Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Havoc Marauder was quiet.

It was an extraordinarily scarce phenomenon that hardly occurred, but was, inevitably, possible. Because while the Bad Batch were rowdy, loud, hyper and always doing something , they were still human. And humans, well, needed to sleep. So that’s what they were doing. Omega was curled comfortably in her gunner's chair, cradling Wreckers beloved tooka doll in her arms. The bright, pulsating light of hyperspace peeked in through a crack in her curtains, but she continued to snooze, seemingly unfazed by the brilliant light of passing stars. 

  Echo slept in the top bunk, right above the snoring, hulking form of Wrecker. Echo faced the wall of the ship, his body rising and falling softly as he silently slept. He looked calm. Serene. Safe, cocooned in the delicate, and soft blankets. His cybernetic parts whirred lazily, underused and finally at rest. The soft glow of his head piece was one of the only things visible in his dark, snug corner.

  Wrecker, on the other hand, lay with his mouth partly open, amplifying his rather violent snoring. It was truly a miracle anyone got sleep on the crowded, compacted ship, which managed to ricochet every insignificant sound into a blaring alarm. With Wreckers snores broadcasting across the entire shuttle, Tech had taken the necessary precautions and implemented sound proofing in the cockpit. Which was where he was now, leaned back in his seat, head lolled back in relaxation and contentment. No one knew if he was actually comfortable, but if he was uncomfortable, he failed to ever make it noticeable.

  Hunter, the Batch’s stoic and steadfast leader, was sound asleep as well. His guard was lowered, and he was finally oblivious to the sights, smells, and sounds of the outside world. The constant chaos he always felt was subdued, and for the first time in a long while, he heard nothing, felt nothing, and smelled nothing. His unconsciousness had never felt so liberating. The pulsing of the ship was gone. The smell of burning metal and dust had all but disappeared, and the sounds of the galaxy seemed to finally quell. He clutched his pillow, perhaps liking the soft fabric, and slept soundly knowing his brothers and Omega were safe with him, and he with them. 

   This was probably one of the best sleeps they’ve had in months, and each of them were secretly grateful that the hyperspace route they had been forced to take had been extremely long and winding. They wouldn’t be at their destination for a while, and were enjoying the bliss of having to do nothing for a good chunk of time. Cid hadn’t bothered to check on them, as if somehow knowing that her favorite clones were enjoying a well deserved nap. The empire hadn’t been able to reach them for a while, and had almost been losing interest in the rogue clones, and the bounty hunters after Omega had all but disappeared. Life was good at light speed. Very good indeed. 

          That was, until, the ship jerked violently, unexpectedly. Immediately, everyone was awake, jostled out of their beds and seats and onto the cold metal floor, eyes wide with bewildered shock. The ship shuttered, and a loud, grotesque groan radiated from its bowels. It brutally thrust itself out of hyperspace, and in doing so threw its occupants from their places of rest. Once the marauder had ungracefully expelled itself from lightspeed, its power shuttered, and its inner alarms had blurted to life, screaming to its crew that there was very severe, and possibly fatal, damage to its hull. It was spinning out of control, even while Tech had clutched the steering wheel in an attempt to steady the Marauder. It had too much speed behind it, and was helplessly jostling itself across the massive expanse of space. 

   Hunter had managed to gain a foothold on the metal floor, all the while steading himself as he grasped his bed frame in a death grip. Wrecker was attempting to stand up, but the consistent, vicious spinning had filled him with vertigo, rendering him weak and severely dizzy. Echo was on the floor, recovering from his dramatic fall to the ground from the top most bunk. He refused to move, and instead lay there, holding his head in his hand and grimacing; he had hit it head on his way down, and now it throbbed painfully with the uncontrolled movement of the marauder, only amplifying his visible discomfort.

  Hunter's ears burned with the piercing sound of the ship's alarms, but that was the least of his concern as he remembered, with a sharp pang of panic, that Omega had been in her room, sleeping peacefully like her brothers. Steeling himself, Hunter bolted to her room. He stumbled, struggling to gain purchase in the ever shifting environment, but eventually he was able to grasp the latter leading up to the gunner’s nest. Climbing up the best he could, he barged in, his face laced with protective panic. He found Omega grasping her chair, the Tooka doll that had been thrown from her grip lay uselessly on the floor, sliding with the tumbling of the Havoc Marauder. She noticed Hunter struggling into her room, and her eyes lit up. 

“Hunter!” She called, her voice laced with fear. “What is happening? Are we under attack?” she looked afraid, knuckles white against her skin as her grip tightened around her chair. Hunter grunted, straining to gain a grip on the smooth metal. Hoisting himself up into her chair, he beckoned for Omega to clamber into his arms, who obeyed the command without hesitation. He cradled her as best he could during a crisis, and carried her back into the main room of the Marauder, where Wrecker was trying not to vomit, and Echo was trying to get away from the green-tinged face of his larger brother.

Hunter attempted to get into the cockpit, maybe ask Tech what the kriff was going on, and get a grip on the situation at hand. The cockpit doors had started to open, but- to his dismay- became jammed halfway, forcing a sigh from the frazzled sergeant who squeezed himself and Omega through the partially opened doors. Tech was there, his face strained and focused, as he attempted to regain control of the shuttle. The buttons and lights of the ship blinked in urgency, the power malfunctioning and flickering almost rhythmically. 

“Tech, what the kriff is going on?” Hunter demanded, his voice taking on a sharp tone rarely heard.  He remembered Omega, pressed fearfully against his frame, and inwardly smacked himself for using such language in front of a kid.

Tech adjusted his goggles, grimacing as the Marauders steering wheel seemed to fight him.  “Unknown. It seems that the Havoc Marauder has encountered spontaneous combustion somewhere in its engine during our flight through hyperspace. We are currently spinning out of control toward a planet.”

Kriff.

“...Which planet?” Hunter asked, almost frustrated with Tech’s dismissive behavior towards the promise of violently crashing in an unknown part of space.

Tech glanced at the navigation window on the front lower console.

”If this is correct, then we are headed for the outer rim planet of Sorgan.”

Hunter was silent, searching his brain for any mention of the name Sorgan. He had never heard of it before, most likely because it was not of any strategic importance during the war. Or any war, for that matter. Although, he did find it odd that the planet had never been mentioned at least once. Of course, it was in the distant outer rim; it had to be a complete scug hole, and most probably incredibly inhospitable and fairly dangerous. He glanced at Omega, who clung to him like a lifeline. The idea of a kid such as herself stranded on an outer rim was.. upsetting, to say the least.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. This wasn’t looking too good.

The ship leveled out, its spinning controlled and halted by the persistent attempts to right it by Tech. The sound of the door's metallic groan alerted him to the arrival of Wrecker, who had pulled the doors completely open effortlessly. Echo followed, and pushed past his larger brother to take his place in the co-pilot seat.  “What’s the situation? Tech, have you run a diagnostic yet?” 

“Diagnostics seem to be offline. Whatever has occurred, it seems to have done severe damage to the Marauders internal system and selective external parts of the hull, specifically in that we are missing the hyperdrive.”

The cockpit went silent. Hunter was the first to recover from his stupor. ”The hyperdrive.. It’s gone ? And you didn’t bother telling us this earlier?” 

Tech nodded curtly, ignoring the sergeant's sharp tone. “We are approaching Sorgan, but we will not land gracefully. Our landing gear is offline, and our engines are refusing to respond. We will hit land at full speed, unless we cut the engines manually as soon as we enter the atmosphere.”

Hunter cursed inwardly, this time mindful of Omega's presence.

 Echo looked at Tech incredulously, eyebrows raised and furrowed. “Are you insane? If we cut the engines, that crash will end up destroying our ship and, not to mention, whoever shuts down the engines will be in a lethal position when this thing lands!” 

Tech glanced at him.

 “If we do not, the impact of landing at our current speed will guarantee all of our deaths. This is, unfortunately, our only option.” 

Echo sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Kriff.” he muttered. Wrecker looked worried, creasing his face. “Is there any maintenance facility here?” He asked, looming over Tech, who shook his head, focused on recalibrating the system console. “Not that I am aware of. However, there are a few sparse settlements.”

Wrecker hummed anxiously, watching out the window at the quickly approaching planet. 

“Tech.” Hunter said, giving Omega to Wrecker, who took her in his arms instinctively, ”I'll shut down the engines when the time comes, just tell me when. The rest of you, strap in.” 

Omega stared at Hunter in horror- terror flooded over her face, her eyes going wide. She struggled against Wreckers grip, who let her down carefully. “Hunter, n-no! It’s too dangerous- you heard what Echo said, you could die!”

Hunters heart broke at the sight of her. He could hear it in her voice- she was about to cry.

His eyes softened, and he lowered himself to her level at the floor. Kneeling, he gently cupped her small face in his large hands, surprisingly gentle and almost.. Fatherly. She couldn't handle it anymore. It was too much. She turned her face away, unwilling to show him her helpless tears that streamed down her cheeks, like silent stars across the sky.

"Omega." He spoke, his voice was soft, kind and reassuring in the way it rasped against the still quiet of the cockpit. "Omega, look at me." 

She didn't want to- she couldn't. But his hands were steady, tender with love. So she looked back at him, gazing at each scar and crease in his familiar face. He looked weary, tired. But the life in his eyes was bright, untainted by death and all the harm that accompanied it. It was reassuring to see the warmth in his eyes, like a fire that never died. 

"I'll be ok. I'll come back to you, alright?" 

"...Promise?" She sniffed.

He smiled softly, using his thumb the clear a rogue tear from her cheek. "I promise."

Hunter rose to stand, and Wrecker gently scooped up Omega into his arms to strap her into a seat. 

Echo looked at the floor, a multitude of thoughts and feelings passing his face until finally, he spoke. “Hunter, let me do it. We need you here-”

“No, Echo.” Hunter interrupted. "I need you for when the engine turns off. You’ll be necessary for landing the ship and helping Tech." He paused, and then muttered a small "I'll be fine", which didn't do much to ease he cyborgs fear for his brother.

“Wrecker,” Hunter called, gesturing for his brother to come close. He finished securing Omega into her seat, and quickly arrived to address his sergeant.

"Yeah?" He sounded quieter than usual. 

"Be prepared to use your strength. This crash will not be good, and you'll be imperative to making sure everyone gets out alright, understand?" He placed a hand on his brother broad shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze. "I'm counting on you to be there for them."

Wrecker blinked, taken aback by the sudden order. "S-sarge?-"

“We are almost entering the atmosphere. Hunter, I recommend you head down there now. I will comm you when the time comes to deactivate the engine.” Tech muttered, trying not to look at his brothers. 

Hunter nodded, and made his way to the engine room that lay underneath the deck. His hand removed itself from Wreckers armor, and he made his way to the engine room in quiet resolve. 

     He opened the hatch to the maintenance deck- readily placing himself at the engines manual override controls, waiting patiently -calmly- for Tech to give the word. He could feel the ship jostle and hitch with the force of the atmosphere burning into the hull. He hoped the shields were still online, but a part of him was relatively sure that they most likely had gone offline from.. whatever had occurred. 

He heard his comm link crackle to life.

“Hunter, Now!” Tech yelled, his voice muffled by the chaos.

  Hunter immediately pulled down the lever, grunting with effort as it almost seemed to fight him, but it came down with his strength, killing the engine's roar directly. The ship went silent and dark, save for a few things that ran without the engine's power. The ominous glow and hoarse sounds of the wind outside made Hunter feel frighteningly alone, but he knew he would not be able to get out of the engine room in time for the “landing”. He could feel the planet getting closer. Could feel the pulsating energy. It was getting closer too fast. Oh, he knew this was going to be bad. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he died from the sheer impact of the crash alone, never mind the flying debris and mauled ship. He grasped the nearest pipe he could find, and squeezed his eyes shut in order to brace himself for the violent, imminent impact of the planet's surface.

He could feel it arriving, could feel the ship falling. It was horrible. 

 The Havoc Marauder touched down in a ball of flame. It scorched the ground as it slid and tumbled through the forested, green landscape, its destructive path a sharp contrast to the beauty of the vibrant green surrounding it. The Marauder snapped, its cockpit separating from the rest of the ship. The engine room took the full brunt of the impact, protecting the larger part of the shuttle. The cockpit lodged its nose into the ground, stopping its turbulent rampage, while the other half of the ship rolled and rolled, its hull grinding against the trees, boulders, and the tough earth. Eventually, it came to a halt, half submerged in a relatively deep lagoon. Smoke bellowed from its destroyed structure, painting the sky above it in an ominous black.    

Hours passed, and the light of day faded into that of the darkness of night. Smoke still slithered from the cockpit, which was stuck in a large mound of dirt and dislodged roots of trees.

    It was during the time of early night, that Wrecker awoke.

He groaned, hugging his arm close to him. It hung at an odd, alarming angle, slightly out of place from his shoulder. That couldn't be good. He tried to move it, but stopped as soon as he felt something pop and buckle. He hissed, feeling a throb emanate from the joint. 

Great. Its kriffing dislocated.  He thought, bitterly looking at his shoulder in utter betrayal. He huffed, steading his breathing as he used his good arm to grab onto his dislocated one. He inhaled, and exhaled, preparing himself for the pain he new was coming. It was fine- He'd be fine- He'd done this thousands of times.

It doesn't make it any easier, though. 

He roughly- brutally- grasped the dangling arm with his iron grip, quickly lifting it up and into the socket at his joint. It popped and creaked, throbbing and screaming with complaints. He groaned, tears almost prickling at his eyes. Oh, Force, it had hurt. But, he knew it would have been worse to have just left it as is. He sighed heavily, finally feeling the throb in his arm dissipate into something more manageable. Upon clearing the spots from his vision, he immediately took notice of his squad. He frantically removed himself from his seat, standing in the center of the Marauders cockpit to evaluate the situation with newfound fervor.

Were they alright? Had they survived the crash? Wrecker saw Omega, passed out in the straps of her seat. She looked fine, was still breathing, and had most likely been too terrified to stay conscious anymore. Tech lay slumped over the console and wheel, his head leaked red. Wrecker was immediately by his side, gently removing him from his pilot's chair to the stability of the floor. He had sustained a cut to his forehead, and one of his goggle lenses had been cracked. Kriff, wrecker cursed. Head injuries were not to be taken lightly. He knew Tech could be in trouble, or he could be fine. He hoped it was the second option, while bandaging his brother's wound with care. 

After Tech was taken care of, Wrecker moved to check on Echo. His leg had been crushed by the indented front of the ship. Lucky for him, he only had artificial legs to worry about, less it could have been much, much worse. Wrecker peeled back the crushed metal with relative ease (when he ignored the pain in his arm), freeing his brothers' cybernetic appendage. He gently carried him to the floor next to Tech, and continued to observe him. He looked alright, his helmet saving him from more damage. Just a little bit shaken up, most likely. Wrecker sighed, heavy with relief. Oh, thank goodness his brothers were alright. They weren’t dead. He wasn’t alone. They were ok. 

He calmed, until he remembered with a startled, horrified jolt that Hunter wasn’t here.  

He wasn’t with them.

  Oh. Oh no.

 Wrecker immediately ran to the cockpits doors, which were closed shut together as a response to the crash. He struggled to open them, his teeth gritting in effort, muscles flexing in exertion, his grip shaky, frantic, and unfocused. 

  A sharp pain brought him back to the world, as he remembered his previously dislocated shoulder. It complained, surely having already started to bloom with a terrible bruise beneath his armor and blacks. He sighed, letting go of the door and rubbing his arm half heartedly. Jeez, it was annoying. But he needed to get through. He didn't have time for bruised shoulders and popping joints- Hunter didn't have time.

  He huffed, rose from his spot on the floor, and tried again. He grimaced, teeth gnashing as he ignored the screaming from his arm. He groaned, struggling against the lock on the door. 

Why wasn't it cooperating? Just give way already! 

He flinched, suddenly feeling the durasteel door fold and crease. He grasped the loose end, molding it like one did while molding clay. It groaned in that metallic way ships did, as if it was surprised by the unnatural way it was being pulled. Yes! Finally! His muscles flexed, ignoring the pain in shoulder, and he carefully removed the door from its hinges, letting it fall carelessly on the floor in front of him. He expected it the clang against the metallic floor of the Marauder, but he was alarmed to hear.. nothing. Just a soft pat onto the ground beneath it. And then he noticed it. Grass. Eyes widening, he looked up slowly, carefully, horrified by the sight before him. His breath shuddered, feeling the wild night wind brush against him.

 Behold, instead of seeing the other part of the Marauder, he was greeted with the light of the moon dancing on the tops of trees. He saw the night sky and the stars, the grass barely illuminated by the pale, solemn glow of midnight. It was startlingly dark towards the thicker areas of the forest, where the weak light of night failed to pierce its thick shadow. He saw small, bioluminescent bugs that hummed lazily on the grass, their bodies pulsing with their small, insignificant, golden light every now and again. He saw the crater the nose of the ship had made when it had skidded across the wilderness, taken aback by the deep width of the trench and the path of trees they had managed to uproot and destroy.

Wrecker plopped down onto the grass heavily, staring off into the dark. Fear, panic, and a growing sense of dread whelmed up in him as he gazed sightlessly into the depths of the forest. Where was the other half of the ship? Where was.. 

Where was Hunter? 

Kriff. 

Kriff. 

Kriff. 

Tears pricked at his eyes. 

Even if Hunter survived, he could very well be..

His brother could be…

Wrecker snapped his head to an area of trees. 

He had heard a noise, as if a large animal had been scurrying through the underbrush. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to pierce the darkness. 

To see what it was he felt was staring at him.

 Watching him. 

Stalking, just beyond his line of sight. 

He stood up slowly, carefully groping for his large vibroknife he always kept sheathed at his calf. He held onto the hilt, ready to defend his family from the shadows beyond the dark. He was in a ready stance, eager and prepared for a fight. 

