Chapter 2 - I'll Walk Through Hell With You

Author's Note: Everything goes badly. :')

~ Amina Gila

They don't linger in their barracks long, parting ways to get supplies for their mission, as well as whatever else they might need – or want – and when Hunter is heading to the hangar, to meet up with the rest of his squad, he feels Omega approaching. He exhales a resigned breath, turning towards her before she even calls his name. "You should keep your distance, kid," he says tiredly. It's not safe for her to be around him, especially not now that Tarkin knows he's Force sensitive. If they find out that she is, too… it could be bad. He doesn't trust that Tarkin is actually going to use his skillset as opposed to trying to lock him in a lab.

"I know, but I need to talk to you," she insists, and he comes closer, crouching so they're closer to the same level. She tells him about Tarkin, tells him that Tarkin doesn't like the clones, and that he has it out for them, all things that he already knew. "He asked Nala Se if she knew how to make more," she adds, voice wavering, "More… Force-sensitive clones."

Dread coils in Hunter's gut, the knowing that it will be him, Omega, or both, who end up as experiments in the pursuit of whatever the Empire wants. "It's just another mission," he tells her, because she's a kid, and he has to reassure her, even if he's afraid. "You don't need to worry."

"Then let me come with you," she almost begs.

"Kid, you're not a soldier," he replies, shaking his head. "It's dangerous."

"It's dangerous here too!" Omega protests, a little frantic. "Things aren't like before. We need to leave Kamino."

The Force twinges again, and Hunter wavers, but… no. He can't pull his squad into the crossfire like that. If they take her and run, what then? Tarkin will be after them in a heartbeat. He'll chase them. Hunter is too valuable of an asset for him to let him go. They're stuck.

Wrecker calls him from the Marauder, and Hunter sends a flick of acknowledgement to him through their bond.

"Change takes getting used to," he tries to reassure her. "You'll see. Just give it time." He wishes he could believe his own words, and as he goes to join his squad, he can't help but feel that he made a mistake.

"Problem?" Crosshair queries, sidling up next to him when he pauses to look back at the young girl who is watching them, her anxiety and nervousness echoing into the Force.

"Too many," he answers, subdued. "She can sense something, too, and Tarkin… he was talking to Nala Se, apparently, about making more Force sensitive clones." He doesn't say it, but the implication is obvious; he might be taken from them to be studied… and they may never see him again, if it happens.

Crosshair's expression tightens, and he turns towards the Marauder. Hunter watches him board the ship, the worry inside of him only growing. He felt the vague, changing flicker of his brother's emotions, and once, he'd be curling around Hunter, whispering promises to kill Tarkin if he tries to hurt any of them. He'd be clingy. But now, he just… walked away, and it – it hurts as much as it worries Hunter, because something is wrong with Crosshair.

He waits to address it until after they've entered hyperspace, because then, there will be no places for Crosshair to escape to, and they have hours of waiting ahead of them. "Crosshair, a word?" he queries, and he sees the way Crosshair's expression settles into stony defiance, but he still follows him into the main hold. This… is going to be a difficult conversation, he knows; he can read Crosshair well, even before he got the Force, and what he's seeing now doesn't bode too well.

"Something's been bothering you," he says, because it seems like a reasonable beginning. Jumping right into it seems best. It's blunt, straight-forward in the way Crosshair usually likes. "Would you like to tell me what's going on?"

Strangely, or maybe not, that only makes him tense, his posture becoming even more rigid than it was before. "How perceptive," he sneers, and it's been a long time since Hunter has dealt with Crosshair when he's like this, before their transformations even. "Did your Jedi osik tell you that?" There's scorn there, mockery, and Hunter frowns, uncertain where it could even be coming from, even as he wracks his mind, trying to remember anything that could have set him off like this.

Tech said it was programming, and well, they all got pretty much the same training, right? Even if it's been less effective on them than Crosshair, Hunter should still be able to talk to him, to get him to open up about his thoughts, and then, they can figure out how to move forward from there. It makes sense, but he's… not sure it'll be that simple.

"I don't need my abilities to tell me something is bothering you, Crosshair," he answers, shaking his head. "We grew up together. I know you."

The faint hitch in his brother's breathing is only audible to him because of his enhanced hearing, and he doesn't know what to make of it. "Good for you," he deadpans, pointedly putting a toothpick in his mouth and chewing on it.

