.
Okay...? Did he come in the hold with the sole intent of biting Hunter? Is he two?
"Hold still," Crosshair tells him, moving forward again as he opens the tube.
Hunter would have pushed him away – he definitely wants to and was about to – when a wave of weakness washes over him. Which is not normal. He's been injured before, sometimes worse than others, and this is a weakness that feels similar to blood loss, which doesn't make sense since even though he can feel the warm blood trickling down his neck, it's not that bad. "What did – what did you do to me?" he asks, tries to demand, but it comes out much more shakily than he'd thought.
Crosshair doesn't answer right away, something flickering through his eyes, too fast for Hunter to read it. "You'll be fine, Hunter." It sounds more like a plea than an actual assurance, which does little to settle Hunter's nerves, but he doesn't have long to think about it, as the weakness and burning agony sweep him under.
He's mostly unconscious, only mostly, because he can still hear Crosshair's steady, slow heartbeat, can still smell the scent of him, can feel his touch, light, gentle, and firm as he cleans the wound on his neck – wait, is he licking it? – and smears bacta over it.
When Hunter comes back to himself fully, he's slumped back against the wall of the shuttle, and Crosshair is sitting pressed up against his side, watching him carefully, one hand lightly, idly stroking his hair. "They said touch helps," his youngest brother says, almost defensively.
"... What?" he manages, because he has never been this confused before. He's still burning on the inside, and he feels different in a way he can't place. In a way, it's as if his senses are slowly sharpening even more than they usually are, and he feels – he feels a strange, increasing pull to Crosshair that he's never felt before. Devotion. Though he hesitates to label it that, he doesn't know of any other word that fits better.
An emotion flits across Crosshair's face, and he sits up straighter, hand dropping away from Hunter. Instantly, he feels the loss of it, and he hates his body's instinctive reaction to press a little closer to him. It's insane. Yes, they're physically affectionate with each other all the time, but not so excessively. And yes, Hunter has missed Crosshair so fiercely that it hurts to even think about him at times, but again, not like this. He wouldn't normally ignore caution and reasoning so much.
"What you're experiencing right now is because of the transformation," Crosshair tells him, as if that's supposed to mean something to him. "It's not permanent. Not all of it."
"Transformation," Hunter echoes slowly, really not liking this.
"This is hardly the first time we have been subject to experiments or enhancements," comes the reply, "Although this one is... a little more unique than most."
"Crosshair, what did you do to me?" There's far more desperation in the words than Hunter wants, but he can't control it or hide it, fear chilling him to the core.
Crosshair turns his head away. "I... I'm a vampire now," he answers, clipped, but Hunter knows him well enough to pick up on the faint thread of unhappiness in his voice. "I turned you, too."
"Why? And since when are vampires real?" The second thing is what he's most confused about, because he's heard some of the legends and myths from Tech, but he – they're not a real thing. They're supposed to exist solely in fantasy. So, what...?
"Since always," Crosshair answers matter-of-factly. "You committed treason, Hunter. I'm sure you know the punishment for that. This was an alternative."
"... How? I'm not going to join the Empire," he argues. "I've seen what it does, and I'm not going along with that."
The look on Crosshair's face is almost a smile, but not quite, because it's too bitter. "You don't have a choice," he answers flatly. "I'm your sire. Because of the bond between us, your loyalty is guaranteed."
Oh kriff. No. Nonono. This cannot be happening.
If Hunter hadn't been in denial, he might have realized the last part, because the creeping sense of devotion is only growing, and he hates it. He hates it, because it's not really real, is it? He's always been devoted to his brothers, devoted to protecting them over everything else. And then Order 66 happened, and they lost Crosshair. If they could get out and take Crosshair with them, if he chooses to stay with them after everything that happened – he would, right? Because they stick together, and once his chip is out, he'll understand; he wouldn't have wanted them to die for him, after all – Hunter wouldn't be so afraid of this... bond, because he cares for Crosshair. Always will. It won't be a risk to be devoted to him when he's on their side.
But now?
Now, Hunter is more of a liability to his squad than anything else.
He shifts away from Crosshair, breathing out shakily as he tries to put distance between them. He'll have to deal with that later, but it's hard to think when a burning ache is crawling through his body, changing him, and when Crosshair is here, so close, and when his senses are picking up the nearby heartbeats, and some deep, rising, feral instinct is telling him to – to –
Kriff. He's screwed.
"How much worse will this get?" he asks, wary of what the answer might be.
"Worse," Crosshair answers, a non-answer, as he casts Hunter a lingering look. "Do you need me to restrain you, yet, or are you fine for the rest of the trip?"
"I don't even know where we're going!"
Crosshair shrugs his shoulders with a hum, standing. "Let me know if you need restraints," is all he says before he leaves the hold. And leaves Hunter alone. The troopers don't come back with he's grateful for, because there's a rising, building need for – for –
It makes him sick to think about, to know what he's becoming, and yet, Crosshair is this very same thing. How does he handle it?