Seconds turned into minutes, and eventually he calmed down. 

Nothing had materialized from the tree line, although the lingering sense of dread had embedded itself into him, and it refused to leave- his instincts still gripped him and warned him that there was something out there, waiting for prey.

Wrecker hesitantly turned from the darkness, and walked back into what was left of the Marauder. He gingerly put the door back, at least to where it covered the entrance for the night. He would wait for when his brothers woke up, and hopefully find Hunter.. Alive.  For now, as much as he wanted to search for the sergeant, he couldn't leave Tech, Echo, and Omega defenseless and alone. Hunter had ordered him to protect them, and that’s what he would do. He double checked his brothers bandaging, their vitals, and even decided to bandage his own arm, keeping it encased and suspended in a makeshift sling. He had looked at his handy work and frowned, unsure of his own medical expertise. It wasn't exactly his strong suit, but it would have to do for now. He sighed loudly, sitting down against the wall of the ship. He found himself glaring at the door. There was a noise from outside. It was subtle, quiet, but obviously there, and it made him impossibly uneasy. He gripped his knife. There was something out there, and he wouldn't let it in. 

An hour passed, and he heard it move on. It huffed, treading past the door and galloping past the mangled part of the ship, to somewhere only it knew. 

And Hunter was out there, too.

Chapter Text

Hunter woke up gazing into the night sky.

  There were thousands, upon thousands of stars in the galaxy, each sprinkled across the impossible, dark blanket of space. He could see the distant, spectacular colors of nebulas and galaxies far, far away, only noticeable when the city lights were far enough and the wilderness was all encompassing. It was nice, not exactly foreign to him, but was beautiful to look at nonetheless.

And then a thought occurred, beneath the cloudy haze of his mind.

 What was he.. doing? Why was he here, gazing uselessly up into the beauty of the untouchable? Why did his body feel so heavy and so...numb? He felt like he was floating, entirely unaware of anything corporal. Hm. Maybe he should just go to sleep? He could feel that he wanted to. Maybe it would all make sense in the morning, when the sun would touch his skin, warming him into a sense of subtle awareness. Yes, that seemed right. He could feel his eyes closing, drifting downward, causing his view of the stars to become obscured and rather limited. A shame; they had looked so beautiful. 

The ship lurched, allowing a chorus of metallic groans and screams to fill the quiet of midnight. Hunter's eyes snapped open, and awareness flooded back into him. 

Omega. His brothers. The ship. The crash. Sorgan.

Oh force. 

What was he doing? 

He frantically looked around the room of the hull, searching for anything that could tell him what had happened to his squad. Were they alive? Hurt? Were they.. were they even here? He went still for a moment, closing his eyes and listening, taking a long, slow breath, breathing in the scents around him. There was so much to sort through- the howling of the wind, the rustling of the leaves, the flow of water, the hum of an insect, the damp, humid air of clouds, the moisture in the air that buzzed around him. But through them all, nothing stroke him as familiar. Strange. He couldn't sense his siblings at all. This could mean a multitude of things, and none of them were exactly reassuring. The "what-ifs" began to poke at his consciousness, sneaking in between the lines of rationale in his thoughts. He knew better than to dwell on them, intent in staying focused and reasonable. But he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was scared-- not for himself, but for his squad mates. He needed to get off his ass, and find his family. Force, he hoped they were alright. Please, be alright. A new air of resolve flooded through him, and he immediately began to formulate his escape plan. 

He had vaguely noted the fact that his earlier window into the stars had been a giant, ugly gash torn into the side of the Marauder. It looked fairly large, and definitely seemed big enough for him to climb through. Deciding that the hole in the ceiling seemed to be his most efficient form of exit, Hunter made the decision to leave, and go find his team before anything disastrous occurred, if it hadn't already. 

He attempted to sit up and kriffing move, desperate to squirm out from the mangled durasteel of the attack shuttle and get out, when he froze, his hands balling into fists as his abdomen pulsed with a burning, stabbing pain.

He grit his teeth, letting a small, hardly audible whine escape his clenched jaw. What in the hell was that? 

 He moved his hand to feel around the area where the stabbing throb was most severe. He felt around his stomach, carefully, gingerly, when he felt something.. Peculiar. 

It was cold, and steely, protruding from his abdomen; a piece of durasteel, that had lodged itself deep into him during his ceremonious tumble through the planets atmosphere.

 He felt it carefully, measuring the severity of the situation. A mere graze made the skin around the metal shard scream. The durasteel was sharp; impaling through his armor, skin, and muscle like a massive, annoying, agonizing thorn in his side. 

Great. Just what he needed. 

He sighed heavily, letting his head flop down onto the floor with a heavy thud, eyes squinting in barely kept frustration and pain. He retracted his hands from the wound, letting them flop uselessly at his sides. As a soldier of the Republic, it wasn't exactly a surprise to get injured- hell, his squad was notorious for somehow getting a little roughed up once or twice in the middle of a daring operation, but they always had each other to lean on when the pain got a little too much. Now, however, Hunter was alone, with a potentially fatal wound throbbing at his side, and the only thing that kept him from bleeding out was the thing that had stabbed in him in the first place. This was.. bad. 

But he had survived worse, right?

He steeled himself, ready to move into a sitting position once more. He stopped almost immediately, seeing white spots in his vision; the pain was utterly unbearable. He stifled a yell, and slowly lowered himself back into the floor. 

Shit.

  He groaned, the pain worsening the more he laid there on the cold metal. His heightened senses were not doing him any kind of favors at the moment, instead amplifying the signals throughout his nerves in a cacophony of shrill complaining. He laid unmoving for a long while, intent on focusing on his breathing and ignoring the pressure building on his stomach. 

He had been contemplating attempting to get up again when the ship groaned once more, its metal shifting along with him.

It wasn’t safe here. He had to get out, find his family as soon as possible. 

He would just have to suck it up, and pray he wouldn't pass out.

He huffed, readying himself to withstand the on coming torrent of piercing pain. He clenched his teeth, placed his hand on and around the metal protruding from his torso as to ensure it did not dislodge in his haste to flee, and carefully rose up. He made some sounds that he wasn’t even sure he could create. The excruciating feeling was white and hot against his body, eyes squeezed shut in torture. He got up on his legs, shakily leaning against the wall. He was letting out ragged, shallow breaths, attempting to recover. Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision, making the hull look a lot, lot smaller. 

The ship shifted, and he stumbled to right himself, having been thrusted from his thoughts. The metal groaned, and water began to rush into the unstable hull through some part at the edge of the ship. That's not good. He thought, hazily watching the water gush in, effortlessly rising up to his thighs and darkening his armor with moisture.

 Hand still pressing on his wound, he attempted to climb out of the ragged hole at the ceiling. He looked up from the cool, black water, and quickly spotted the gash, which was illuminated ominously by the moon that had risen farther into the stars.  He waded through the surrounding water, struggling against its uncomfortable pull and loud, overwhelming rush. He had been reaching for the edges of the gap, when he flinched, feeling the sensation of liquid ebbing at his wound. It stung and he hissed in discomfort, standing on his toes to avoid getting more filthy, black swamp water into the hole in his abdomen. 

  He grasped at the sides of the gap; ragged, torn metal digging into his hands. He reluctantly brought up his other blood soaked hand to grasp the edges as well, forcing himself up and over the mangled wires and bent metal that coated the hole from which he emerged. He felt a piece of debris catch on the metal protruding from his stomach, and he gasped in pain, freezing an place. If he wasn't careful, he'd get himself killed just for being kriffing negligent. He carefully maneuvered himself to where his torso had a clear path out, and eventually he crawled forward, emerging out from the wreckage of the marauder and onto its side. 

Once on the outside of the hull, he struggled to brace himself against the slick, wet metal, and he felt his breath hitch, eyes wandering to the dark, watery slug that the ship had lodged itself in. He sighed angrily, measuring the distance between him and the shore. 

Of course he'd have to swim. It was never easy, was it? 

He slowly brought himself to where the marauder met the foul water, and carefully submerged himself into the dark, cool liquid that was swallowing the shuttle, and began to swim to the shore. All the while, he knew his wound was definitely going to become infected, no doubt about it, but he hoped the current of the water hadn’t dislodged the glorious piece of durasteel from its place. 

Each stroke and kick was horrible, shocking pain, as the movement stretched and pulled at the muscle at his side, causing the metal to squirm uncomfortably into his body. Was he at the shore yet? When would this end? Kriff, he was tired.    

    He distantly felt his foot kick at something like dirt, and he hastily stood up, eager to be able to rest his side. He felt the mud and sand shift beneath his weight, no longer swimming through the disgusting, sluggish water, but instead stumbling through its thick ether. To his relief, he saw himself coming upon the embankment of the pond. Lucky for him, It wasn’t far at all, and he slowly made his way towards the welcoming feeling of dry grass and soil. 

He stumbled a few times, still desperately grasping his wound with his left hand. The metal hadn’t come out, and he was silently grateful for that small convenience--but also mildly annoyed, because, well, there was a piece of metal protruding from his kriffing body. 

  Weakness overtook him as he stepped out of the water and onto land; He stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll over in time to prevent the durasteel from lodging itself deeper into his abdomen.  He curled into himself, the pain from his wound burning horribly, and he shivered pathetically as the night wind assaulted his wet, miserable form. His eyes widened in panic as he noticed blood, snaking it way out from behind the metal protrusion. Shit, He thought, applying pressure to his wound, maybe the water dislodged it more than I thought.

The wind of the night brushed against him unkindly, harboring no pity for his ill, trembling form. His wet hair was splayed out on the grass and draped over his face, his soggy bandana weakened and out of place. He knew he probably looked terrible; hell, he felt terrible enough to guess. 

He was surprised it was so...quiet, save for the ominous croaking of the ship in the muddy water behind him. Since when was it so silent in the woods? He could've sworn that he had heard the trill of bugs not too long ago, but now, however, he was faced with the deafening silence of a shunned world. It was unnerving, and he almost wanted to get up and just.. go, but he was tired-- too tired to go on some desperate journey through foreign trees. He hoped the creatures of the woods were just freaked out over the soggy, disheveled man who just emerged from the unsightly swamp water, and closed his eyes in unbridled exhaustion. 

 He laid there, scrunched into a ball in an attempt to preserve his heat, lost to the world, when he heard the crunching of leaves beneath heavy, careful steps. He immediately looked around, eye snapping open and scanning the tree line, frantic and alert. He honed in his senses to pinpoint where and what was lurking beyond the trees, surprised and mildly frightened that he hadn’t sensed something earlier. His eyes struggled to pierce the darkness, but he managed to sense the electricity that all living things radiated.

 He felt it. 

There. Amongst the ferns and bushes. 

It was large…An animal?

 It had to be... But there was something off about the way it felt. Something that made his skin crawl.

It was archaic, ancient, horrible and almost... Human. But that wasn't right. It was too much of a beast, it couldn't be a person. 

 He struggled to rise up, cold and shivering, his armor still slick with water and his long hair dripping with moisture. He instinctively unsheathed the knife at his wrist, letting it weakly dance between his fingers comfortingly all the while eyeing the spot where he felt the creature's presence. It was watching him. It knew he saw it. He could feel the way its heartbeat had begun to race as soon as he locked eyes with its form;  He could feel the way its muscles bunched up in anticipation for the oncoming hunt, bold and strong- flexing with power.

 He attempted to straighten out-- perhaps he’d look more menacing at his full stature-- but he hissed when the wound at his side throbbed, blood seeping out from behind the metal. He was forced to stay partially hunched over, one hand holding his vibroknife, the other cradling the gaping puncture at his abdomen. He would have to make do with his current state, which meant that his opponent was at an advantage while he was forced to stagger through the haze that threatened to overtake his consciousness.

 The part of the forest he was eyeing began to move, ferns and bushes rustling in sly movement. He watched, horrified, as the large animal slinked from out under the shelter of the thick trees, and into the moonlight clearing. It was gazing at him, hunger and poignant avarice burning in its yellow, crazed eyes, its white fur practically glowing in the moon's cool embrace. It snarled, its lips curling back to expose long, sharp, yellowed fangs. Hunter stared at it, attempting to look unfazed by the sheer size of the animal. It was taller than him standing up, had large, scaled, five-toed paws and long, slender legs, but its ribs showed through its fur, pointed and pronounced. It had patches of scales that coated its muzzle and the ridges of its eyes, the reptilian-like features a sharp contrast to the soft fur that furled in the wind. Amplifying its mythical appearance, he noticed that it had a sharp resemblance to the long extinct wolves rumored to roam a planet he had long since forgotten the name of. He had only heard of the wolf creatures from the other clones in the facility, who had all been strangely fascinated by the animals of the galaxy and old myths. 

 He tensed when he saw it begin to walk towards him- its slow, methodical steps were careful and refined, as if it had hunted like this a thousand times over. Its lips were still frozen in an ugly snarl, its ears pinned back against its skull, and its eyes wild. It was salivating, the saliva pooling from the sides of its mouth, obviously starved close to madness. He locked eyes with it, his own steely gaze piercing into that of the beast. He shoved his fear out of his mind, and hardened his grip on his knife, intent on killing this thing if he needed to and getting back to his brothers. 

         It hardly seemed to notice, or care, that Hunter brandished a weapon of his own, too intent on closing the distance between it and its prey. It was prowling, growing closer and closer with each careful, meticulous step. Hunger burned in its uncanny, golden eyes, the uncontrollable need to maul flaming in its pungent stare. 

However, something in its frame shifted, and it halted its advancements forward. Instead, it stooped its head downwards, rubbing its temple with the back of its paws- no, not paws, hands- wildly, as if it had heard a sound repugnant and painful.

  Hunter's eyes narrowed in confusion.

 It began shaking and clawing at its head, frantic and uncontrolled. Whatever was wrong with this thing, it was obviously very, very sick. 

It writhed and whimpered, its noises loud and sobering. It jerked side to side, as if there was a noise it so desperately wanted to get away from. Then, it looked at him. Its eyes were wide, almost human, filled with something like fear. It looked like it was... Pleading with him. Like it wanted him end its misery. He stared into its noctilucent eyes, watery and heartbreakingly desperate in its failing fight against its own insatiable hunger.

 It was drooling lamely, eyes still locked with him. He took a shambling step forward, closing the distance between him and the creature hesitantly.

He brought up his knife, eyeing the spot where he would sink the blade into the wolf's white fur. He would make sure it didn’t feel anything, ensuring that its death would be quick, painless, and easy. All the while, its eyes glistened with relief and barely kept tears, as if it had waited so desperately for this moment. 

That was, until that human look in its eyes shifted, and the animalistic hunger returned with a vengeance. 

Hunter brought down the knife when the creature suddenly side stepped, easily avoiding his swing. 

He jolted back in surprise, securing himself in a defensive stance a few paces away from the imposing beast. The wolf let out a horrid snarl, and it lunged for the hand that held his only weapon. Hunter saw it coming, and he knew to get out of the way, but the wolf was agile, and startlingly quick. It twisted its body unnaturally, its feral instincts completely unpredictable. He tried to move back, but its fangs effortlessly came over his arm, pressing down with its jaws and forcing the knife out of Hunter's grasp. 

With his arm in its monstrous jaws, it threw him down on the ground, forcing the breath from his chest. He got up almost immediately, however winded and dazed, but the creature was faster and It pounced on him, its clawed, scaled hand pressing him into the floor. It growled, carefully pushing its hind paw onto his wound, almost on purpose. He cried out, feeling the metal saw deeper into his skin. The wolf made a beeline for his throat, seizing its moment and eager to finish the kill. 

He brought up his arms, grasping the upper and lower jaws of the beast, forcing them open before they could clamp down on his neck. It struggled against his grip, frantic and wild. It was looking into his eyes, its hot, rotten breath coming in fast bursts from its open mouth. 

He grimaced, straining against its frightening strength. 

 Its teeth dug into his hand, the blood that leaked from his palms and into its mouth seemed to make the creature all the more eager to consume him, as if the blood it tasted was the first nutrient rich substance it had in months. The wolf remembered Hunter's wound and carefully applied more pressure to it, practically digging its claws into the side of the gash, feeling the flesh give way with the sharp piercing of its dagger-like paws. Hunter screamed, aware of the metal and the claws scratching and scathing even more of his insides. It was excruciating. His grip of the animals jaws loosened, and seeing an opening, it attempted to break through his defense. The teeth slid against his throat, pushing against his skin as his hands shook with futile, exhausted strength. Shit Shit Shit Shit It's going to- I'm going to lose. I- I can't leave O-Omega alone. He was not going to be eaten by some dog. He would never hear the end of it. He grit his teeth, ignoring the tearing feeling in his abdomen and mustering up enough strength in his legs to kick the beast off of him. It was hit just below its ribs near its diaphragm, leaving it winded and stunned. It hacked and cough, stammering up and off of him to regain its breath. 

Hunter struggled to his feet, stifling a cry as fresh blood gushed from his tortured side. It ached terribly, and he found himself dizzy from the pain, half aware of the animal that had apparently recovered, looking for a new opening. It was calculating and careful, and made sure to keep itself a guard from his knife, which had been thrown a few feet away during the previous scuffle.

So, it had been intelligent enough to know his blade was a weapon, an yet it still attacked him. This thing must've been insane, or Hunter didn't look as menacing as he thought he did. He kind of hoped it was insanity, but both options were less than desirable. 

The wolf circled him, sardonic and torturous in its method. Hunter could tell he wasn't going to last much longer, having noticed his heavy, uncontrolled breathing, sweaty, clammy skin, and the darkness eating at the corners of his vision. He needed to do something, and fast, or else he was just going to dramatically pass out and get eaten as soon as he hit the ground. He eyed his knife which lay limp in the grass, and he felt the ebb of desperation in the back of his brain. He flickered his vision from that of the wolf, to his weapon, growing increasingly impatient the more it circled around him. Kriff, what was he going to do?  