Hunter wavers, a little uncertain, before moving closer. "We – we have time if… you want to feed. Or if you want me to."

Crosshair's flinch is so small that Hunter would never have noticed it if not for his enhanced sight as a result of his vampirism. His expression, however, remains eerily blank, and even on the other side of their bond, his emotions hardly change, only the slightest flicker of something like apprehension surfacing before it's gone. And that, more than anything, isn't right. Crosshair might be good at hiding his emotions, but he feels them deeply, and it's – it's not normal at all for him to be so… empty. That's just not who he is.

"No," comes the reply, as Hunter knew it would. Crosshair retreats to his rack, then, sprawling on it and staring up at the ceiling, as if Hunter doesn't exist anymore.

Well.

That went well.

Not.

He needs to do something, but he doesn't know what. The helplessness of the situation is almost enough to make him want to scream. Or cry. He's tempted to go find one of the others, to feed, if only to soothe away the emotions that are choking him, but he's not going to just leave Crosshair like this, so instead, he settles on his own rack, lying back and staring upwards, using the meditative techniques that Anakin taught him to try and settle his thoughts. It helps marginally, and before he knows it, they've arrived on Onderon.

The mission… does not go well.

The "insurgents" that they were sent to deal with are not, in fact, Separatist droids, but people. Civilians. There are elderly people there, and children, and Hunter is only now realizing that they've walked into a trap. If they go back to Kamino without completing the mission, Tarkin could accuse him of – of being too Jedi or something, leading to his execution.

And Crosshair, for some unfathomable reason, is firmly maintaining that they need to finish the mission. "If you don't have the stomach to do what needs to be done, then you're not fit to lead this squad," he argues, and Hunter can feel the heat of his glare, even though the helmet. "That probe droid –" He jabs a finger in its direction, "– Was spying on us, Hunter. Tarkin doesn't trust you, and you just proved to him why he shouldn't. You know what that could mean."

Hunter might not be a Jedi, but there are some lines he won't cross.

He's not going to kill civilians, no matter what that will mean for him personally. It's wrong, and even if Crosshair does have a point, he's… he's willing to face whatever the consequences will be. Maybe they'll need to run from the Empire. Sure, it might not be easy, but they can still do it if it's necessary. They're vampires. They'll be fine. The Empire won't be able to kill them easily.

"Omega knew something would go wrong," Hunter admits finally, staring down at the droid. "She warned me about the mission and about Tarkin. She said not to return to Kamino, that it's not safe for us anymore." He doesn't know what to do. She might only be a child, but she's not stupid. She knows things, can sense things.

"Maybe she's right," Wrecker voices uncertainly, looking between them. "Tarkin's not gonna be happy with us."

"She's only a child," Crosshair says dismissively.

"But she is a Force sensitive one," Tech argues, "And she is a clone, too. She would have no reason to lie to us."

"She – what?" splutters Hunter, alarm flaring.

"A clone?" The frown in Echo's voice is obvious. "Are you certain?"

"I am," Tech assures immediately, "I analyzed her DNA in the infirmary."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?!" Hunter demands. She's a clone. A clone. Like them. She's… their sister. And she's Force sensitive. They can't just leave her behind. Not only would that be wrong, but it would also mean she'll undoubtedly be subject to the experiments that the Kaminoans would otherwise have performed on him. She's their sister, and if they don't go back for her, no one will. She'll be lost. She could die, be turned into a lab rat, and Hunter can't let that happen, either. It would be wrong.

"I thought it was obvious," comes the reply. Typical. Only Tech. He's brilliant, but he sometimes neglects to consider that the rest of them won't reach the same "obvious" conclusions that he has. It's caused problems before, which is why Hunter is their leader; he knows how to direct them to use their skills to their fullest.

"How?" queries Wrecker, shoving up his helmet to give Tech an incredulous look.

"We gotta go back for her," Hunter interjects before Tech can reply to Wrecker, which will undoubtedly spiral into an argument. "She's one of us. We can't leave her there, not when we know what'll happen to her."

"That's a risk, Hunter, even for us," Crosshair says quietly, almost darkly. "Tarkin knows what you're capable of. He won't hesitate to… neutralize you."

