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As Crosshair looks around the quarters, hundreds of memories play through his mind in a jumble. Everything in the large room looks wrong. This can’t be the same space in which he shared with his batch in between missions. The space is uncharacteristically clean and organized. There is no weird smell to contend with except the new harsh scent of metal and medical grade disinfectant. The room feels ten degrees colder than normal, and Crosshair can’t tell if he’s just imagining it. Some things remain the same though, and serve as proof that this is indeed where he lived with his family. The carved indentations on the wall keeping a tally of their successful missions. Indecipherable scribbles and diagrams on the walls of Tech’s bunk. Their batch’s skull symbol illustrated on the wall of Hunters. Crosshair’s own bunk has been stripped of what little he had displayed. He walks over to it, setting his rifle against the frame before sitting down. The other imperial soldiers are setting down their own weapons and resting in bunks that don’t belong to them. The intrusive thoughts that commanded his actions slide into the background of his mind and he’s left with the sickening realization of everything he’s done. Everything is wrong.
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Crosshair lies on his bunk in the dark. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He was exhausted from putting up a fight in his own mind. At first, he tried to fight the intrusive thoughts that seemed to control his actions, but it was of little use. Anytime he would try to fight back against them, all he would get was a splitting migraine. After the regs took him from the brig to the medical bay, the thoughts were too powerful to even be negotiated with. His will was nothing in the face of what now controlled his body.
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After several failed attempts, Crosshair accepts that he won’t be sleeping tonight. The events of the day would appear behind his eyelids anytime he closed them. Killing the civilians in Saw Gerrera’s camp and murdering the imperial soldier that spoke out against his actions. Ruthlessly playing on a loop in his mind. How many people had he killed today? He tried to remind himself that it’s irrelevant, because this isn’t him. He is not in control. Crosshair is reminded of the moment in the brig with Omega.
“We can debate my choices later. For now, let’s focus on getting out of here.”
Not wanting to be near anyone, Hunter specifically, Crosshair stalks to the other side of the small space and sits down. He sighs and closes his eyes while gingerly rubbing the side of his forehead. Ever since Kaller, he’s had a stubborn headache that gets worse the more he argues with his batch. Lost in his conflicted thoughts, Cross doesn’t notice Omega sit down beside him until she simply states, “You’re angry.”
He sends her a glance and sarcastically says, “How perceptive.” But truly, he wasn’t angry, more so confused than anything. He rests his head on his fist and stares ahead.
Ever persistent, she ventures, “I know what you’re going to do… but please, don’t.”
Not understanding what she means, he bitterly says, “What do you know?” shaking his head and holding his angular chin in thought.
“I know it’s… not your fault.” She gently puts her small hand on his shoulder. “You can’t help it.”
Dropping his hand and turning to look at her in surprise, he startles slightly at the unfamiliar but not unpleasant contact. Shocked into stillness, he searches her genuine expression and when all he sees is her earnest eyes; he softens his expression. Maybe this girl wasn’t so bad.
He was secretly grateful for that moment of kindness. Though, much to his chagrin, Cross realized Omega had been growing on him. He recalls the moment she expertly shot his blaster out of his hand and feels his miserable expression warm a degree. A large part of him had been angered, but the part that was him was impressed. He wondered where she learned to do that because, to his understanding, she was a medical assistant and not a cadet. Well, either way he was thankful because if it wasn’t for her intervention, he would have shot Hunter. The thought all but eats him alive.
Crosshair thinks back to when he shot Wrecker and feels his breath catch. He had amassed as much will as he could to make it a non-lethal shot, but he still got him clean on the side of his chest plate. The shot hitting him so hard that his helmet came off as he fell to the ground. Crosshair couldn’t stop the image from playing over and over in his mind and he dug his knuckles into his eyes in an attempt to bore the scene out of his skull. He desperately hoped that Wrecker was not seriously injured. As much as Wrecker annoyed him, he was like his little brother, and Cross cared for him all the same.
Knowing that there was nothing he could do to save the batch if he was sent on a mission to go after them frightened Cross to no end. Clone Force 99 was the only family he ever felt he belonged to and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Crosshair would kill a million people before he let anything happen to them. They had been together every waking moment for as long as he can remember.
Crosshair is not like the other members of his batch. Crosshair had always been the one that was quick to see the negatives of any situation. He knows he must annoy them to no end with his bleak and sarcastic attitude, but it’s the only way he knows to be. Crosshair has learned over the years to put up walls to protect himself. This sadly meant that his family was also faced with impenetrable borders.
As a cadet, Crosshair had been the smallest of all the others. Before his growth spirt, he was short and practically skin and bones. This of course made him a target for the more predatory reg cadets. The regs didn’t feel like his brothers when they were cruelly pushing him around and kicking him into the ground. Even then, his family had his back.
He can remember many times where Wrecker beat a group of fellow cadets senseless for bullying Cross. The thought of a young Wrecker brought a slight smile to his face. He was already the largest of the clones with an appetite to match. Wreckers large head was free of the large scar that he would get later on one of their missions.
He realized then that his face is damp with tears. Angrily wiping them away, he feels embarrassed at such an emotional display.
He misses his family.