And then a thought occurred.

An idea.

It was a terrible one, sure, but he needed to get out of here. He needed to return to his squad- He needed to know if they were alright. And he was desperate, so he decided it was the best plan he would be getting. He had remembered Tech saying something about how animals were easily startled by loud, aggressive noises; he hoped his brother was right, and he hoped this animal would react the way he was predicting. 

He inhaled roughly, and yelled. It was savage and rough, but loud and piercing in the quiet of the night air. It was filled with a bold challenge and strings of derogatory curses, mean and angry. The wolf flinched, unsure of what to think, before it howled, an archaic sound full of pain, longing, and hate, and then it charged, quick and violent.

     Hunter stood, anticipating its next moves readily. It leaped, aiming for him, when he slipped himself underneath it, making a beeline to his knife that lay unguarded. He ran fast, ignoring the pain that burned at his side and the warm wetness that seemed to coat his armor. It felt the ground tremble with the running steps of the wolf, as it recovered from its failed attack and pursued its adversary, realizing that it had left the knife exposed and out in the open. Hunter rolled forward, easily grabbing the knife as he did so, prepared to stab the creature he had felt that was right behind him. It pounced as soon as he turned, but its neck was left exposed. Hunter steeled himself, and letting out an angry, defiant yell, he plunged the knife deep into its fur as it landed on top of him, the intent to kill sparkling in its yellow eyes. It let out a horrible, awful scream, wailing and barking in agony. He grunted, gritting his teeth and twisting the knife, plunging it deeper into its neck. It thrashed, desperate in an attempt to loosen Hunter’s vice grip, but before it could wrench itself free, there was a terrible, sickening cracking sound, and its body went limp, eyes rolling upwards towards the sky. He felt it fall on top of him, heavy and unnaturally still. It was dead. 

 Blood pooled from its mouth lazily, and Hunter felt the blood ooze onto his face. He grunted, struggling to push its large, furred body off of him. He ended up having to roll out from underneath it, his strength waning. 

   Once he uncovered himself from the mass of fur, he laid on the floor next to the dead company of the wolf. His adrenaline was fading, and his newly acquired wounds were starting to make themselves known. His arm, for example, throbbed painfully as blood seeped from the holes the animal's teeth had made in his armor, and the teeth marks on his fingers and palms stung. 

He groaned, his hand instinctively going to his abdomen, the source of a majority of his discomfort. He fully expected to feel the piece of metal still secured in the wound, stunting the blood flow, but to his dismay he only felt the gaping hole and the blood that flowed steadily out and onto his armor. His eyes widened, feeling around and applying as much pressure as possible. He took deep breaths. He couldn't afford to lose any more blood, and panicking would only make his heart beat faster. He had to be calm about this, as he always was. He slowly rose up to his feet, and stood. He swayed, a bout of dizziness off setting his delicate state of balance, causing him to stumble, but eventually the world stopped tilting violently and instead stabilized, right side up.

The moon still hung high in the sky, imposing and brilliant in the void of space above him, and for the first time that night, he couldn't help but let unease settle itself in his bones at the sight of its preeminent luminescence. For some reason, the sight of it made his stomach twist with nausea.

It was quiet, he noticed. The animals and insects he had heard earlier had yet to return, perhaps still weary of the presence of Hunter, the thing that killed the resident predator, so the only thing he heard was the wind in the branches of the trees, and his own heavy, exhausted breaths, which made it startingly clear just how hurt he really was.

  He needed to locate his squad. He wasn’t going to make it if he didn’t find them soon, if the blood that continued to leak between his fingers was any indicator of his critical condition. So he concentrated. He focused on his senses, letting them drive him to his destination. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Focus, he heard his mind whisper.

He could feel electromagnetic waves from across the planet effortlessly, locating his squad should be easy, right? So why was he struggling? Why did he only feel that ache in his bones and the throbbing in his side? Come on, Hunter! Now isn't the time to be overwhelmed like some cadet! He inwardly berated himself, finding it difficult to concentrate when everything hurt. 

He grit his teeth, calming himself. He was losing it.

 He honed in his senses, feeling for anything that gave off an electromagnetic frequency. He thought about it, this time going slow and steady. What would be the easiest thing to feel? The ship was most likely busted, and he couldn’t even be sure their equipment would be giving off an aura at all, so he wasn't sure if it would be the best thing to seek out.

And then it hit him.

Echo.

He was a cyborg; part cybernetic, for crying out loud. He was like a walking homing beacon for Hunter, who focused and, with a satisfied half-smile, found his signature frequency with ease from across the forest. His squad wasn’t too far, then. Or at least Echo wasn’t far, not even sure if they had managed to stay together in the crash or had been separated in the turmoil. He locked in on Echo’s location, a couple miles South, deep into the woods, and began to walk. 

An hour or two later, and Hunter was sure he was going to die on the way there. 

   He willed his feet to move, his limbs stiff and sore with body aches which usually accompanied a severe fever and sickness. His wound had stopped gushing blood about an hour ago, and instead a steady, yet lesser flow of blood stemmed between his fingers, the pressure he was placing on the wound never lessening even as his body drained of energy the longer he trekked through the seemingly never ending maze of trees, pines, ferns , and soft mosses. He could feel Echo's signature getting ever closer, but his strength was waning; the blood loss from earlier beginning to take its toll on his body and mind alike. Everything around him seemed so distant and far away, locked behind an impassable, blurry wall.

He kept zoning out- hearing random, distant voices that were scarily similar to the voices he remembered hearing on Kamino when they’d run routine physical exams on him and his brothers to test and examine their desirable functions. He didn't want to hear them. He had to ignore them, because if he began to chase the noise, he knew he wouldn't came back.

   When thoughts rose up from his past as a result of his strange auditory hallucinations, he tried to push them out of his brain, instead eager to focus on the aura that was so familiar to him. Echo radiated a unique signature, one unlike a droid or a human. He was a quaint mix of both; the unique machinery that made up his body was completely foreign to Hunter, making him extraordinarily convenient to locate. Speaking of which, through the haze that threatened to swallow his mind, he noticed that Echo was very, very close.

A relief, because he was pretty sure he needed to lie down or something.

 He stepped forward, but his foot failed to meet the ground, and he went skidding down an incredibly steep slope, tumbling relentlessly in the leaves and dirt that coated the forest floor. He bumped into a tree at the end of the slope which stalled his fall, but also amplified the pain at his side, allowing a deep groan to resonate from his bruised and beaten form. He was so tired, and so sick of walking. He was clammy with sweat, frighteningly pale, and he felt terribly sick, and--to make matters just more annoying-- the bite on his arm began to itch and burn. He couldn’t even reach his skin to relieve himself of the uncomfortable sensation due to his thick armored gauntlets, leaving him sitting there, helplessly rubbing the spot over his armor as if it would heal him of his plight. If he ended up having some form of space rabies or something, then he would just have to power through that to. 

He coughed, his throat sandpaper dry in the crisp, dewy dawn. He hadn’t even noticed that the night had faded and the sun had risen, until the warmth of the light struck him in his weary, bleak eyes, illuminating his dark irises and morphing them into the color of gold. He shielded his eyes with his arm tiredly, squinting against the sudden shift in light.

He sat there for a while, basking in the warmth and accompanied by his own wheezing breath, until he reminded himself of why he was moving and his destination. He grasped onto the sides of the tree, struggling to find his footing in the slick leaves that coated the floor. He shakily rose up, and began to walk- more like stumble -forward, clinging to trees as he passed, resting frequently against the sturdy, moss ridden bark that sat unmoving against his weight. 

The forest was an ugly, blurry painting of green, brown, and yellow, swirling around him in the most nauseating way possible. He bent over, leaning on a tree and trying his hardest not to retch. He groaned softly, pulling himself up and pushing off the tree in a daze. He felt awful. 

 He continued painfully onwards, until he smelled the distinct smell of smoke and metal. His eyes widened, clarity finding itself in his glazed over eyes for the first time that morning. He half-walked, half-ran to the wreckage, the Marauders cockpit lodged in the midst of trees still benignly smoking. He was there surprisingly fast for a man whose whole body burned of fever and malaise, and  immediately-- frantically --knocked on the entrance to the cockpit. He was about to announce his presence, when he swayed with vertigo, suddenly violently sick. He doubled over, the pain in his stomach robbing him of focus. He was dizzy, sweaty, clammy, and his vision was darkening at the edges, while his head swam in the nausea that threatened to make him vomit right then and there in front of the door. He rested against the doors cool metal plating, chest heaving, his breath coming in quick bursts of strained air. 

“It's m-me.” He called weakly, focused on staying awake. He knew he probably should’ve said something more reassuring to his squad, but he struggled to even spit out those simple words. He heard heavy scrambling from behind the durasteel door, and felt it begin to give way while he leaned on it, but he failed to move away, instead feeling himself fall forward, the door suddenly gone and gravity suddenly overbearingly present. Before he hit the floor however, strong arms braced his shoulders, effortlessly lifting and supporting him back up and into a furtive, shaky standing position. They kept him stabilized and balanced while gently leading him inside the cockpit while sealing the door once more.

It was cool, dark, and safe inside the Marauder, and he felt instant relief at the sight of the dim environment. The only light that came through was from the window at the front, but it was too dimmed by the plant matter and dirt that coated the outside of the glass to make any substantial light. Hunter let out a soft, shaky sigh, the pain making it hard to breath and catch his breath. He felt the arms direct him to the floor, where he plopped down on the cool metal in relief, letting his head lean back into the wall . His vision swam, however, this time he did nothing to fight the numbing darkness, finally able to rest.

He did it. He found them. He saw them all there, still unconscious, but they were alive, that he knew.

Through the muffled, underwater world of half-consciousness, Hunter could barely hear someone. He hadn't been sure what exactly they were saying, but they seemed to be frantic and were yelling at him to do something. What was it? Hadn't he done enough?

"..ter!"

What?

"Hunter..! Wake up..!"

He felt light tapping on his cheek, and he flinched. Who was there?

"Hunter!"

He peeled open his eyes, seeing Wrecker kneeled in front of him, face creased in horrified, shocked worry. 

“Sarge, what happened to you?”

Chapter Text

Wrecker was scared.

Now, Wrecker hated being scared. It made everything more difficult, more risky, than he needed it to be; it was easier to be strong- both emotionally, and physically. You couldn't fear anything if you could just beat it into a pulp through sheer, raw strength, and eventually he had forgotten the feeling of fear. Of course, that was until now, when he was faced with his wounded, dying, impossibly ill,  brother. Because no matter how much you tried, you couldn't just beat the hurt out of someone- he had already tried once before- so what could he do? Sure, he could treat minor, superficial wounds or practical first aid, but this?  It was simply out of his scope of field. Reassembling and disassembling active bombs and advanced weaponry was simple, relaxing, and a process he knew like the back of his over-sized hands. But he also knew the human body was something far, far out of his skill set. He was practically helpless, alone, and the only one awake to keep his brother from dying. 

Wrecker looked at Hunter, face creased in barely suppressed panic, horror, and vague disgust.

He looked genuinely terrible. Blood was everywhere. Splattered on his armor, matting his brown hair, drenching his skin, coating his knife- force, it was on everything.

He was noticeably paler than his usual, healthy tanned color, and Wrecker suspected blood loss was the main issue, if the gaping hole in his abdomen was any indictor. He noted the perspiration that made his long hair stick to his skin, and the way his eyes seemed tired and hazy. Wrecker creased his brow, concern rising as he put his hand to Hunter's forehead, gently moving the stray locks of hair out of his face. He could feel the heat of his skin radiate through his gloves, and he almost flinched in horrified surprise.

“Sarge, what happened to you? There's blood all over the place-" He froze, eyes catching on the mauled armor of his right arm. The cuff on his forearm was mangled and mutilated, brutalized in such a way that it was practically just loose metal and plastoid hanging on by small threads. His blacks had been torn and scuffed, revealing the bloodied, open skin underneath. But that wasn't the thing that caught Wrecker's eye- it had been the tell-tale bite marks which sat glaring and ominous on his brothers flesh. The teeth marks were drenched in blood which continued to ooze from the deep lacerations, but even through the crimson liquid, they were obvious and bone-chilling. Whatever had done it was big, and had long, pointed teeth strong enough to tear through armor horrifyingly easily- the thought of it made his hair raise. He raised a hand, carefully trying to pry away the fabric from his blacks' that had buried themselves in the teeth marks, coating themselves in dark red. The teeth must've been.. huge, to be able to dig so deeply into his skin and armor. He cringed, seeing the gouged flesh cling to a particularly problematic piece of clothing. 

Hunter groaned, the anguished sound stirring Wrecker from his process. He sat back up, looking Hunter in the eye as best he could while his sergeant struggled against the call of sleep.

"H-Hunter, were you attacked by something? And your arm, it's kinda messed up sarge, its.. pretty bad- like real bad." 

If Hunter heard him, he didn't respond. Instead, his eyes closed, and he fell forward against Wrecker's chest, who sighed in repressed frustration. He had expected Hunter to pass out sooner or later, but a certain part of him had really wanted him not to do that. 

Carefully, he guided Hunters' limp body to the floor, and he rose to retrieve the medical kit he had been using earlier. The gauze and bandage were running low, but he prayed it would be enough to address a majority of the major wounds, at least the ones gushing blood. He rolled Hunter onto his back, looking for the giant hole in his stomach which he was sure was infected. He bent closer, sniffed it, and recoiled. Ugh, yeah, it was infected. He searched around in the med kit, large hands pushing around inside the small container clumsily until he found the anti-bacterial spray, which he applied rather graciously to the area. Placing the spray back into the kit, Wrecker began to remove the upper pieces of armor. He tucked the abdominal set and chest pieces into a corner of the ship, while he removed the surviving armored cuffs on his arm and shoulders. He would have removed the right cuff, but stopped when he saw its debris lodged into the bite wound. He swallowed, and instead focused on the not-so problematic injury on his abdomen.       

   Cutting into the fabric surrounding the puncture with his knife, he cleaned the skin around it and prepare the site for suturing. He would have preferred to not stitch anything up, untrusting of his large hands with a small needle, but it would be a poor choice to just cover the gash up with gauze and call it a day. He'd done it once before, and received an unsatisfactory result- one he wouldn't want to bestow upon his brother. He unpacked the needle and thread from its sterile casing, and was thankful that Hunter seemed to be out cold, unless this would have been rather...uncomfortable. The needle looked ridiculously microscopic in his grasp, and it felt small and impossible to navigate underneath his fingertips, but he ignored it for the sake of playing doctor, and began to dig the sharp end of the needle into the edge of the frayed skin. It was a rhythmic, slow process, full of pattern and controlled, focused movement. He resisted the urge to squirm each time he pulled at a flap of skin, and caused it to move closer and closer to the other in an attempt to close the wound. Blood gushed and pulsed each time he tugged and yanked, leading to a stream of red which flowed down Hunter's skin and caked itself on Wrecker's black gloves. He thought about how It looked like it hurt, and he wondered if Hunter could feel anything from his unconscious state at all. He hoped he couldn't, but he was unsure what effect his heightened senses hand on him in a state like this. Once Wrecker had finished his stitching job and clipped the thread- glad that that was over- he injected some bacta around the site, hoping to increase the rate of healing. He slapped on some gauze and secured it with an excessive amount of bandage, but in the end decided that would have to be good enough. It looked a little bit shoddy and had a Wreckeresque flare to it, but it wasn't half bad. 

       After finishing with the abdominal wound, Wrecker made his way to taking care of the right arm. He had not been looking forward to this part, mostly because of the tedious nature of cleaning out debris and securing the numerous loose flaps of skin that made him feel extraordinarily uncomfortable to look at. He gingerly, carefully, began to remove the cuff on his forearm, ignoring the way it seemed to crumble in his grip and stick to the bloodied flesh underneath. Eventually, it gave way, and Wrecker was able to discard it in the corner, out of mind and out of sight. He turned back to the mangled flesh, applied some sanitation spray, gulped, and opened up another pack of needle and thread. Once again, it felt awkward and out of place in his hands, making him feel unqualified and too massive for the job, but he took a breath and did it anyway. The ragged sides of the loose flesh were harder to suture than the puncture wound. One had been caused by something smooth and sharp, and created an even, easy gap which could be repaired with ease, contrary to the bite wound, which was ragged and uneven, the torn edges failing to fit in the puzzle pieces of flesh; it was frustrating, to say the least. Not to mention, he had to pick out lingering pieces of dirt and fabric, which meant he had to dig around in the deep red for minute, tiny pieces of inorganic matter. It was revolting. Eventually, however, he managed to complete the task. His arm was stitched up in multiple places, the bite wound providing no symmetry in its mauling. 

     Gently, Wrecker covered the area in gauze and bandages, letting the white, sterile cloth fit snuggly around his brothers' forearm. He sighed heavily, sitting back and crossing his legs in disheveled relief, thankful that the stressful medical situation had been taken care of enough for it to get properly looked after when Tech or Echo awoke. For now, however, he thought it best to relocate Hunter from his uncomfortable spot on the cold, metal floor, to something less steely. With steady, strong arms, Wrecker carefully scooped his brother up, feeling the limp weight of his unconscious form. He stood up, feeling Hunters head rest against his broad shoulder heavily. He silently wished he could take a picture, if only to embarrass him later when they were all healthy and off this planet. With a surprising amount of grace and gentleness, Wrecker set Hunter down upon his chair, letting the seat tilt back enough so he could lay with relative comfort. A soft sigh escaped Hunter, who sunk deep into the scratchy cushions thankfully. 

Wrecker smiled, gently patting his brother in comfort. He stepped back, examined the ship for a long while, then went about checking on the rest of his squad. 

Hunter was cold. 