Hunter clenches his jaw, shaking his head. "We're vampires," he replies. "We can use our abilities. We need to get her, get out, and disappear. Tarkin will never be able to find us, to know what's… different about us. We can't abandon her when she needs us."

"He's got a point," agrees Wrecker, giving Crosshair a look.

The Force coils around Crosshair, sharp and cutting, but Hunter can't quite parse out the emotions, doesn't know that he even wants to. Crosshair is hiding something; he can feel it. And he's afraid to know what it might be. Does he know something? Why is he being so… distant and dark? Is it just his programming? Or is there something else going on? Hunter is starting to suspect the latter, and he hates himself for it, because this is Crosshair, his brother. They've always been close, and he can't imagine what could make Crosshair so reclusive so suddenly.

Just days ago, when they were on the way to Kaller, all of them had been cuddled together in the bunk room of the Marauder, and now, everything is… different. Hunter doesn't really like it.

Despite Crosshair's vocal reservations, the rest of them are in agreement that going back for Omega is the right thing to do, and so, they go. He knows it won't be easy, knows that Tarkin will undoubtedly confront them, but he's counting on their vampire abilities giving them the element of surprise. They didn't have a one-hundred percent success rate for nothing. They got it by being the best. They're better than whatever troopers Tarkin can throw at them. He might have the numbers, but they have skill. They have enhanced speed and strength and senses, as well as a deep telepathic bond that lets them all communicate without words. And Hunter has the Force and lightsabers. They'll be fine. They have to be.

Everything is quiet, almost eerily so, when the Marauder lands in the hangar bay, and the Force prickles uneasily. Hunter's heart is pounding in his chest as they disembark from the ship. He can feel the danger curling around them, threatening them harm, and he has a feeling that this is all about to go very, very badly, but at the same time, he doesn't know what else to do. They can't just abandon the kid here.

"Stick to the plan," he tells his brothers, keeping his voice steady, though they can, no doubt, feel his fear, just like he can feel theirs. They're all worried. "Split up, find Omega, meet back here at the ship."

No one stops them as they leave the hangar, splitting up once they get into the facility. Hunter goes alone – he's the one with the Force and lightsabers, so he has the biggest advantage – while Echo and Tech go to get into the system to try and locate Omega, and Wrecker and Crosshair go the opposite direction that Hunter is.

He doesn't quite know where to start, but he can sort of feel her in the Force, distantly, a pinprick of light on the edge of his senses. Focusing on her, picking out her Force presence from all of the others is tricky though, and it's not something he's skilled enough to do. Anakin would be able to, but Hunter isn't him.

There's a sharp stab of something in the Force, and he tenses instinctively, hands inching towards his weapons, but it's not near him. It's – it centers around one of the others. They're in danger. Only minutes later, his comm beeps, and he answers it warily. If something was really wrong, they'd have contacted him via their bond, right?

It's Crosshair's comm, but it's not Crosshair who speaks. It's Tarkin.

"I would advise you to surrender yourself, Sergeant," he says in an imperious way that rubs Hunter the wrong way, probably purposefully on his part, "Unless you wish harm to come to your sniper. The Empire does not tolerate failure."

Defeat washes over him. This is what Crosshair warned them about, and he hadn't listened. He would still have come back, though, because he cannot leave Omega to the Empire, not when she's one of them, too. That would be wrong.

Still, he has to make sure, so he reaches out for Crosshair, through their bond, sending him a wordless flicker of a question, and in answer, Crosshair pushes the feel of his current situation, on his knees, at least six blasters pointed at his back, ready to shoot if he tries to fight back. He might be a vampire, but he can't get out of that alone, and if Hunter delays, he has no doubt that Tarkin will give the order to shoot.

He can't lose Crosshair, and if one of those blaster bolts hits his heart or brain, he'll die. According to legend, damaging those two organs is the only way to truly kill a vampire – not that they've ever tested that theory, but they've heard the reports from the 501st, and so far, that does seem to be legitimate.

"I surrender," Hunter concedes quietly, dropping his blasters, vibroblade, and lightsabers onto the floor and raising his hands while troopers come to arrest him.