Unbidden, other thoughts rise, and something twists inside of him when he wonders if Crosshair was scared when he went through it, if he even understood what was happening to him until it was all over, if he had anyone to help him. This is... a mess, and Hunter can't help but feel that he failed Crosshair terribly. This – being a... vampire isn't – it's not something Crosshair would have ever accepted willingly, and it was forced on him. This isn't his fault, not what he is, not what he did to Hunter.
There's no going back, though, only forwards, and Hunter has no idea what any of this will mean for them. Any of them.
Crosshair doesn't come back until they reach their destination.
Kamino.
Wonderful.
The exact place Hunter hoped never to see again. The place he promised Omega she would never return to. The place where everything fell apart. The place where he knows everything will come crashing down all over again. He doesn't need his enhanced senses to feel that instinct deep in his gut, a certainty that everything is about to change again. Forever. Beyond whatever changes his body is going through, that is.
Crosshair leads them off the shuttle, and the two troopers behind Hunter are none too gentle about shoving him around with their blasters. It takes all of his willpower not to prowl closer to them, their heartbeats too clear, the promise of blood too enticing. But he doesn't want to be this, so he resists, gritting his teeth and moving forward.
Rampart is there to greet them in the hangar. "Where are the rest of them?" he queries, looking at Crosshair.
"They'll be here," he assures with a chilling certainty that makes Hunter sick. "We'll intercept upon arrival."
After Rampart says a few words to Hunter – which he totally ignores – he's led at blaster point through the facility. As he walks, he can't help but notice how empty the place is. Sure, he might not want to be back here, but he grew up here. He knows what the place feels like, and now, it feels empty. He's not picking up any of the signs of life that he usually does.
"Where are all the regs?" he queries finally, to distract himself from the fact that Crosshair is shoving a blaster into his back to keep him moving and from the fact that he is becoming something... other.
"When did you start caring about them?" Crosshair sneers, and Hunter ignores the comment, trying to understand what is happening here with the limited information that he has.
"No Kaminoans either. This facility's being decommissioned," he realizes. "You don't seem too concerned." Which is weird, because he would have thought that Crosshair, of all people, would be at least a little more afraid of being eliminated. All of them have been all their lives. It was why they always worked so hard to be the best, because if they were good enough, they wouldn't have to worry about being separated again or decommissioned since they were just lab experiments.
And they are lab experiments now. They're vampires. All they are to the Empire is an experiment, a test to see if they can force loyalty on unwilling people who don't have inhibitor chips.
"Why would I be?" Crosshair asks, as though Hunter is being stupid.
"Because the Empire will be phasing out clones next," he points out sharply, turning around to look at him.
"Not the ones that matter," his brother answers, shoving the tip of the blaster against his chest plate, pushing him back a few steps.
... Is he alright? This isn't like him. He isn't like himself, at all. Is the chip's influence really so strong over him? Hunter doesn't really know what it's like, since he only saw it happen to Wrecker for a short time, and Wrecker hardly spoke at all – not that it would have mattered, since Wrecker never reasons things much. He doesn't know what's happening with Crosshair, and it scares him as much as it worries him.
He's angry, too, angry that Crosshair could be so cavalier about all of this, about his own fate. But there's nothing he can do, so he turns around and keeps walking before Crosshair or the other trooper get violent with him.
Crosshair takes him to a holding cell, and sure, it's not the one that he was in before, but it still reminds him of it enough that he stills for a moment, but Crosshair prods him forward. "It's for your own safety," his brother says, activating the ray shield, as Hunter steps through. "You won't be able to control yourself just yet."
He swallows, throat dry, a craving rising up that he won't be able to ignore for much longer. "How long?" he asks, almost whispers.
"The full transformation takes a full rotation," Crosshair tells him. "I'll be back to check on you."
Hunter hears Crosshair's comm beep, and he lifts a hand to answer it. He can only hear the words because of his enhanced hearing... that seems to be becoming even sharper. Already, he can feel the first throbs of an overstimulation migraine starting up. Even better. "A ship was detected entering the system, but we lost them below scanner range," reports the voice.
"It's them," Crosshair replies, and Hunter stiffens.
No. Nonono. He needs to warn them. They need to leave. He's not safe. None of them will be safe until they can find a way to get rid of Crosshair's chip or until he can find a way to overrule it himself. He has to cling to that, because he can't accept that Crosshair could ever do any of this of his own. He's too... different, too cold and detached from how he always was, and the glaring differences, the gentle way he treated Hunter's bitemark, for example, hint at the person he used to be. It gives Hunter hope that Crosshair might be trying to fight the chip of his own, but not enough hope to think that the rest of the squad won't also be hurt.
And Omega. He can't let anything happen to Omega.
"I'll notify the scouts," replies the person on the other end.
"Don't bother," Crosshair says dismissively. "They'll come to us. They don't leave their own behind. Most of the time."