Perhaps that was what woke up him up-- or it was the blinding pain in his side and the numbness in his arm. Both weren't exactly nice things to experience after a relatively unkind night in the woods. In any case, he was awake, even if he wished to go back to the world of distant darkness. At least there, he couldn't feel the instant, intrusive pain that flared each time he moved. He peeled his eyes open, squinting against the sliver of light that managed to find its way past the mound of dirt at the window of the Marauder and into his face. 

He looked around the room, momentarily absorbing the familiar sight of the cockpit; he had never been so happy to see it before. He rolled onto his side, flinching when it throbbed, still impossibly sore. He groaned, gently pressing his hand against the offending injury. He sucked in a breath, intent on stuffing down the feelings of agony. It was then when he heard heavy, purposeful foot steps against metal, and then he was met with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and a booming voice in his ear. 

"Sarge! I'm so glad you're awake! It's been hours, I...a-are you alright?" Wrecker knelt down to one knee, hand still placed comfortingly on his shoulder. 

Hunter grimaced, clenching his teeth against another sound of pain. "I- I'm fine. Just a little -ah- sore is all." Wrecker regarded him carefully, not ignorant to the way he clutched his side in hurt. "Hold on, I'll go get Echo. Tech went off with Omega to look for some sort of town or something, but I'll call 'em back in." He stood up, putting his helmet on to access the communication device inside. 

Hunter was hardly paying attention, fixated on the ache that seemed to increase in strength each minute, but otherwise seemed localized to his arm and abdomen. He squeezed his eyes shut, face scrunched in pain. Distantly, he heard metallic footsteps against metal, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Echo kneeled before him, focused and assuring in presence. Echo, having noticed that Hunter was up and aware, gave a soft smile. "Glad to see you're ok." He undid the bandages across his torso, and began to remove the gauze from the stitched together skin. "You know, Wrecker saved your life- all this is his handiwork. Honestly, I think he should take up the mantle of team medic. Tech has zero bedside manner, and it's..." He drifted off, face melting into something like confusion. He had been examining the wound, expecting to see red, irritated skin and clotted blood, but instead he was met with a barely tangible scratch. The stitches had come loose, and were stuck to the cotton of the gauze. It looked like he had been grazed by something sharp, sure, but nothing that warranted stitches. It was practically an everyday, average abrasion, not even life threatening or pain causing. 

"...What the..?" He muttered, amber eyes shining with genuine bewilderment. 

Hesitantly, he addressed the wound with new, clean bandaging, and moved on to his arm. The only thing that greeted him was a couple of nicks and bruises which traced the outline of a bite mark. There was no raw flesh nor angry, irritated gouges, only small, superficial scratches. Frankly, he was almost freaked out. 

 "How bad is it?" He heard Hunter murmur, staring off into some far corner of the ship.

Echo shook his head, eying the bandage over the bite. "Uh, Hunter, your wounds are almost completely hea-"

The sound of knocking at the door made him flinch, and he gestured for Wrecker, who had been lingering nearby, to open it up for their returning squad mates. He looked back to Hunter, an eyebrow raised in wonder. Hunter looked as if he was feeling better, his jaw no longer clenched in pain. Of course, he still had an aura of unwellness surrounding him- as seen with the appearance of sweat, and the chills that raised his skin- and he winced occasionally, but he otherwise seemed to have calmed down.  

He wanted to ask him about the wound on his arm and abdomen, but he ultimately decided to wait for Tech. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion.  Hunter, having noticed that he was being stared at, looked at Echo expectantly, awaiting an answer or prognosis on his condition. The cyborg made a characteristic humming noise, then backed away from Hunter, signaling that he was free to do as he pleased, although his eyes flickered with speculation. 

      Hunter eyed Echo with curiosity. What had gotten him so wary, and almost nervous? Were the injuries he sustained really that critical? He just felt a little sore, how bad could they have been? 

"Echo? What were you saying-" 

“Hunter, you’re ok!”

Omega ran in, by his side in mere seconds. She was going in for a massive hug, but was stopped by Echo’s gentle hand. She halted, her eyes finding the multitude of bandages that were wrapped around his arm, and stomach. Her brown eyes flickered to his face, and for the first time she noticed the sheen of sweat and the pale color that had found itself on his tan skin. He looked impossibly tired, and his brow was still taunt with the lingering remnants of pain. Her relieved smile faded, and she suddenly looked at him with visible, raw concern. Hunter gave her a forced smile, trying to make himself look less like a mess, and reassure the young child, but it ended up looking more like a wary grimace. He wanted to give her a hug, but the wound at his side protested each time he shifted, making movement a daunting task. 

“Hey, kid.” He said, cradling the ache at his abdomen. “I’m glad you made it out alright.” He said, relief etched into his face. He gently messed up her hair, making the blonde curls furl furiously. She giggled, but her amusement was short-lived. She looked at him with such worry, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He noticed the way her lip quavered, and her breathing quickened. Then, she sobbed, the force of the motion racking her small frame. Hunter was immediately on one knee, kneeled to her level. He ignored the way his injuries screamed, and scooped her up into a hug. She clung to him, crying softly into his neck, the corner she had buried her face in becoming wet with tears. He shushed her, rubbing conforming circles into her back. 

"I-it's ok, Omega. I'm here, see? Just like I promised." He whispered, voice full of hardly kept emotion. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” She croaked, her soft and muffled voice drenched in palpable relief. She sniffled a few times, still heavy in Hunter’s arms. 

“I won't leave you ever again, Omega. I'm so sorry for scaring you.” He assured, continuing with his efforts to comfort the young girl. He gave her a squeeze, and then he let her go, the pain becoming almost completely unbearable. She stood in front of his kneeling form, wiping the tears from her cheeks and sniffing softly. Hunter patted her head, smiled at her, and then tried to stand up to get back into his chair. Unfortunately for him, the pain in his side flared when he moved to stand, and he found the ground tilting upwards and his vision darkening. It was excruciating. He groaned, stumbling forward. He heard Omega call his name, while Wrecker moved to keep him standing upright. He leaned into his grasp, unable to stand. He breathed heavily, trying to regulate the pain back into a tolerable level. He felt himself being lowered down onto the chair, and he grimaced, the ache in his side uncomfortable and annoying. He felt Omega's small hands on his leg, her soft presence grounding him back to reality. He huffed, attempting to control his breathing; sweat had already begun to accumulate far more heavily on his brow, and his hands shook with chills and fever. 

  Tech took this time to squeeze between Echo and Wrecker, prepared and eager to examine the damage done unto his brother. He kneeled next to Hunter, who sat slouched on his chair, and began to assess him. Omega refused to move, watching him with fear and worry, her small hands stationary on his knee guards. Tech took Hunters vitals, frowned at the results, and continued to observe his state. His eyes narrowed suspiciously when he locked onto Hunter's arm, noticing the bandaging. Echo must've noticed, because he stepped froward to speak up. "Wrecker says it looked like something bite him there. Don't know what, but whatever it was it must've been big, and canine in nature." He shrugged, recrossing his arms. Tech nodded thoughtfully, sitting back in his seat patiently. 

“What attacked you?” he inquired, the blunt question causing Omega to whip her head over to him, her eyes wide.

“Wait- what? Something attacked Hunter?” she squeaked, eyes darting between Hunter and Tech in a panicked fashion.

   Hunter didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his other hand rubbing the bandaging over the bite. "Uh, yeah." He muttered, gaze sort of distant, as if recalling a long locked memory that he had squashed down for many reasons.

    He couldn't stop thinking of the animals' eyes, their golden, piercing power made him so...uncomfortable. They held the swirling, horrible hatred for what it had inevitably become; the depth to its thoughts hidden behind a mask of hunger. It had been so frighteningly aware of everything, its intellect far surpassing that of any regular creature. But for some reason, he couldn't help but focus on the moon. It was bright that night, the moon that hung in the dark abyss almost full, but not quite. The land was cast in silver, becoming ethereal in the pale light. It seemed to embrace everything in a casket of fine silk, its illustrious glow permeating through all things that fed underneath its careful gaze. It was so frighteningly captivating, that he had almost forgotten about the wolf. 

 A snap of fingers in front of his eyes shook him back into the face of Tech, who looked at him with concern.

“Hunter? What’s wrong? Are you suffering from brain damage of some sort? A concussion?” Hunter was going to say something about he was the one who most likely had brain damage, but was stopped short by Tech flashing a light into his pupils. He hissed, hypersensitive to the focused beam of impossibly bright light.

“Tech, knock it off already," He gently pushed away his hand which held the flashlight. "My head is fine.. Don’t know if I can say the same for yours, though.” He said, gesturing to the bandage wrapped carefully across his head. Tech only snorted, continuing to shine the flashlight into Hunter's eyes. Eventually, he thought he had gathered enough data and was pleased with his results, shutting off the flashlight and pocketing it into one of the numerous bags lined at his belt. 

“I can assure you, my brain is functioning optimally, considering the circumstances.” He shrugged. “Now,” He straightened, facing Hunter completely.”What caused this?” He said, looking at the crushed arm gauntlet that lay on the floor and the characteristic bite wound on his arm. Hunter looked at it for a minute, and then back at Tech. 

  “There was.. An animal.” He said, trying to find the words to describe its alien appearance and behavior without sounding completely out of it. “It looked like the wolves the regs used to describe whenever they’d go on one of their tangents about legends and myths from other planets.” 

When no one said anything, he continued. “The wolf...It was big, and had these eyes- they looked like they were glowing. On its arms and face, It had these scales, and talons for paws. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen.” He said, his eyes looking far away. ”When I had freed myself from the ship, I felt it stalking me from within the forest. Obviously, it attacked and I fought back, but it was.. Intelligent. It knew exactly where to hit and what to do when faced with someone with a weapon.” He paused, going quiet as his eyes looked deep in thought. "I've never encountered anything like it." He muttered. 

  Tech glanced at him, noticing that he seemed to be thinking about something that was critically bothering him. He raised an eyebrow when Hunter failed to continue, noticing the way he began to rub at the bandage on his arm, almost as if he was in a daze. ”..And?” Tech urged, nudging Hunter to continue. The sergeant shook his head, placing his hand against his temple as if he was suffering through a migraine. He winced, shifting in his seat in discomfort. 

“..Hunter? Are you ok?” Tech inquired, his brow creasing slightly in concern, while placing his hand on Hunter’s shoulder in an attempt to ground him. Echo and Wrecker glanced at each other, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. Omega was anxiously fondling with a loose string on the tooka doll she had recovered from the corner of the ship, her eyes flickering between Hunter’s pained expression, and Tech's obvious concern. 

“Hunter…?” She said, voice soft. She placed her small hand on his knee guard, hoping her touch comforted her ailing brother. 

  Hunter huffed, teeth gritting in barely concealed anguish. His head burned like fire. His mind had drifted to the sight of his arm encased in the wolf's mouth, locked between the rows of dagger-like teeth. Then, he unwillingly hyperfocused on the poison of the moon's light, which plunged him into a state of agony. The hot, white flashes of pain behind his eyes eerily reminiscent of the pale white light of Sorgan’s moon. Each jolt of electricity accompanied by memories of the moon- bright, burning, and ever present in the abyss of night. It was overwhelming his vision, and effortlessly burned into every core of his being. It was all he saw. All he could think of. The moons light, coating him in its vile, cruel essence, transforming him into something he was not. He could imagine the feeling of pinpricks on his skin wherever the moon's light touched, as if it was a corrosive chemical that had been violently introduced to skin. He could feel it. It was right here. Right there. It was in his veins, coursing through him like venom. He- he couldn’t take it. It was rampant and raging, dark in origin. A curse on those infected with its plight. He heard a voice, deep and sinister. It spoke of curses, and darkness. A cruel punishment unleashed into whoever it felt deserved it. It was saying something. Moon. The moon. Teeth. Fangs. Claws, like daggers. Fur like a malicious beast. Eyes, piercing the dark. A hunger. A hunger, only fit for a wolf. Oh, please, please make it stop. It kept going. Louder. Faster. Meaner. Until Tech yelled at him to snap out of it, shaking him vigorously. 

        Hunter was breathing heavily, eyes wild and unfocused. Tech stood over him, panic drawn onto his usual placid features. He was gripping Hunter by the shoulders, clutching him in a death grip. Hunter could only cough, dragging his hands through his hair. He was in trouble. There was something, very, very wrong, with him and the wolf he encountered. Tech’s efforts to bring him back into a state of consciousness had worked, but Hunter could still remember what he had seen in his strange vision. Towards the end, he had been shown glimpses of something vile. Something truly unnatural, and dark. A curse, bestowed onto the undeserving, to be transformed Into those strange wolves- Into monsters. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right . He could see it now, in the eyes of the wolf he had killed earlier that day. It was tortured. In pain. Without control over its actions, only knowing an insatiable urge to maim, and maul in its cursed existence. He could only sit there, attempting to catch his breath as sweat coated his skin.

  Tech let go of his shoulders, kneeling back down to Hunter’s level. “What happened? Are you suffering from some type of sensory overstimulation?” He thought for a minute, eyes almost frantic behind his goggles. “No, no. That can't be right. You haven’t had an episode in years. You must be suffering from an unforeseen head trauma, or your fever has begun to deliver hallucinations, due to the infection you clearly have...Did you encounter any scenarios which may have caused a contusion to your brain matter?” He asked, shining a light once more into Hunter's now opened eyes. He winced, reflectively covering his face with his hand in response to the blinding light.

"I-I don't think- It wasn't.." He trailed off, and attempted to clear his voice. He noticed the slight shake that permeated through his usually stoic tone, and tried his hardest to squash the unease that created it. He took a breath, and steadied himself. “I saw something," He began. "In the eyes of the wolf. It was.. It wasn’t natural. There is something wrong with it. With me.” He growled, grasping onto Tech’s shoulders. Tech flinched, pulling back as if Hunter had hurt him, surprised by his sharp grip.

“..What is it?” Tech asked, eyes narrowed, wary of the frantic look in his sergeant's deep eyes.

    Hunter opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He didn’t really know what to say. How could he attempt to explain something that didn’t even make sense to him?... How could he be sure what he saw wasn't just a hallucination produced by his fever, like Tech had speculated? He thought for a minute. He felt Tech shift underneath his grip, and he remembered to let go of the pilot, having been lost in his thoughts. He muttered a soft apology, and simply let his hands fall. Omega looked up at him, her bright eyes glistening with unspoken worry.

    Wrecker and Echo watched from beyond Tech, both giving each other wary glances. Echo caught Hunter glancing in his direction, and he locked eyes with the sergeant. He noticed the way Hunter seemed to know more than he was letting on, carefully observing his expression and posture. He seemed so.. afraid. Of what, Echo could only speculate. Most likely, it was the animal he encountered in the woods. But what creature was able to strike so much fear into Hunter, who always seemed so fearless in battle? What about the animal scared him so much?  He saw something flash behind Hunter's eyes, and then the sergeant looked away, patting Omega’s head comfortingly.  What was that? Echo raised an eyebrow.  Force, he was acting beyond weird. Finally Echo walked forward, past Tech. 

 “Alright Hunter, what is it?” He said, sitting down at the seat next to him. He grabbed some tools laying around, and began to make some adjustments on his leg. He had almost forgotten it had sustained some damage during the crash. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you so much, just tell us. It’s nothing we can’t handle.. probably.” He said, shrugging the last part lazily, still repairing the joint on his flimsy limb.

Hunter looked up from patting Omega, glancing at Echo warily. He sighed, running a hand over his face tiredly. 

His arm stung.

“It's just.. I saw something just now. It was weird, like a vision of the past.” Echo looked up, while Tech adjusted his glasses, already typing away at his datapad. Wrecker looked on, head tilting to the side in confusion. Omega simply stared, unspeaking and in full listening mode. 

“There was this voice. It kept saying the same thing- something about the moon or fangs or something cryptic like that. It was a chant, like something the Jedi would say while meditating, except this was.. Different.”

His arm stung. He rubbed it. 

“And the wolf I fought.. It didn’t seem right. It had something human about it. And when I smelled it, I detected both human and wolf scents on it. Some physical aspects of the animal were almost human, too. It had hands that looked almost like ours, and then there were its.. Eyes.” he said, visibly disturbed and shaken. “It was in pain. The human. He was suffering.”

His arm burned. He hissed, grasping at his skin. He stared at the spot where the wolf's teeth had sunk into his flesh. He could almost feel them again, easily puncturing through his armor and muscle, remembering the way lightning had shot through him upon feeling the teeth in his arm, as if he had been injected with lava. The discomfort had subsided as quickly as it had begun, and he carefully released his arm from his grip. 

Echo, Tech, Wrecker and Omega all glanced at each other uneasily. They never, ever doubted Hunter's senses, knowing he was never wrong.. but this just seemed truly absurd and outlandish. He was rambling on about a wolf-man...thing, for crying out loud. It sounded like something straight from a story they’d heard from their days on Kamino; pure clone ludicrousness, simply something the regs had made up in their boredom. 

Echo raised an eyebrow, having stopped fiddling with a metallic joint. “Hunter.. that just doesn’t sound possible, and you know it. Maybe the wolf just found someone before you, and that’s the smell you picked up.” He said, offering to rationalize with his team, and more specifically, Hunter. “There’s no way a person can become an animal. That’s just fiction from holovids.” He said, defiantly crossing his arms.

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, turning steely and cold. “I know what I sensed, Echo, and I’m well aware that this sounds utterly impossible and foolish, but I’m telling you that thing wasn't natural.” 

Omega glanced at Echo. “And besides, the force exists; who's to say the wolf man thing can’t be real too?” She interjected,  her eyes darting between Hunter’s tense form and Echo's disbelieving stature nervously in an attempt to mediate an upcoming argument.  