He's lead to a room where the rest of them are gathered, troopers everywhere, at least a couple dozen blasters pinned on them. Tarkin is there, too, staring down at Hunter with a disdain that makes him furious. He's stronger than everyone in this room, and he could probably take them all down alone, if not for the fact that Crosshair could be killed. He doesn't trust himself to stop the blaster bolt from the blaster that's leveled at the back of his youngest brother's head in time to save his life. They'll have another chance to get out later, once the guards lower their weapons a little.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Tarkin says airily, looking not at Hunter, but at Crosshair.

He snarls a little, very quietly, his glare dark and mutinous, and Hunter feels something inside himself twist with unease. What's Tarkin talking about? What did Crosshair do? Tarkin notices Hunter's expression – of course, he does – and he smirks slightly, knowingly. "I'm sure he didn't tell you that he reported to me about your abilities," he says victoriously. "You must understand. You're sensitive to the Force, with lightsabers and training, and you could be a threat. He was only doing his duty, as you all should have."

Wrecker growls, jolting forwards, but freezing when the blaster aimed at Crosshair is pointedly pressed against the back of his head. That doesn't stop his furious, betrayed cry of how could you?! through their bond.

Hunter feels it, too, the hurt, the stinging betrayal, the outrage, and he tries to keep his face blank as the troopers strip them of their gear, but he knows Crosshair can feel it all, from him and from the others, and he sees the way their youngest flinches a little, tensing. He doesn't answer them, doesn't even try to, his mind dark and distant as it has been ever since this started. All Hunter can feel from him is a strange sense of numbness, and when he probes further with the Force, the smallest kernel of guilt and an aching hopelessness. It makes him want to soothe him, for all that he might be hurt by him right now.

He knows it's not Crosshair's fault. It can't be. Tech told them about the programming, and Hunter might not really understand how it works, but he knows that Crosshair would never turn on them of his own. He feels too different in the Force and through their telepathic bond, his mind closed and dark and distant in a way that's unnatural.

"Throw them in the brig," Tarkin orders coldly, and the troopers prod them along with blasters aimed. Tarkin gestures again, and one of them approaches Hunter, putting him in cuffs. He sucks in a breath when, all at once, the Force is gone.

It's crippling, a sudden, gaping emptiness opening up inside of him, and he feels blind, directionless, the pain of the Force's loss nearly bringing him to his knees. Desperately, he reaches for his brothers, for the bonds that bind them, but it feels like taking a leap into the dark. There's nothing there, nothing; he can't feel them. He can see them, and dimly, he can sense the pinpricks of light that are them in the back of his mind, but he can't feel them, can't feel anything, and he never knew how much he relied on the Force and his vampire abilities until right now, until he's been cut off from them.

Hunter?

He can feel the pitch of concern in Tech's voice as it filters into his mind, and he inhales a shaky half-gasp as he tries to keep his balance and keep moving when the troopers shove him forward. His head is spinning, and he can't think or focus on anything except the sudden emptiness within him.

I'll be fine, he tries to answer, but he's not fully certain if Tech can hear him, if any of them can. They can figure it out once they're put in the brig, but he stops dead when he realizes who's missing.

"Crosshair –" he starts, half-panicked, not wincing when a blaster is jabbed into his back hard enough to bruise.

"Keep moving," orders the troopers, and reluctantly, Hunter moves forward, mindful of the ever-growing distance separating them from Crosshair.

This is wrong. They're supposed to stay together. If they're together, they can get out more easily, because he has no doubt that Wrecker is more than strong enough to rip the cuffs off his wrists, but if they don't have Crosshair or the kid, they can't just… run.

The rest of the trip is a blur, and Hunter sinks to the bench in the back of the cell with a groan, his vision blurring around the edges from the aching emptiness inside of him, twisting him, unmaking him – Is that even possible? How much of his vampire abilities are rooted in the Force? He can't… change back, can he?

All he knows is that he hurts.

Distantly, he can hear Echo and Wrecker talking to each other, their voices quiet, and then, Tech's voice draws him from his spiraling thoughts.

"Well, the plan wasn't a total failure," he says, and Hunter blinks, trying to process the words, turning to scout the cell, his eyes immediately falling on Omega who is sitting in the corner opposite him.

She waves, almost sheepishly, and her brow is furrowed with concern when she looks at him. "I warned you not to come back."

"Mm," he manages, "We were… looking for you." He blinks, and for a moment, he could swear that the durasteel flooring is strangely spotted, but it still looks normal, and what is happening to him –?