Despite himself, Hunter bristles at that. "You tried to kill us," he exclaims incredulously. "We didn't have a choice." Arguing with Crosshair when he's not in control of himself is probably stupid, but Hunter can't help it. He'll do anything if he can get through to him, the real him.
"Hm." Crosshair pulls off his helmet, tucking it under his arm and putting a toothpick in his mouth, completely unimpressed. "And I did?"
The words hit him like a gut punch, and he doesn't know how to argue it, or if he even should. It would be a nice distraction, to be sure, but unless he's in full control of himself, it'll be a pointless endeavor. Probably.
Before he has a chance to think about it for too long, Crosshair pulls his helmet back on and walks out of the room, leaving one trooper behind to watch him.
And then, Hunter waits.
And waits.
The itch starts slowly, growing in proportion the longer he waits. At first, he shifts around, trying to dispel it, but then, it gets increasingly stronger, and he starts pacing around to ignore it. The heartbeat on the other side of the ray shield only gets even more enticing through, instincts screaming at him to get to it, to bite, to feed. He hates it, but even that hatred begins to dissolve under the fierce, unyielding hunger.
Hunter has no idea how long it is before his control slips, his rationality fleeing, his only thought being foodfoodfood, no matter that the food in question is human blood, and he starts pacing the length of his cell, trying to find a weak point, a way to get out, to get to the trooper on the other side, to feed.
Searching the cell and clawing at the durasteel panels does nothing, so he lunges at the ray shield, trying to get through it. The shock sends him to the floor, and he lays there, body spasming for a few moments, panting.
And then, he gets up and tries again, because that's what they do.
It could be minutes or hours before the door flies open, and a volley of blaster bolts takes down the trooper. Hunter pushes himself upright from the aftermath of his latest escape attempt, groaning weakly, a growl emerging from his throat. The body on the floor is dying, and no longer appealing to him, but the person coming in...
Wrecker.
Even in the haze of instincts, Hunter still recognizes him, still recognizes his brother as someone to protect. He couldn't stop them from coming here, but he can – he can try to protect them from Crosshair, from what their youngest is going to do.
And there's the hunger that demands to be fed, too.
"You don't look so good, Sarge," Wrecker says, worried, as he hits the lever to deactivate the ray shield.
Hunter pushes himself to his feet, wavering, body aching from the transformation and from hunger and from the repeated shocks from the ray shield. Food, whispers an instinct in the back of his mind. He needs to feed to regain his strength. And he's free now.
Wrecker moves towards him, and Hunter can hear his heartbeat, strong and enticing. He lifts his head, fixating solely on his brother's neck as he pounces. Wrecker yelps in shock as Hunter's body slams into him, catching him off guard, sending him stumbling backward, but Hunter doesn't let go, pushing up Wrecker's helmet and clawing at the neckline of his body glove. He sinks his fangs into his brother's neck, feeling the blood well up, ignoring Wrecker's yelp of pain and shock as he feeds.
A second later, Wrecker is shoving him away, nearly knocking him off his feet. He snarls, licking the blood off his lips, ready to tackle Wrecker to the floor if he has to, but then, he meets his brother's eyes, wide and worried, and something calms inside of him, no matter how hungry he still is. "Hey, you okay?" Wrecker asks, not even commenting about the bite. Hunter's eyes flicker to it, and he watches the blood trickle down his brother's neck. He can smell it too, warm and appealing, and he licks his lips.
"I – uh... yeah," he rasps out, shaking himself. They need to get out of here.
The blood he already ingested is refueling him, filling him with strength, giving him the energy and clarity that he needs to keep moving. Wrecker rubs at his neck, pulling his helmet back down and resettling his body glove, but then, he clearly decides to ignore the whole thing as they set off through the facility. "They're in the training room," Wrecker tells him. "Crosshair is there, too, and Omega is waiting."
"We need to go there," Hunter says, though he's afraid he'll regret it. He couldn't stop himself from jumping Wrecker, and the scent of his blood is driving him crazy. When the blood he fed on wears off, which will probably be soon, he doesn't want to know what lengths he might go to next or who he might hurt just to feed again. Wrecker will be fine – probably – but... no one is safe right now. He's probably the biggest threat of all.
Final Notes: If you want to join our Discord to receive updates or just hang out, here's the invite link, and please delete the spaces! :) discord . gg / nqSxuz2
You can find us on tumblr at fanfictasia (which is our more serious blog which does have controversial posts on it; I won't be offended if you choose to block it, promise), and disastertriowriting (which is our fun blog with crack posts or incorrect SW quotes; we also advertise our SW gift exchanges on there)
And! We have a YT channel for tributes! Please delete the spaces in the link. :D youtube channel / UC_g1M5rSCxJUzQCRS29B6pA
Finally, if you're interested, you can submit a SW gift fic request via the following form (delete the spaces): forms . gle / rmXWtRomMMaULuPa6
NEW: We've just opened a SW Anakin-clones fic request form as well. :) (delete the spaces): forms . gle / SC5gBdwhXpTNJidr7