He only shook his head slightly. “C’mon Hunter, think for a minute. There is no way such a thing can happen. The force is different- we’ve all seen it be used by the Jedi, like General Skywalker. But what you’re suggesting implies that this whole time, there’s been wolf people running around and nobody has noticed? The likelihood of the Jedi not intervening or not being aware of such a thing is practically zero.” He said, recrossing his arms. 

Hunter clenched his teeth, and opened his mouth to say something, before Tech intervened. 

“Actually, I’ve been doing research about Hunter’s experience. I think he may be onto something.” He said, glancing slightly at his brothers who returned his glance with raised eyebrows of their own. “Loth wolves have a similar description as to whatever attacked Hunter. The scales, eyes, paws- everything matches up. What’s also incredibly fascinating, is that there are many legends and myths surrounding the species, each sounding incredibly similar to the scenario Hunter described.” He adjusted his glasses. “It says here that many believed that Loth wolves were once used for experimentation involved with the dark side of the force, and certain encounters detail patients subjected to these experiments undertaking gruesome transformations into wolf-like beasts. Sith alchemy is brought up multiple times, but the rest of the reports elaborating on the topic are vague, and a majority have been wiped from the library in general.” He said, desperately swiping around on his data pad for more information, brow creased in frustration. He didn’t exactly enjoy the fact that important, and otherwise unknown knowledge was being purposely kept away from his hungry mind.  “However,” He continued, “these documents are ancient, and Loth wolves have long been thought to be extinct, making Hunter’s encounter especially speculative.” He tilted his head to the side, as if disappointed with this new information. 

   Echo almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. instead he sighed, and sat up from the chair. With his leg newly fixed, he began to walk around the room, and having noticed that the light from the window had lessened significantly, he decided to be productive and prepare for a night on Sorgan. “We’ll discuss this later. It’s getting late, and I’m going to make a fire- it gets pretty cold without the sun out here.” 

  Omega looked back at Hunter, offering a small smile and a comforting hug at his leg. Echo continued to waltz towards the doorway, gesturing for Wrecker to open it for him. The tallest obliged, and effortlessly removed the metal from its frame, allowing him to slip through easily. Omega, dislodging from her gentle embrace, offered to come with him, eager to learn about survival skills and fire-making. The cyborg smiled, and allowed her to take his hand as he led her out of the hull. 

  Tech had barely looked up, still engrossed in his search for missing archives and data, curious as to why such information was kept so hidden and confidential in the first place, suspicion rising in his mind.

   Wrecker remained quiet, but did eye Hunter with something like sympathy or even hesitation. He seemed to be observing him, watching the way his eyes flickered and burned with something foreign in his usual stoic, deep brown-gray eyes. Wrecker would never admit it, but that new feral energy scared him. 

"Hunter..." He began, but was cut off before he could continue.

"What?" He snarled, rubbing his arm. His brother flinched, taken aback by the aggression in his voice. Hunter paused, eyes widening for a second with realization. He hadn't meant to say it like that- at all. 

“I-I’m sorry for snapping at you. I- I don’t know where that came from.”

Wrecker nodded, taking a step forward. "It's alright, sarge. I think you're just stressed is all."

Hunter shook his head, looking downcast and solemn in his chair. “I feel like I’m sick- sick with something awful. I just don’t feel right.” He said, the pounding in his head growing stronger. 

Wrecker kneeled next to him, concern ridden all over his features. “Sarge, I’ll be honest, you haven’t looked too good since this morning… I think you should get some rest.” Wrecker looked at him with such raw, genuine concern, allowing his worry to crease his normally enthusiastic smile and gentle eyes. “I mean,” he continued, nervously scratching the back of his neck with his hand, “You've been through a lot today, and if you're, uh, sick, you should be getting some sleep.” He was scared. Hunter could see it now. Wrecker never, ever got this stern about anything. Ever. It was practically an unheard of experience. But here he was, the most outgoing and battle-ready clone in the squadron, visibly afraid, and very, very serious. 

Tech had approached, still tapping around on his datapad.

“As much as it pains me to say it, Wrecker is very correct.” He said, glancing at his larger brother in exasperation upon seeing the wide grin displaying itself on his proud face. He could only sign in response. Typical.

He looked back at Hunter. “I will run more tests in the morning, however, your current frame of mind is cause for...concern. I think it best that you sleep, and tomorrow I shall formulate a medical plan. Tell me if you feel anything change.. and I mean anything . I do not want to examine you later and find a hidden ailment, am I clear?” He narrowed his eyes behind his yellow tinted goggles, reinforcing the seriousness of his words. 

Hunter nodded once, it was slight and minimal, but it got the point across and apparently was an answer that satisfied Tech, who stood up. “I will do more research on these Loth wolves, while I expect you to rest for the remainder of the evening and into the night. If your condition changes, it would be wise to inform me.. less I simply find out on my own.” He said, shrugging, and retreating to his pilot seat while scrolling through his data pad. Hunter had turned to address Wrecker, but he could still feel Tech's eyes on him. He was worried. While he never expressed it as openly as his other brothers did, perhaps always striving to achieve optimal logical analysis, he did worry often. A lot, actually. Hunter could feel the way his heart rate and breathing had increased upon his realization that his brother's condition was already deteriorating, and he had no idea on why or how to stop it. He knew Tech hated it. He hated being useless. If he wasn’t fixing what was broken, what was the point? Sit there and regurgitate needless information? Fixing, and rebuilding, was practically what he was born and bred for. If he couldn’t achieve his design goals, then was he even worth all the effort to keep around? 

  Hunter knew his brothers deepest feelings of impromptu nightmares of worthlessness, they all had similar doubts and reconciliations, but it was during times like this that he wanted to say something. Say how he was fine. He wasn’t, but it was something. It could alleviate some feeling of dread that they couldn’t seem to shake. But even then, it would be a lie, because the more time went on, the more Hunter felt increasingly ill. Not just a fever and nausea Ill, but genuinely in pain . It was subtle, at first. He had chalked it up to lingering body pains from his earlier encounter with the brutal crash, and his fight to the death with the feral animal, but the more he was kept awake, the more it became relevant. A throb here, an ache there, and then suddenly they turned into stabbing pains everywhere, to an uncomfortable “burning, prickling pains in my skin” type of feeling. Now, as he sat, the feelings lingered. He didn’t know what to do or think. Maybe it was a side effect of the infection? He knew that wasn’t it. Maybe he was encountering sensory overload. It seemed likely, at first. Feeling intense sensations that even invoked pain when faced with materials or even the atmosphere around him could cause his senses to flare with hypersensitivity, however, this almost seemed like something else entirely.

But he was tired, and he wanted to check on Omega and Echo before he made himself sleep. He decided to ignore it for now, and pushed the uncomfortable sensations to the back of his consciousness.

So, he asked Wrecker to help him up to his feet, quoting that he “wanted to make sure that all was secured outside”. His brother had only smiled in response, nodding along with his flimsy justification. He knew the real reason why Hunter wanted out, and that was only to make sure his kid was doing fine. Wrecker knew Hunter probably wouldn’t have slept without knowing how Omega was doing anyway, so he didn’t protest to the simple request.

Wrecker lifted Hunter gently from his seat, and waited a minute for him to gather his bearings and steady his questionable balance. He allowed Hunter to lean on him heavily, and tried not to flinch from the unnatural warmth that radiated from him. He could feel it even through his armor, and was genuinely concerned that this amount of heat could cook his organs or something like that. 

Wrecker had commented about something being hot, but Hunter hadn’t exactly been paying attention. Instead, he had been focusing on the sharp pain that pierced between his skull and eye. The pain was so shocking and unexpected, that he had almost jolted back from the sudden punch to his temple. It came quickly, without warning, and then quickly fizzled out, the pain near excruciating and then degrading to nothing at all. He had hissed quietly to himself when the headache had randomly appeared, but lucky for him, Wrecker had not noticed or had failed to comment on his discomfort. 

Ow. 

He decided to ignore that, too. It was definitely just his body facing repercussions from the fight with the wolf, yes, that was it, and he would have to deal with it, like he always dealt with unexpected issues and lingering pains. 

But kriff, it had hurt .

    He shifted on his feet, signaling to Wrecker that he was ready to go onwards and get out of the cockpits' limited space. His brother's strong arms were steady and supporting, lifting his weight with ease, and never letting Hunter’s numerous tired stumbles interrupt the journey. By the time they had maneuvered to the “door”, Hunter had found his balance again, and had pushed himself off and out of Wreckers' careful grip. His older brother didn’t do much, he simply watched to make sure he didn't fall over and eat durasteel, his reflexes on standby in the case of an unexpected balancing issue. 

   After watching Hunter for a couple more seconds, just to be sure he was fine, he moved to remove the metal from the door frame, allowing the light of the setting sun to flood the cockpit. Tech shifted uncomfortably, muttering something in annoyance and covering his goggles with his hand halfheartedly. He was going to join the others soon anyway, but he was still annoyed about getting flashed by the sun. Rude. 

    Wrecker seemed relatively unbothered by the setting sun's brilliance, while Hunter carefully evaded his eyes to compensate for the sudden blinding light, eager not to upset his hypersensitive vision. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he looked back up, unfazed by the golden beams. The sun's light danced upon the clouds, painting them wonderful shades of orange and purple as the sky became a darker shade of blue in response to the disappearing star. All in all, it was very beautiful for an outer rim planet. 

  Hunter spotted Omega and Echo sitting almost directly outside of the entrance to the cockpit, each offering up small sticks to a pile in the middle. Omega was wearing a helmet, and Hunter soon realized with a start that it was his helmet she wore. He smiled. It was genuine, soft and full of love. He chuckled slightly, seeing her constantly having to keep it from falling off from her small head whenever she bothered to look down. 

Honestly, he had almost forgotten about it, having believed that it had sunk with the rest of the ship in the lagoon, never to be seen again. He was relieved, not wanting to part ways with something that still reminded him of better days and nostalgic memories of his fleeting childhood. Not to mention, it was expensive, and rather risky, to get a new helmet made these days. 

He came closer, and sat himself on a conveniently placed log facing the pit of sticks and branches. Omega hadn’t seen him yet, her field of vision too obscured by the ill-fitting helmet that wobbled unsteadily as she moved. He smirked, amused by the amount of attention she was giving to placing sticks in a pile. He would have to let her know to be more alert during miscellaneous activities, but for now it was refreshing to see her live life without the need to glance over her shoulder every minute. She deserved the simple pleasures and peace of childhood, as all children did, even if hers' was a little different than the rest of the kids’ in the galaxy. 

Echo hadn’t paid much mind to Hunter or Wrecker, instead prioritizing setting up a decent outdoors camp that could sustain them during their time in such a place. Also, he didn’t exactly want to be confined to such a limited space not unlike that of the cockpit- especially not when the air conditioning went completely offline during their ceremonious hurtle through the atmosphere. The air would get stale fast, expedited by Wreckers presence, and Echo was not looking forward to that. So, he had opted to create a camp outside to provide more comfort for his squad and himself.  Call it what you will- self preservation, foresight, desperation. Whatever. He was going to make a decent camp, and nothing was going to stop him. 

  He was not going to sleep stuffed next to his brothers who hadn’t showered in force knows how long. No. No way. 

 (Oftentimes he wondered how Hunter hadn’t passed out from the smell that came along with their lack of cleanliness, but he guessed he must’ve gotten used to it rather quickly. He didn’t know, and frankly didn’t want to ask how he evolved such a resistance to the smell of.. grim? Old blood? Sweat? He didn't exactly know for sure what the origin of the stank was, and he didn’t want to find out.)

Omega still hadn’t noticed Hunter's presence. She was delicately placing stick after stick at the very top of the pile, trying to balance the twigs on top of each other as if she was forming a misshapen statue. She was so careful and meticulous about the mundane process, that he couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He reached out to pat her head, feeling the paint and plastoid of his helmet underneath his black gloves. She jumped, squeaked, and accidentally knocked a stick from its place at the top of the pile. She quickly lifted the helmet up and off her head, as if she was trying to get away with a crime. She gave him a chary smile, and gave him a meek, shaky wave of her hand. He smiled, and roughed up her hair. 

“I don’t think it fits quite yet.” He chuckled, giving her a small, fond grin. 

She put her arms out, offering the helmet to him-  An embarrassed blush tinted her cheeks. 

“You just have a fat head!” She smirked, still red with embarrassment at being caught in the act of parading around in her da- Hunter's helmet. 

Hunter smirked, taking the helmet from her hands and placing it on the floor next to his log. 

“If you think my head is fat, you should see Wrecker’s . You can fit a whole planet in his helmet, I’m sure of it.” He glanced at Wrecker, who gave them a look of betrayal. 

“Hey! Tech is the one with the “big brain” and “brilliant mind”! Wouldn’t he have the giant head?” He pouted, crossing his arms in mock hurt. 

Tech emerged from the ship, still scrolling through his data pad.

“False. I have proven it many times before that you are the only one here with the morbidly oversized cranium, not me.” He said, his normally nonchalant tone laced with a playful chagrin. 

Tech moved to sit at the log across from Hunter and the pile of sticks in the middle, while Wrecker made himself comfortable on the grass in the middle of Tech and Hunter. 

Echo didn’t sit, but instead laid out a bed of soft materials. Once the crude mattress was deemed sleep worthy, he plopped himself on top and closed his eyes, firmly attempting to enjoy the last of the setting sun's light. It barely filtered through the trees now, instead squeezing through the leaves and emerging on the other side as small slivers of gold. 

He sighed, content with feeling the last of the warm light on his face, albeit disappointed that the sun was setting so quickly. 

        Wrecker noticed the pile of sticks in the middle, and moved to light it. Omega moved over to watch near Hunter, and she leaned on his leg as she sat on the grass. She watched in awe as her brother produced fire so easily, and she knew she would have to ask him how to do it one day. Hopefully, they’d let her try it on her own.

They sat there for a while, each enjoying each other’s company while engaged in differing activities. Echo continued to lay on his “mattress”, as if he was trying to sleep, while Tech tapped away on his datapad. Wrecker and Omega had forged a crude version of dejarik, and were attempting to play it without the efficiency of holograms. Hunter had been elected score-keeper, and so was obligated to observe their.. intense gameplay that consisted of weirdly shaped twigs and malformed rocks or tree nuts. Interesting.

  Despite the relative primitiveness of the game, Omega and Wrecker were both invested. Apparently, it was extremely competitive- as if you’d be stripped of honor if you were to lose to your opponent. Both of the clones were focused, fixated on beating each other in combat. Honestly, Hunter would have been impressed by their composure and stalwart attitudes had they been in any other situation, but for a game of dejarik-one using rocks in place of a k’lor’slug , no less- it was rather painful to watch. 

Wrecker huffed, groaning in defeat.    

Hunter sighed. 

 He added a win to omegas scoreboard. 2 to 5. He was amazed Wrecker hadn’t gotten tired of losing yet, and groaned inwardly when he saw him go on to reset his pieces, eager for a rematch. Omega also seemed to be itching for another round as well, perhaps wanting to beat her previous record... or she was simply enjoying a game with her brother. Whose to say?

It was during this time that the sun had dipped completely beyond the horizon of trees. The sky was an ever darkening shade of blue; it’s dark hue allowed the stars to filter through the atmosphere, their light not unwelcome in the dusk sky. 

 It was also during this time that Hunter had begun to feel…off. 

   Somewhere in the middle of the game, his body pains had disappeared, but now that night had fallen he was disappointed to realize they had creeped back into his bones, and were becoming increasingly noticeable. 

 It had started as a dull throb on his arm- the one with the bite wound. It was annoying, sure, but never got past the mildly painful range. Until now, of course. It had begun to burn. The more he noticed the uncomfortable sensation, the more it began to spread, and eventually It inched up from his arm to his neck, and then from there it migrated everywhere. It was beyond insufferable. 

He sat there, trying his best to look unfazed by the growing feeling of unease and uncomfortableness of the situation. To make matters worse, the faint pain he had felt earlier had returned, this time growing in severity. His body was throbbing, more severe and poignant than before. It was almost as if he had been racked with fever for days- Which he didn’t exactly rule out- He had gotten an infection, and he had been bitten by a possibly ill wolf…dog...thing..? Who's to say he hadn’t gotten some type of illness from its filthy maw? That, added with the already substantial plague in his abdomen, had to count for something, right? 

Ten minutes later, he was overcome with a general feeling of malaise. He was sweating, pale, and shivering. He tried to make the nausea dissipate, but his stomach wouldn’t stop doing flips while his head throbbed. But through his sickness, he couldn’t help but notice the moon, just appearing over the trees. Its silver gleam coated the land in a fine sheen of white. He felt it. It was overwhelming. 

   Somewhere in between his ill tidings, Tech had seemed to notice that something wasn’t quite right with his brother. Perhaps it was the shallow, ragged breaths, or the disheveled look that shadowed over his features, but it was obvious that all was not well. Nobody else had seemed to notice, with Echo engrossed with his staring at the fire, and the other two squad members dedicated to a passionate game of rock and nut warfare. Or maybe it was dejarik. Or maybe even both? He couldn’t be sure, having zoned into his research during their squabbling. 

He ignored the other members, instead closing the distance between him and the ailing form of Hunter. 

Who, by the way, looked absolutely pitiful. 

He had buried his face into his hands, curling inwards into himself in discomfort. He was trying his best to steady his breathing and ignore the strange feelings underneath his skin, but he was visibly struggling and failing to relieve the pain. 

  Tech kneeled down, his face level with Hunter's own. He gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, noticing how he flinched by the sudden touch, which was odd for someone with Hunter's senses. Had he been so overwhelmed with pain that he hadn’t even sensed Tech approaching? 

That was…worrisome, to say the least. 

“Hunter? Are you alright?” It was a stupid question. Obviously, he wasn’t, but he wanted to get his brother's attention for the most part, perhaps allow him to focus on a familiar voice. 