"Me?" she squeaks, eyes widening with surprise.

"Y-yeah," he answers, his voice trailing off, as a shudder works its way through him. He feels dizzy, distant, wrong, an ache starting up inside of him, gnawing him apart. Is – if these were left on him, would he die? Could he die? Or would he just suffer in agony for perpetuity? He does not want the answer to that.

"We came back to find you," Echo tells her. "It's not safe for you to stay here, either."

"You came back for me?" she repeats, and Hunter knows the conversation is continuing, but he can't focus on it anymore, can't focus on anything until he feels Wrecker's hand land on his shoulder.

"What's wrong with him?" he's asking, sounding worried, and Hunter shudders when he feels the probe of a mental touch, feeling stripped bare and vulnerable without the Force or his natural vampire abilities working so he can shield himself. He feels raw, and it hurts, too. Everything hurts.

"It's the cuffs," Tech replies. "They're restricting his access to the Force."

Tech's hand is on his other shoulder, rubbing lightly, and Hunter leans closer, whining wordlessly.

"Can I take 'em off?" Wrecker queries.

"Be careful," Tech warns as Wrecker reaches for them, "It could hurt."

Hunter grits his teeth, bracing himself, meeting Wrecker's worried eyes and giving him a firm nod, as he tests the cuffs before yanking. He's so strong that they snap right off, but not before sending a violent jolt of electricity through Hunter's body – and Wrecker, too – sending him spasming on the bench, gasping audibly. Wrecker stumbles back from it, yelping, but he doesn't fall or give away anything to the guards, who can't really see what they're doing, thankfully.

The Force comes back in a rush, blinding and overwhelming him, and he half-whimpers, clutching his head. It's too much toomuchtoomuch.

Reality flickers in and out along the edges as he's bombarded by feelings and thoughts and words and emotions and too much stimuli, his breathing ragged as he struggles to pull up his shields again, reinforcing them. When he's regained control of himself, it's to the others all huddled around him, close but not touching, Omega curled at his side on the bench, though she, too, is keeping her distance.

"We – we gotta get out of here," Hunter rasps out, straightening. His head is still throbbing, and it probably will be for a while, but the pain is nothing when he has the Force back. He's a vampire, neigh invincible, and he can keep pushing through this. It's nothing. Instinctively, he reaches for his brothers, for the bonds that bind them, and he can feel Crosshair far away from them, still in the facility, but he's… in pain and unconscious.

"How're we going to do that?" Omega whispers, curious. "What's happened? I know something about you is… different, but I didn't hear any details."

"It's a long story, kid," Hunter tells her. "We'll fill you in when we get out."

He checks with the Force, and there's only three guards nearby. Easy. The control panel is close, too, and it'll be easy to deactivate it. The guards come first, though, and Hunter focuses, lifting a hand and pushing. They're hurled backward into the wall before they know anything is wrong, falling to the floor, stunned, and while Omega gasps, eyes wide and a little alarmed, Hunter turns his focus to the controls. It's easy to grasp the lever and tug it down, deactivating the ray shield, and in a moment, they're on their feet and out of the cell.

"Woah, how'd you do that?" Omega asks, awed, "And you're moving so fast."

"We're not human anymore," Wrecker tells her, patting her head. "Think you can keep up, or do I need to carry you?"

"I can't move that fast," she replies, obviously unsure if she can believe him.

"We need to get Crosshair," Hunter interrupts, "And fast. Wrecker, you'd better carry her. Let's move."

They steal the blasters from the guards and take off into the hallway, letting their speed and senses guide them forward. Omega squeaks, surprised by how fast they're moving, and she buries her face against Wrecker's shoulder, probably when the speed makes her dizzy.

We gotta get our gear, Hunter sends to the other three telepathically, and they all pause, looking at each other, ducked behind a corner. The facility is huge, and they have no idea where to even begin searching. He needs his lightsabers. If he has them, it'll be far easier to make their escape. It takes a moment for him to focus on the Force, searching for the twin songs of his kyber crystals, but when he locks in on them, he can sort of map out their probable location.

"The hangar," he says aloud. "I think our gear's in the hangar."

The kid perks up at that. "Yeah, they started taking your things to the hangar," she informs them, and they take off running again.

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