   Having heard Tech’s concerned inquiry, the other squad mates diverted their attention to that of their sergeant. Echo sat up, ready to help in any way he could if he was asked to. Omega looked on, her face scrunching in palpable anxiety.  

“Tech? What’s wrong with him? Is he alright?” She said, fearful to know what was going on. 

Tech opened his mouth to respond to her when he felt Hunter shrug off his hand from his shoulder. He glanced at his face, noticing that his hands had removed themselves from concealing his features. 

Instead, he held them out in front of him. He was staring at them, his breathing quickening the more he stared at his quivering palms. 

Tech couldn’t see his face, the darkness of the night and the dingy light of the fire created deep, stark shadows on his familiar characteristics, so he had no idea what he was feeling. But,  judging from his current breathing pattern, something had deeply unsettled him. 

“What’s the issue? Is your stab wound flaring up?” Tech tried to ask, but by the way his brother was fixated on his hands, his other wound wasn’t the source of the problem. 

Hunter finally looked up, his features taunt with pain. He brought his hands up for Tech to see, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat, eyes wide behind the lenses of his goggles. 

“I-I think I'm sick, Tech.” He heard Hunter groan, his voice strained in agony. 

His hands were changing, conforming into long claws that effortlessly tore through the fabric of his gloves. The claws were sharp, and pointed, and unmistakably, startlingly,  not human.

Chapter Text

Hunter groaned, doubling over as agony blossomed from deep within his core. Oh kriff, It felt like death. Was he dying? Was that it? Had that stupid beast really messed him up that badly? By the force, it was like a vine, creeping and slithering, burning into his muscles, skin, and bone with its white, hot miasma.  It traveled further and further, plaguing his entire being; dousing him in fire.

Tech spoke up first, fear riddling his normally complacent expression. "Hunter, we must get to the ship; I- I don’t know what’s going on, but we can’t stay out here.” He urged, suddenly very quiet and very urgent.  

Tech attempted to lift him from his seated position and relocate him into what was left of the Marauder, but Hunter failed to stand and instead fell forward into the soft grass, defeated. He curled into himself pathetically, his breath fast and ragged.

He groaned, curling deeper into himself as the fire beneath his skin pulsed and flared throughout his body, constantly leaving him shaken and disorientated. He clawed at the earth beneath his shifting hands, unable to see past the white spots that danced in his vision.  It was unbearable, indescribable waves of agony, shocking and blinding, like a hell he couldn't escape.

 His skin felt like it was being pricked by dozens upon dozens of needles, each emerging from deep within his body, raising themselves from his core. He hadn’t even been able to notice the growing layer of fur on his hands that accompanied the painful sensations, too distracted by...well, everything else that hurt. 

   He laid there, curled inward on himself in a shaking, pathetic heap on the floor. He could just barely feel Omega's presence by his side, her small, unsure hands hovering just over his blacks.      

    She didn’t know what to do. She’d never seen anything like this, having only treated patients who were in relative comfort in the facility on Kamino. Was he dying? Was she going to watch her brother die? No, No. She refused to let that happen. She needed him. 

She steeled herself, and tried to remember everything Nala Se had taught her about medicine. Sure, she had just been an assistant, but she had picked up some additional skills throughout her studies, especially with Nala Se's constant pushing to further her medical knowledge. Omega narrowed her eyes, scanning his trembling, moaning form,  with sharp, searching eyes, looking for something that could tell her what was happening to him. From what she could see, he looked relatively uninjured, save for the thin layer of bandages on his arm and abdomen. But they weren't bleeding through, and Echo had already taken a look and confirmed he'd be fine. So what was doing this to him? An internal threat? Perhaps the wound in his side had more internal damage than they previously thought... Her train of thought trailed off, and her eyes caught on something.

She froze.

His hands.

What was wrong with his hands ? 

Dark fur partially coated his skin, increasing in length by the second. Long, gruesome claws scratched at the dirt beneath them, leaving ragged, deep trenches in the soft dirt.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she unconsciously muttered Hunter's name. It was soft, quiet, but so full of fear and panic, that even he could hear it from over his pain. He glanced up at her, and she flinched. Her eyes were wide, taunt with shock and unshed, wet tears.

She had expected to see his dark, warm brown eyes to meet her own, but in their place she saw only the viscous, glowing yellow eyes of a beast.

    She felt strong arms lift her up and cradle her, in an attempt to carry her away from the situation, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his pained, yellow irises. She saw how he tried to say something, anything in an attempt to comfort her, but was interrupted by another bout of groaning and screaming, once again digging his claws into the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face into the crook of Wreckers neck. She could hear his screams. His ragged yells that tore themselves from his throat.

She covered her ears. 

Hunter couldn’t feel anything other than agony. 

It was so invasive. So overwhelming. Force, he could hardly think or breathe. Everything was too shrouded in the ugly, burning veil of spasming muscles and snapping joints to a point where that's all he could focus on. Hell, why was it all so loud? 

He gasped, feeling his teeth and gums snap and burn. He groaned, painfully aware of their changes in shape. His teeth grew long and sharp, unfitted for a human mouth, and he subconsciously found himself running his tongue over his canines, horrified and disgusted by their animalistic design. 

Hunter tensed, face scrunching up as fire burned in his limbs. Force no, please no let it end. He screamed, agony palpable in his hoarse throat. The bones in his legs snapped and popped, remaking themselves into something foreign. He felt his boots tear open, exposing the clawed paws that now scratched at the dirt beneath his form. The armor that covered his shin and thigh broke away, and his black leggings were torn at the knee, blatantly exposing the monstrous contortion of his formally human limbs.

Beads of sweat dotted his skin, exhaustion and fatigue making itself known across his shaking, beastly form. Kriff, this was awful. He'd destroyed a part of his armor, part of his blacks, and everything was going completely wrong and horrible and oh force make it stop. 

Were his brothers freaking out? He couldn't tell. Everything was jumbling together, going to fast and too slow all at once. He thought they probably were. Tech was probably trying to analyze the situation, find a solution or something. Echo was most likely trying to help in anyway. Wrecker...must've been afraid. No, scratch all that, they were all probably afraid- and he was, too.  

And oh no, he didn’t even want to think about Omega. She must be horrified. He was there, writhing and screaming, and she had to watch?  She’s just a kid. She shouldn’t- she shouldn’t have to see this. 

He stifled another groan, and attempted to bite back another painful episode. He panted, clutching his hair in his weird, clawed hands. He needed to get out of here, or at least try to get Omega out of this situation. 

He winced. The pain was rising again.

He blinked away the blurry haze in his eyes, hardly being able to make out Wreckers form, who gently carried Omega in his arms. She had curled into a ball, pressed against him in an attempt at shielding herself from the horrors of the night. 

Hunter automatically felt terrible. She was trembling, her face hidden away from him. 

He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the sight. 

He groaned. Pain. Rising. 

He swallowed down the hurt in his throat, and struggled to even open his mouth. The teeth were too big. Too uncomfortable. 

“W-Wrecker-“

He barely even registered it as him speaking. Was that a growl he heard, just beneath the rasp of his voice? 

His brother took a step closer, signaling to his sergeant that he had heard him. 

“G-get ‘mega out of h-here.” His face hurt. “Please-“ his command was cut short by a barely stifled yell. He cupped his face in his hands, ignoring the way his fingers felt foreign against his skin. Oh force, It was back. 

Wrecker had nodded, even if he knew Hunter hadn't seen it, and raced to the marauder. He effortlessly removed the door from its place, and set Omega gently on Hunter's usual seat, giving her a worried glance. She was looking out the door frame, having a direct view of Hunters writhing form outside the ship before her brother placed the door between her and the outside world.

Hunter groaned, feeling his face shift and reform beneath the palms of his now scaled fingertips. His ears elongated, becoming tall and pointed. Through the chaotic changes occurring on his face, he had barely noticed the large, wolf-like tail that had appeared, swishing behind him like a weary shadow. 

He choked out a strangled yell, deep and pained- the feeling in his body.. It was excruciating. This fire, fueled by some ancient hatred, it was going to kill him at this point.

He felt his face grow and sharpen, agony melting it into something like the muzzle of a dog. His screams distorted, becoming something like a growl or animalistic roar, deep and feral in the silence of the night. He flinched at the beastly, untamed and inhuman sound. 

Oh, force, he was turning into a monster. 

He groaned- or more like whined- digging his hind claws into the soft earth,  uncomfortable by the way his face itched with the appearance of scales, and the way his legs didn’t seem to function like they used to. Like how a human should. 

Fur had spread across his body, thickening along his back, while the scales on his snout and legs finally made themselves apparent. The new appendage that swished behind him was the least of his concerns as he laid there, panting in exhaustion. The pain in his body was ebbing away, slowly leaving its host like an unwelcome guest. 

His breath was heavy, ragged and loud as he laid on the soft grass, energy fading and adrenaline disappearing with the departure of agony.  

And in his exhaustion, he came to a realization. 

It was over.

Finally, it was over. 

He would've been happy. He should've been happy. 

But instead of happiness, he just felt...Hungry. 

Oh, kriff, he was starving.

He was insatiable.

Hunger was the last thing he felt before he slipped into darkness, and he closed his eyes. 

Tech didn’t know what to do. 

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have a solution, nor an elaborate explanation. How could he?

What was once his brother, was now a giant.. wolf.. creature… laying in a heap on the grass. The fire of the camp glistened off of the dark brown fur, illuminating every fiber and drenching the shadows in a deep, black ether.

The wolf, his brother, laid unmoving, turned away from him to where he couldn't really see its eyes, just the long snout. It was actually... unsettling.

But, by the way it seemed to be breathing, it was physically taxed. The transformation into its new form seemed to sap a substantial amount of energy from it, and it must've needed to rest and recharge. 

He paused, face scrunching in realization of what he'd done.

It. Tech bashed himself inwardly. Obviously, this was Hunter, not some "it", not some foul beast from Moraband or something. This was his brother, not some animal. 

Well… technically speaking, at least. Because right now, he looked pretty animalistic. 

He stared at Hunter's unmoving form, trying to calculate his next move. He faintly realized Echo was still there, who had come up to stand next to him. He too, was fixated on his brother, however he exuded more of a wariness than Tech did. 

Tech cleared his throat. Nothing was going to get done just gawking at him. 

“I’m going to check on him.” 

“...What?!” 

It took Echo a bit to respond, but when he did, he did not sound amused.

“You heard me." He scoffed, typing something into his datapad before pocketing it at his belt. "Whatever has just occurred has significantly altered Hunter's physical state, and he needs an evaluation." He paused, sending a pointed glare at Echo before continuing. "I will not leave him like this.” He stepped forward, but was stopped by a rigid hand at his shoulder. 

“Tech, wait. I want to help him too, but what if he’s dangerous? He may not be mentally...him...right now. Just...wait for a little bit longer.” He advised, amber eyes reflecting the light of the fire.

Tech whirled on the cyborg, eyes narrowed and indignant. “The same could have been said about you when we rescued you from your confinement in the separatists' prison, but did that stop us? No!” 

Echo blinked. “Tech, just stop and think for a minute, this is something that’s just...”he trailed off for a second, staring off into the beast on the ground. He refocused, shaking his head and creasing his brow, looking back into Tech’s fiery gaze with one of his own. ”I mean, look at him for crying out loud! This isn’t some average science experiment you can just poke and prod-“ 

He stopped, the words hitching in his throat. He was looking at something from behind Tech, who turned around to see what was the matter. 

Hunter was up. Standing there. Looking at them. Saliva dripped from his jaws, a wild look in his yellow eyes. 

The two clones and wolf stood there for a moment, each taking the other in with their eyes, sizing each other up for the fight that threatened to bloom between them. 

 Tech and Echo were rigid, caught off guard by just how animalistic and terrifying Hunter truly looked. He was big even on his all fours, and his dark, long fur danced in the moonlit wind. Still, both of the clones noticed how his hands were still so...human, and they couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the sight. It was worth mentioning, however, that his gaze was filled with something hungry. Something predatory, and it made them both shift wearily. When nobody moved to escape, Echo slowly pushed himself forward, putting himself between his brother and the wolf. He noticed the way he looked at them, void of any familiarity. He wasn't aware of what he was doing, and Echo was not going to let Hunter hurt his own brothers- he knew he would never forgive himself. 

He glared at the yellow eyes of his brother, feeling the way his hair prickled with something like unease. Yes, unease, that was all. No, not fear. Brothers weren’t supposed to fear each other. Of course it wasn’t- couldn’t, be fear. That was an absurd connotation. And yet, the more he stared at those cold, impossibly hungry eyes, he knew that sinking, shivering feeling that settled in his gut was definitely not just unease. 

      The air was still. The night was impossibly quiet, and all he could hear was his heartbeat drumming in his ears, loud and thready with anticipation. What should he do?...What could he do? Hunter was a monster. Large, feral, and obviously failing to register that his brothers before him were friends, not food. If his brother was in control of himself, he would’ve been able to resist that insatiable look in his eyes, but instead, all he saw was the stare of a predator faced with its prey. 

It was during this still moment that Echo began to slowly go for his blaster holstered on his hip. He moved slowly. Still. Calculated and meticulous in his careful movement. He could feel Techs’ eyes burn into the back of his head, daring him to brandish his pistol, but he couldn’t worry about that now. This was life or death, dammit. He wouldn’t stand by and let his brothers die, because he didn’t have what it took to make the hard decision. Tech obviously couldn’t do it. Wrecker and Omega? Not in a million years. 

His fingers hovered over the grip of his blaster, brushing against its sharp, metallic texture. 

“Don’t.” He heard Tech hiss darkly, desperation creeping into his voice. 

He curled his fingers around his weapon, his finger searching for the trigger and eventually finding its small shape. Hunter seemed to get more agitated the more he moved, muscles bunching and flexing in anticipation; his eyes flickered between the two clones and the blaster fretfully, as if he couldn’t decide what to do next. 

Echo pulled up the blaster from out of its holster at its hip, freeing it from its hold. It was comfortably heavy in his hand, yet he couldn’t still the tremor that had seemed to make itself at home in his fist. He pondered the metal pistol in his hand for a moments. He gazed over each nook, cranny, and scar in its frame, looking at it with a newfound realization in his amber eyes.

The stun option. 

Duh. Why didn’t he think of it sooner?

But...Would it work on something so large? So arcane? 

He flicked it into its non-lethal state, and he visibly felt Tech dissolve into barely suppressed relief. 

“Hopefully this works.” He whispered, knowing Tech was listening. 

“I don’t see why not; he’s not a Zillo beast, Echo.” 

The cyborg rolled his eyes.

“Well, he’s not exactly a normal thing either.”

He saw Tech adjust his goggles on his peripheral. “It will be adequate. Most creatures cannot resist such a shock, and last time I checked, Hunter was as susceptible to it as anything else was.” 

Echo brought up his arm, aiming the blaster at the animal. It didn’t move- just seemed to stand there, poised for action. It had locked eyes with him, and he felt a shiver snake itself down his skin.

Kriff, those eyes.

They didn’t just look at him, they almost seemed to look through him, effortlessly peering through beneath his barriers- as if it knew every uncertainty and doubtful premonition in his mind. 

A terrible feeling, it was. 

He blinked rapidly, attempting to divert his eyes away from those invasive yellow orbs. 

That was a mistake.

 As soon as his eyes closed, if only for that fraction of a second, the wolf was bounding towards the two brothers. Echo shot off his blaster, but Hunter was frighteningly nimble on his tall, lanky limbs, which jumped to the side to avoid the blast. 

He was impossibly fast, and before Echo could register what was happening, the world was tilting, and the earth greeted the back of his head unkindly. He groaned, having been pushed with such force that he was almost sure his cybernetic head piece had cracked or something. But before he could recover from his stupor, he was stunned to feel something pull and tug at his leg.

 He froze, lifting his head to see what had had him locked in a death grip. 

He saw his leg, in the mouth of the wolf. It snarled and growled, feral and wild, shaking and pulling at the metallic limb with fervor. 

He would have laughed, seeing this animal go ham on his leg, but at the moment he was terrified. He heard wires snap and strain with tension, coupled with a metallic groan of collapsing metal. Canine teeth sunk into his shin, a resounding crunch emanating from the prosthetic. 

For once, he was glad most of his limbs were robotic. 

He squirmed, desperate to escape from the toothed, fanged maw, curled around his leg. He heard the teeth sink deeper into the metal, desperate to keep him there, and heard an ominous, bone-rattling rumble in response to his constant squirming.

 Was that...D- Did Hunter just growl at him? 

The audacity!

He brought up his other leg, and kicked his brother square in his black, wet nose. 

Hunter winced, and he felt the grip on his leg loosen. 

He saw his moment, and struggled against his grip. Honestly, he had actually thought he would be able to get free, until the teeth around his leg tightened, and he froze. Hunter moved his head side to side, and he could practically feel the metal failing.

"H-Hunter, STOP!" He cried, gritting his teeth against the vigorous mauling which jostled his body violently.

He really, really, didn't want to loose his legs again. 

Hunter froze for a moment, something swirling deep within his eyes for a fleeting, small moment, and Echo almost believed that his desperate cry had woken Hunter, the real Hunter, up. Instead, the beasts' gaze hardened once more, and Hunter pulled. 

A tearing noise.

Wires and bolts. 

And suddenly, the weight of his prosthetic leg on his left side was no more. 

Aw, shit.

 He saw the animal with his limb in its mouth, its lips curled up in satisfaction; It towered over him, no sense of recognition in its horrible eyes.

Distantly, he watched it fling his limp, dismembered leg towards someone to the side of him, who yelped and fell the ground, stunned. He turned his head, seeing Tech on the floor, Echo’s leg abandoned on the grass next to him. 

His brother rubbed his head in pain, grimacing where the cybernetic limb had made contact.

Was that blood?

Hunter had begun to stalk over towards where Tech lay, who froze in response to the approaching beast. Echo shook himself out of his dazed shock, and pulled himself up. He rolled onto his elbow and remaining knee, shuffling forward to reach the blaster that had been thrown from his grip. It lay in the grass, the light of the fire glistening off its metallic sheen. 

He heard Tech shout something frantic into his comlink, but his own mind failed to register if it was directed toward him or not. The only thing on his mind was Blaster- get the blaster. It was right there. His fingers almost curled around its handle, but before he could get a grip, he was pulled back. He scratched at the dirt, gouging out patches of grass in desperation. But the thing that had his other leg was far stronger than his feeble, one-handed grip, and he watched helplessly as the distance between his DC-17 and him grew in length; the hope of neutralizing Hunter was waning. 

He yelled and squirmed, doing anything in his power to break free.

Oh, Kriff, he was scared.

He was scared of his brother.

He torn into the metal of his leg, once again proceeding to maul and destroy, that wild look in his eyes uncontrolled and frenzied.

Echo almost laughed; Hunter was having fun.

He gritted his teeth. Nothing was working. At this rate, he wasn’t going to have any legs left after Hunter was done with them, and he didn’t want to think about what he would do without the prosthetics in his way. 

But before Echo could do anymore to free himself, Tech had materialized at the fire. At some point in time, he must have recovered from the blow to his head and found Echo’s blaster, and he currently had it in his hand while blood streamed from his forehead and dripped down his face and chin, staining his ivory armor crimson. 

His breath was heavy and strained, and he looked a little disheveled, but his eyes were narrowed in focus as he brought up the DC-17 and aimed. 

Hunter locked eyes with his brother, flinching in surprise at the sight of the blaster in his gloved, slightly bloodied hand, as if he hadn’t expected him to draw arms against him, or had forgotten that Tech was actually there. In any case, he growled harshly, making Echo’s whole body rumble with the deep magnitude of the primitive sound. 

 Tech squeezed the trigger, eyes conflicted with pain, panic, and fear for his squad mates. He didn’t want to hurt them- any of them- but Hunter was going to kill Echo if he didn’t do something. He’d apologize for stunning him later, right? Right. 

The stun bolt hit its mark, and Hunter dropped the mangled leg immediately. This allowed Echo to back pedal away frantically, his back making contact with Tech’s legs in a panic. 

The wolf shook, yelping in surprise; its body jumping from the shock and hair raising with electricity. 

He swayed slightly, but he didn’t fall.

He didn’t fall.

Why wasn’t he going down?

Oh, force. 

The wolf shook its head, clearing the uncomfortable tingling from his body. 

He turned up his head to stare at the two offending clones, the light of the fire clouding his features, melding them into something harrowing.

And in that golden light draped in shadow, it was still horrifically evident that he looked pissed.  

Before, he had looked at them as a meal, but now?

Now, it was personal.

A grotesque, animalistic roar tore itself from his snarled maw, and he peeled his lips back to display his impossibly large fangs. 

“Kriff.” Tech exhaled beneath his breath. 

Hunter charged, snarling, growling, frothing in beastly savagery, claws thumping and scratching at the dirt beneath his paws, kicking up dust in his ferocity. 

Tech shot off the pistol a multitude of times, but the wolf never slowed, never faltered. He had hatred in his luminous golden eyes, and it was fueling him forward. That, or the stun bolts really had as little an effect as Echo had originally feared. Both options were not really in their favor anyway. 

Tech blinked, and the wolf was leaping, aimed towards the brothers. The moon was brilliant behind his form, caressing his brown fur in its silver lining, like a gentle, angelic touch. Tech would have commentated on how Hunter always had a knack for dramatic flare, but he couldn't take his mind away from the fact he was most likely going to die. Considering how long Hunter's teeth were, and his long claws, it probably wouldn't be a pleasant experience at all. He would most likely go for the throat, as a way to shut him up. Would he choke on his own blood? Drown in it? He braced himself, clenching his jaw and eyes shut in expectation. But before those ivory fangs could curl around his neck, he heard the clang of metal against soft fur, and a resounding thump as the two objects went sliding into the grass. 

What?

Tech peeled his eyes open, half expecting his head to be detached from his body. An unreasonable fear, he heard himself chide, and yet one he couldn’t help but imagine. He looked around, separating himself from his terror for just a moment. Hunter was on the ground a few steps away, the metal door of the Marauder abandoned in the grass next to him. He struggled to get up, his shoulders bunching and flexing in exertion, his frame imbalanced due to the sheer force of the collision. 

Tech turned to look at the source of the thrown sheet of metal, and found Wrecker standing at the entrance to what was left of the marauder. His eyes were wide, disbelief staining his features. He stood in shock, his eyes hesitating at the sight of that thing, struggling to get up. His eyes flickered from its form in the grass to that of Tech, who stood so close to the fire that his heels touched the rocks that lined the circle of flame, while Echo pressed himself to his brother's legs in reassurance. Tech was also looking at Wrecker, relief radiating from his features in waves- and blood, caressing the arches and curves of his face, dripping down onto his light armor in startling, gory contrast. 

"Ah, I see you got my message." He choked out, trying to catch his breath.

“Tech! What the kriff  happened to Hunter, and are you guys ok?” Wrecker was running now, reaching his brothers’ in seconds. He eyed Tech carefully, and was startled to notice that the lens of his yellow-tinted goggles had fractured, leaving an ugly scar in its formally pristine glass. 

However, the cracked goggles were the least of his concerns as he took notice of the blood gushing from an angry laceration at the crown of his forehead, just above the frame of his eyewear. It wouldn't help Tech's concussion from the crash, either. 

“Sheesh,” he muttered, ”that’s gonna leave a huge scar.” 

Tech's relieved smile folded unto an unamused frown.

Wrecker leaned over to check on Echo, who sat awkwardly on the grass looking up at the two brothers expectantly.

"Can I get some help down here? My leg is kriffed up and I'm missing the other one."

"What the- How'd he get your leg? Echo? Are you alright?" Wrecker knelt, assessing the damage.

Echo sighed. 

“Sarge decided it would be fun to chew it off and use it as a weapon. Hence Tech’s new scar, and my lack of two feet.”

“Are you..ok?” 

Echo thought for a moment, eyes growing distant and glazed. Being dragged around against your will and being inches away from becoming your feral brother's snack wasn’t exactly pleasant.  

“Fine. But Tech’s gonna need to help me put my leg back together.” He murmured, flicking at a loose wire pitifully. 

“Yes, yes, whatever you need, but later, Echo." Tech interjected, warily glancing back at the wolf in the grass. "For now, I think it would be beneficial if we focused on Hunter and our current situation.” He grunted, turning around to view his wolfish brother. 

The sergeant huffed, legs shaky and unbalanced. He growled softly, rubbing his brow with the back of his hand tiredly, pulling away to see a small bit of blood laced on his fur. He snorted, glaring up to look at the one who had dealt such a blow. His eyes narrowed in on the hulking form of Wrecker, who shifted uneasily at the sight of the luminous, amber eyes. 

“I, uh, I think Hunter’s mad I hit him with a door.” Wrecker whispered, putting his helmet back on nervously. 

“Well, obviously. ” Tech muttered, matter-of-factly. “Wrecker,” he turned to his brother, gently wiping off the blood that tickled his chin. ”Can you keep him occupied while I get Echo back into the ship before things get worse?” He gave a look at the wolf, carefully eying his movements to ensure he didn't do anything rash. 

Wrecker signed heavily, flexing his shoulders. He ignored the way one of them popped and rolled in discomfort.

“Yeah, I got him. Get outta here."

Chapter Text

    Wrecker glanced forward towards Hunter, who shakily rose to his four legs. He growled and barked sharply, with teeth bared and hair along his back raised and spiked upwards. He took a step forward, stumbled slightly, but remained standing up right, however slightly unbalanced.

Wrecker watched carefully, eyes narrowing from behind the protection of his helmet. The collision with the metal must have really shook him up. He felt a pang within his chest, a feeling of guilt weighing heavily on him- he didn't want to hurt him, but what choice was he giving him?

“Alright, sarge.” He muttered, resuming a defensive stance. “Your move.” 

Hunter glared up at his brother, golden eyes luminous and reflective of the moon and campfire light.

Wrecker felt himself shift uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze; His eyes were...uncanny.

Hunter growled, and surged forward, strong arms and legs propelling him forward toward his quarry. Wrecker dug his heels into the soft dirt, hoping it would anchor him enough to make a stand against the raging beast. Hunter lunged, but he was ready for him. He brought up his hands, and before his brother could repel away, he seized onto the fur of his neck. Immediately, Hunter began to thrash wildly against the iron hold, jaws snapping and snarling in a panicked frenzy. 

Geez, he's strong, He thought, struggling against the erratic, frantic jerking of an animal caught in a trap.

Wrecker huffed, and shifted his stance. He began to put all his weight and strength into bringing Hunter to the ground, where he planned to pin him down long enough for his brothers to tie him or something. Honestly, he hadn’t really planned ahead that far, but subduing him should be enough for the time being. Hopefully, it would make him calm down, but deep inside he knew that idea was far-fetched, at best. 

As Wrecker pushed down on Hunter, he began to feel the wolf begin to push back. He hacked and coughed against the hands on his neck, but he retaliated by digging his own claws into the dirt and refusing to bow down. Wrecker shifted his hold, nails digging into fur and flesh, struggling against the seemingly immovable force. 

He glanced up into Hunter’s amber eyes, and flinched to see them staring back at him with such intensity, with such a will to win, that his grip almost faltered. 

However, the wolf began to budge.

Hunter fought back, desperate to get loose, desperate to remain standing, but weakening against the sheer, full strength of his brother. Wrecker was grimacing now, teeth gnashing together as he fought for the upper hand. He hadn’t felt something as strong as him in a long time, save for that adolescent rancor they had saved a couple months ago. Even then, he hadn’t really been in a life or death situation, and hadn’t felt the need to use the full capacity of his brawn.

And as much as Wrecker liked a challenging, worthy foe equal in strength, he really, really, couldn’t afford to lose this battle.

Hunter’s eyes were flickering around, as if looking for a way out. He growled and barked at Wrecker, ears pin backed in a display of aggression. He didn’t want to go down; he couldn’t afford to. If he went down, then the predator could kill him. He’d become prey. He would be inferior- weak, and something within him told him weakness was intolerable. Weakness was death. There was no room for weakness in a perfect creation of the Sith.

A clawed hand reached itself up, and, clutching onto Wrecker’s gauntlets, began to squeeze. He had hardly noticed, until a crushing weight made itself apparent on his forearm. Then, it manifested on his other arm. Eyes widening, he realized Hunter had managed to seize both of his forearms in his barbed, monstrous hands.

His long, clawed fingers dug into the plastoid, tearing through the armor almost seamlessly, and in one startling moment, Hunter was the one bearing down on Wrecker, who struggled to push back against the growing strength. 

Oh, shit.

Kriff, it hurts . He’s going to crush my kriffing arms, He thought, eyes bolting back and forth between the bared teeth of a snarling, frothing Hunter, and his deathly sharp grip on the crumbling gauntlets. 

The wolf readjusted its stance, hind legs finding purchase in the earthy soil. 

Wrecker was tall. He always had been- something to do with his enhanced mutation, obviously. He’d been used to towering above everyone else, sort of like a Wampa amongst Tauntauns, always having some creature underfoot and staring up at him. It had been a source of intimidation during his cadet days on Kamino with a younger bad batch, who were constantly bullied, oftentimes violently. Lucky for them, the Reg’s didn’t have the desire to face Wrecker, who towered over the rest of the kids since day one. It was something he’d always kind of enjoyed- it made him feel like a guardian, a protector.

He was the tallest- supposed to be the tallest.

So why was Hunter the one who was suddenly casting a baleful, malevolent shadow over him?

Hunter had risen to his hind legs, and Wrecker, probably for the first time in his life, felt so…small. For one, Hunter had already been fairly large when he was on all fours, probably tall enough to be face to face with Echo...but now…? 

He honestly didn’t want to think about it. Besides, it’s not like it mattered right now anyway.

Wrecker was in a state of near panic. This beast was overwhelming him in power, and that prospect alone was absolutely terrifying. 

Arms shaking in effort, and breath coming in heated puffs, he tried to fight back against the tall, overwhelmingly dark form of Hunter, but he could tell his strength was waning. His muscles were taunt and burning, tired and overused. This short clash of power had somehow left him absolutely exhausted. 

Hunter bore down on to him, teeth glinting with the radiant light of the fire and the silver sheen of the moon above. His eyes shone brilliantly, reflective of the glow of light on his pupils. It was a haunting sight, like something out of a medication induced nightmare, inescapable and surely unending.

Wrecker groaned, folding under the power of this beast before him. He was going to lose this game of brawn. Squinting, he tried to formulate a plan, preferably one that allowed him to escape alive and without being brutally mauled. Should he run? No, he doubted he could out run the wolf. Besides, he hated running away from a fight. That was for regs. He thought for a moment, before an idea manifested itself within his mind.

He smirked. He liked this one. 

Wrecker released Hunter's neck, causing the wolf to take a subtle, deep, wheezy breath in. Something like confusion whispered behind its eyes, as if wondering why he had let go of an area that provided him with such an advantage. But before he could react, Wrecker swung his fist out, decking him right across the nose. Hunter immediately let go, scrunching his eyes shut and letting out a stifled yelp. He instinctively let go of his gauntlets, alarmed and panicked by the sudden and bold attack. Hunter didn’t even have the chance to strike back when Wrecker struck him again, and again, and again, in a mad flurry of fists and unleashed savagery. 

Wrecker didn’t let up. It was one unpulled punch after the other, each coming in hard, fast and sharp. The wolf was forced back, unable to recover from the unending and brutal onslaught.

It was a frenzy of claws, fists, teeth and kicks, tumbling through the grass in a savage, unrelenting, desperate fight. Jaws snapped, bloodied fists pulled back to deliver another blow, claws grasped onto the side of armor, and horrifying, surprisingly loud growls and grunts resounded in the quiet night air. 

Wrecker drew back his arm, reading himself for another bone-crushing swing of his fist, but the wolf’s eyes narrowed as he did so. The beast had noticed something about the way he had moved back his arm, as if his shoulder was stiff or ached. It was a subtle sound, almost like a pop, but Hunter heard it. He heard it, that sound of weakness, and it made his mouth water. 

Before Wrecker could react, Hunter flung his hands forward, grasping the sides of his arm in a steely grasp, and he began to pull, putting all his weight into the action. There was an ominous popping, snapping sound, and Wrecker’s vision darkened. 

He cried out against his will as the sudden, blinding, white hot fire flooded through his shoulder, leaving him as a groaning heap on the floor. 

Hunter had dislocated his arm, leaving it hanging at an odd angle, limp and dragging against the floor. His armor tugged at his throbbing shoulder, as if it was willing it back into place, but remaining unsuccessful in its endeavor. It was kriffing annoying. 

Hunter approached, head bowed low, and drool stemming from his parted jaws. Wrecker moved to stand, but the wolf was faster. He pressed one clawed hand down onto his shoulder, feeling the bulging joint from beneath the armor, and pressed. 

He screamed, white spots dotting his blurry vision. 

“H-Hunter, kriffing g-get off!” He sputtered, using his other hand in a desperate, frenzied attempt to pry off the claws that shrunk into the plastoid of his shoulder plate. Hunter ignored his plea, eyes distant and far away in a world of insatiable hunger. 

The pain in his shoulder was beginning to be too much. He began to feel lightheaded, his vision swimming and blurring nauseatingly. Darkness inched across his sight, but he willed himself to push it away, and remember the fact that his brother was trying to eat him. His body, however, didn’t want to cooperate. 

Distantly, he noticed how his vision had become obscured by the gaping, toothed maw of a monster. He could see the rows upon rows of teeth, and he almost thought he was having some sort of nightmare, because there was no way his brother had really turned into this thing that was fixing to rip his face off. His good hand continued to scratch and pull at the claws, but they sunk deeper into plastoid and descended into flesh. Kriff, he was gonna pass out. He could feel it, the pain was making his body freak out or something, and his vision was too dark, much too dark. 

He couldn't see anymore, his eyes snapped shut, but he could still hear the growling.

“Tech, what’s happening out there? Where’s Wrecker and Hunter?”

The bespectacled man glanced at Omega, eyes softening slightly as he took note of the way she seemed to be shaking. She was afraid, that was obvious, and he didn’t really want to frighten her more with “oh, Hunter turned into a beast that's ready to maim and maul everything in his path, I don’t recommend going outside”. That would be irresponsible of him, and Hunter probably wouldn’t appreciate it had he a say in the matter.

“There has been an unforeseen complication, however I am sure Wrecker will handle it accordingly.” He muttered, refocusing on stitching up the deep cut on his temple. It stung. He winced. 

Omega went quiet, and she glanced at the open doorway. Something wasn’t right. 

Echo was watching the place where the door should be, pistol drawn in vigilance. He had lost sight of his dueling brother’s, but he still heard the sounds of a scuffle to the right of the ship. He was still on the floor, legs mangled, but he was trying his hardest to remain stoic and ready in defending the last of the marauder, especially considering Omega was inside. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. 

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand tiredly, when he froze. 

A sound pierced the cool night air, and his blood ran cold. 

Wrecker had screamed.

The sound of the earlier scuffle had stopped, replaced with a thick, and heavy silence.

 He shifted, nudging Tech’s leg with his scomp arm repeatedly, but his brother was already standing up straight and looking out into the darkness, jaw clenched and hands already reaching for the blasters at his hip. 

“Stay here.” He ordered, gripping his twin guns. 

“I’m going with you.” 

It was Omega, who looked up at him expectantly, with tiny fists balled at her side. 

His brow creased, and his frown sharpened into a thin, strict line.

“Negative. You must stay with Echo.” He stopped, then continued with “That is an order.” 

It felt weird on his tongue. 

He turned back around, stepping forward to the doorway. However, he hadn’t been prepared for Omega, who made a mad dash for the outside. 

“Omega! No!”

He lunged forward, attempting to drag her back in, but the fast, sudden movement caused a sharp, cruel headache to stab its way into his skull. He was suddenly violently dizzy, and he had to lean against the wall of the ship to avoid falling forward. He pressed a hand against his head, and he winced. The world was flipping and spinning, and he carefully slunk down onto the floor. Echo was by his side in seconds, crawling across the ground as fast as he could. 

“Hey, Hey, Tech! Look at me, focus. What’s wrong?”

Tech grimaced, and choked out a small, breathless, “It’s j-just a byproduct of my concussion. I-it will p-pass.”

The cyborg furrowed his brow, and an intense look returned to his eyes. 

“I know you're hurting right now, but Omega is out there. She’s out there with Hunter, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get to her in time. Do you think you can walk?” 

Tech was about to nod his head, but froze. “Y-yes, I will retrieve her.”

He ignored the way his hands shook as he struggled to rise to his feet.

 Hunter was going to need to buy them all a few drinks after this.

Omega had bolted for the door, and she hadn’t looked back, not even when she realized she wasn’t being pursued. Something was wrong with Hunter, and she wouldn’t stand around and wait for whatever it was to get fixed by her brothers. She could help, right?

Right? 

She flew past the crackling, violent fire, but froze at the edge of the warm lights. It was quiet out, and surprisingly so. 

She scanned the darkness, but it was almost too dark to see anything if the moon hadn’t been full; even then, it wasn’t really a comforting type of light. All it managed to do was make her rather uncomfortable and nervous. She shivered. 

Her eyes kept searching amongst the dark, looking for anyone or anything that could tell her where her brothers had gone, but it was too dark, and too quiet. 

She gulped. Should she call out? Would she get an answer?

“Wrecker! Hunter! Where are you guys?” She cried out into the stillness of midnight, hands cupped around her mouth. 

“Are you guys ok?”

She paused, waiting for an answer.

Nothing. 

She shifted nervously. 

She took a few steps backwards, to the side, and eventually forwards. For some reason, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving the light of the fire. But as she stepped further from the light, she noticed something. 

There was a mass in the dark, tall and imposing, paired with two twin, small lights that stared ahead. 

That stared at her.

She narrowed her eyes, struggling to make out its form in the poorly lit far corners of the clearing. Whatever it was, it was furred, and stood poised over another mass on the ground.

A mass that almost looked like…

Her eyes widened. 

‘Wrecker!!” 

She bolted towards the unconscious shape of her brother, tears pricking at her eyes as she struggled to blink them away. 

She was a few feet away when the animal took a slow, careful step over Wrecker, and towards her, crouched low to the ground and quietly growling. 

She flinched, almost tripping on her own two feet as she came to a sudden halt, arms flinging out in front of her in a desperate effort to save herself from falling forward.

It approached her slowly, methodically, as if it had all the time in the world to confront her. She backed up carefully, eyes flickering between the glowing orbs that faced her, and the disturbingly still form of Wrecker that the creature had left behind. 

She mentally took note that Wrecker was there, but where was Hunter? Hadn’t he been out here? Where could he have gone? Did this animal… eat him? She felt her eyes sting, and the warm, wet sensation of slow, weary tears gliding down her cheeks. Maybe this thing was alerted by his presence. Maybe it sensed he was injured from the crash and he was screaming and-

Her eyes froze on Wrecker, who, to her tremendous relief, began to stir. The animal was still slowly pursuing her, drool leaking from its parted jaws, but she was glad it hadn’t noticed her brother rising. 

She was also glad he wasn’t dead. 

But where was Hunter? 

Last time she had seen him, he looked absolutely terrible. He had been screaming, and writhing, and his hands were weird, and his eyes, force , his eyes had become so… monstrous. Their sea of fiery yellow had made her skin crawl. They were unforgettable.

She dwelled on this for a minute, face scrunching up in thought. 

His… eyes.

She turned her sight back to the prowling creature, and her eyes widened. 

Oh.

His eyes. 

Oh, no.

Before she realized it, she was in the dingy light of the fire. The beast kept its slow pursuit, and gingerly it stepped into the light, dark brown fur now illuminated by the warm radiance behind her. She choked out a sob, hands instinctively covering her mouth as she cried. It was him, and undoubtedly so. It was Hunter. She recognized those awful golden eyes, torn black pants, and that dark hair color within moments. She didn’t even want to look at what had become of him anymore. The hands were the worst part, they looked too nightmarish, like they didn’t belong on his body, misshapen with long, black nails that gouged the earth beneath them, a far cry from the surprisingly gentle, caring hands she had been used to. 

Her breath came as fast, unsteady puffs as she locked eyes with him. She saw no recognition behind the yellow irises, only a cruel, apathetic lust for blood.

He didn’t know her.

He didn’t know her.

And maybe that hurt the most.

The tears came faster, and she struggled to suck in a breath. The night was quiet, the only sounds beneath the moon were her own violent, wet sobs, and the unsettlingly calm breathing of the wolf. 

She opened her mouth to speak, scream, do something , but she only managed to produce a pathetic, scared squeak. He was a few inches away now, close enough to where his breath ruffled her hair. She was frozen, and unmoving, tears streaming down her face endlessly as her body was racked with harsh, mournful sobs. She couldn’t even pry her eyes away from his own, too transfixed by their foreign, haunting gleam. 

She didn’t even move when he opened his mouth, displaying his teeth like macabre trophies. She should’ve moved, cried out, pushed and fought, but she did none of those things. Why couldn’t she do something? Why wasn’t her body responding? Why did she feel so hurt? So betrayed? So scared? He was going to eat her, so why didn’t she run? Her legs wanted to move, she felt the uncontrollable urge to flee, but something wasn’t registering. Her body was in a war with itself, and she couldn’t do anything about it but weep and mourn. 

She hardly registered the blur at the corner of her vision before the wolf snapped its jaws closed, and in a quick, feral movement, jerked its head back as if to address an incoming threat. It growled, a deep sound that rumbled within her chest, before it lunged out at its attacker, leaving Omega as a frozen, sniffling shape by the fire. 

It was a frenzy of action. Hunter and a wounded, tired Wrecker, who had desperately risen up from his place on the floor. He had only needed a moment to see Omega, inches away from being devoured, for him to muster up some unforeseen, buried reserve of pure, primal rage. He would never let Hunter hurt her, even if it meant kriffing up his arm a bit more to stop it. 

He grasped at Hunter’s neck, feeling the thick fur and flesh between his hand, and squeezed. The wolf bucked and yowled, jaws reaching back in a desperate attempt to shake the man off his back. Hunter fell to the ground, rolling across the grass in a panicked maneuver to dislodge Wrecker, who hung on with a surprising amount of balance. 

Omega watched on, horror riddling her features as the sight. Finally, she felt her body return to her, and she stepped forward slightly toward her brothers as if she was going to help. But before she could begin to do anything, she heard the gruff call of Tech, who shambled over towards her in such a worried, terrified way she had never seen before. His eyes were wide behind his goggles, and brow furrowed in stress. Kneeling down to her level, he grasped her shoulders.

“Omega! What were you thinking? He could have killed you! ” 

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? I told you to wait in the ship - why didn’t you wait in the ship?” He yelled, fear crossing his features. 

Tech paused for a minute, something unknown passing across his brown eyes. Omega was breathing quickly, eyes darting over to the chaos happening between Hunter and Wrecker and the fretful, concerned eyes of her present brother. She was hardly listening to him; she was absolutely terrified. 

He sighed softly. She didn’t need this right now. 

His grip around her shoulders loosened, and he gingerly let her go. Instead, he slowly, warily, reached up with his gloved hands and cupped her face gently. The action was so foreign and strange to him– comfort was usually Hunter’s job. 

The gentle touch shook Omega out of her shock, and she locked eyes with Tech, who swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn’t very good at reassurance.

He carefully opened his mouth to speak.

“...Omega, are you alright? Did he hurt you?” He paused for a minute, waiting for a response. Omega simply shook her head no, sniffling slightly. 

He nodded his head thoughtfully in response, but regretted it when the pain in his temple spiked. He ignored it.

“Ok. I’m-I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was afraid something had happened– obviously, Hunter isn’t… He isn’t doing so well right now, and I didn’t want him to harm you.” 

“...He didn’t recognize me.” 

He froze. 

“Why didn’t he recognize me, Tech?” Her voice was too small, too sad. 

It broke his heart. 

Carefully, he brought Omega to his chest, and embraced her. She cried into his armor, her small body racked with devastated, hurt sobs. He kneeled there, rubbing comforting circles on her back as she cried. 

When the fight a few feet away began to pick up again, Tech was forced to let her go. She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffling pitifully as she stared off into the floor. 

“It will be alright, I assure you. We will be alright.”

Omega simply nodded, plucking at a loose fiber on her sleeve.

He needed to get her out of here.

Moving to stand, Tech gathered his blasters from the grass, and holstered them at his belt. He stared off into the fight, making sure that Wrecker still had somewhat of an upper hand, before he began to speak. 

“...I am relieved that no bodily harm came to you, lest that would have been rather unfortunate. Wrecker should be able to-”

He felt small hands putting pressure on the cut at his forehead, and he almost flinched. 

“The stitches came loose. You’re bleeding…” 

He noticed the warm sensation of blood trailing down his cheek, and he gingerly lifted a finger to wipe some off.
“Ah. I see.” He muttered, struggling to stand up. Omega released her hold of him, and she stood there staring up at him, as if waiting for him to say or do something. His vision became blurry, the air around him spun, and he promptly flopped back into the grass. Omega was by his side in seconds, as if she expected something like this to happen. 

“I think you have a concussion, Tech…” She murmured, looking for any needle and thread in the multiple pockets at his tool belt. 

“Mhm, yes, I have come to the same conclusion as well.” He mumbled, gazing up at the stars. The stars that swirled nauseatingly. 

Ugh, he might throw up. 

He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her semi-frantic search. 

“I’ll be fine, however I advise that you return to the ship. Echo will take care of things.” He said, patting her arm softly. “I just need a moment to regain my bearings.”

She regarded him for a moment, face scrunching up in dissatisfaction. 

“I can’t just leave you here! What if, um,” She fumbled with a blade of grass, seemingly conflicted with what she was trying to say, before she continued. “...What if Hunter gets you? I think Wrecker is hurt, Tech. I don’t know how much longer he can hold him off, h-he needs help.” She blinked away tears, staring him in the eye. 

Tech was about to say something, when Wrecker grunted loudly, falling to his knees whilst struggling to fend off the snapping jaws of Hunter with one hand. Easily, the beast overpowered the feeble, waning grip of his prey, and had pinned him to the ground, once again pressing a pawed hand down on the dislocated joint at his shoulder. Wrecker groaned, chest heaving in exhaustion and pain. 

Tech’s eyes widened, and immediately he shot up, hands automatically going to the blasters at his belt. But before he could even get a step forward, the sky darkened, and he fell forward pathetically. The world was spinning, going too fast, even as his eyes closed. He breathed out a pained gasp, fighting with his body to get up. He struggled to get his arms out beneath him, feeling as if he was in the ocean, swaying and unbalanced by the crashing of waves upon a ship. He could see his brother, struggling in a desperate fight against the monstrous form of Hunter, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get a grip on anything. Not the dirt beneath him, nor the blaster that had fallen from his hand a few inches away. Force, he was suddenly, so, so tired. A deep fog settled in his brain, and he couldn't seem to wade through it. 

Distantly, he felt his fingers curl around the hilt of his gun, and his heart jumped. There! 

He lifted his face, and squinting through the headache, fog, and swirling forest around him, he aimed. His hand shook, and the world spun, but he aimed anyway. Would he hit his target? What if he hit Wrecker instead? Or Omega? Shit, what if he ended up killing someone? 

He didn’t have time to think anything through. Hunter had his mouth opened wide, and was inches away from tearing out Wrecker’s throat. If he didn’t do anything, his brother would be killed for certain, and he couldn't exactly let that happen. 

He squeezed the trigger, and the blaster shot echoed off into the night. 

Hunter yelped, and leapt off the pallid form of Wrecker. The wolf looked around, ears pressed against his head in a panicked, alert expression. 

His eyes narrowed in on Tech, who lay on the ground in a defeated heap. Tech glared back tiredly, unable to get up, and unable to focus on what was before him.

Hunter surged forward, but this time with a noticeable limp in his right arm. He had been shot, and he refused to let such a transgression go unpunished. 

Tech fumbled with the gun, frantically glancing up at Hunter who ran towards him, but the tremors in his hand coupled with that deep mist in his brain was like a wall, making every simple, mundane task utterly impossible to complete. 

His breath quickened, and he glanced back up, gauging his time, but it was too late. He could just barely see the dark, shadowy form of Hunter, inches away from his hand and glaring down at him. His lips peeled back, and he snarled, flashing his long, dagger-like teeth to his quarry as a display of dominance. He practically screamed “I’m better than you in every way, now die”, and Tech wanted to roll his eyes. He was always so dramatic. 

Hunter lunged forward, but not before Omega materialized between the wolf and Tech, who sucked in a breath in horror.

Omega was going to die, because of him. 

Oh, no.

“Omega, move!” He choked out, the sound splitting his head with a colossal headache. He groaned, instinctively clutching his skull in his hand. He wished the throbbing would stop for one minute.

His eyes widened at the sight before him. He had fully expected to see the wolf with his jaws around her throat, crushing her windpipe as she gargled blood, but to his immense relief and shock, the macabre, grim expectation had not come to fruition. Instead, Omega was unharmed. Scared, but untouched. And then there was Hunter, frozen, staring at her with wide, disorientated, orange eyes.

Omega had braced for something to happen. She stood rigid and still, with her arms tucked at her sides and hands balled into tight fists, but to her relative disbelief, nothing happened. There was no giant wound gushing blood, or violent, animalistic mauling. Just the soft breath of Hunter, who stared at her critically. 

For a wolf, he was fairly expressive. 

She warily turned her head to him, and when nothing happened, her body began to relax. He looked… confused. Conflicted. Something within him had reawakened, even if it was for a brief, shallow moment. 

She looked him in the eyes, searching for a sign of his true self. The real Hunter. The one that would never even attempt to hurt her. Was this him she saw before her? Stunned and confused, and suddenly very nervous? …Afraid?

“...Hunter?” She whispered hesitantly, hand slowly rising up to greet the side of his snout. 

“Are you there?” 

His ears were pinned back against his head, and he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. His eyes flickered around his environment, lingering on the battered forms of his brothers. Something passed across his eyes, and he stumbled backwards, grasping at his head. Rising on to his two legs, he growled and whined, trying to shake away the aching throb. It was all too much, too overwhelming. Everything was going against who he was. He was supposed to eat. He was starving. So why? Why did he suddenly feel…remorse? Pain? Anguish? Why did the creature in front of him seem so familiar? Why did he have the undying, overwhelming urge to protect her from himself?

Hunter glanced down at the girl, who seemed to be trying to tell him something.

He could hear the words, understand their meaning. She wanted him to calm down, stay with her, and focus on her. But he couldn’t. It was…against his nature? She was confusing him, making everything muddled and scary. Looking at her and the other creatures around him made him hurt; they were dangerous- she was dangerous. 

He dropped down onto four limbs, and in a fearful, panicked state, made a desperate dash into the woods, ignoring the pain in his arm as he raced away. He distantly heard the blond creature call out to him, telling him to wait, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He had picked up a new scent, and that bloodlust within him returned with a vengeance. 

And then, just like that, he was gone.

He melted into the shadows of the wilderness, leaving behind the shocked form of Omega and Tech, who’s eyes never left that spot in the trees. After a thick, heavy moment of silence, Tech opened his mouth to speak.

“...We have to go after him.” Omega flinched, hearing the strain in his voice to her side. 

“We have to find him before something worse happens.” He breathed out, something dire beneath his breathlessness.

Omega froze, and she glanced down at Tech, who had managed to rise to a kneeling position in the grass.

“Tech, do people live here? On this planet?”

He was quiet for a minute, wiping off the stale blood on his forehead that had accumulated. 

“...Yes, and I fear that their place of habitation may be his next destination.” 

Chapter Text

The night was dark, and pleasantly cool. The trees swayed like lonely phantasms in the chilly air, their fragile leaves and branches brushing against each other solemnly, producing a quiet, ambient song. The stars twinkled brilliantly, but their light was nothing compared to the large, ominous, full shape of the moon, which hung low in the sky, like some ancient deity's watchful eye. 

Quietly, carefully, Edaara pressed her foot against the leaf littered forest floor, careful not to make a sound that would alarm anyone to her presence. Shram waited for her just ahead, an annoyed look plastered onto his face. Apparently, she was moving too slowly for his liking, but the last thing she wanted was her village noticing they went out into the woods at night. 

She was nervously checking over her shoulder, continuously glancing back at the dim light of her hut, which got further and further away as she trudged deeper into the underbrush. Maybe this wasn't their best plan. Maybe she should just turn back, and they could find something else to do. 

“Shram, I don't think this is a good idea, you know how the elders feel about us going into the woods at night. It’s not safe-“

Her companion signed dramatically, and aggressively grabbed her hand, jolting her forward. She had to stumble around on the leaves in order to prevent herself from toppling forward. She glared at him, face scrunching up in disgruntled annoyance. 

“Quit being such a suck up.” Shram scoffed, glancing over his shoulder as he raced into the trees, Edaara’s hand in his own. He didn’t seem to care about her blatant dissatisfaction with his rough handling. “You won’t get in trouble if we’re caught, you’ll be fine. Besides, It’s not like there’s anything dangerous on Sorgan.” He added, shrugging his shoulders slightly. 

“But there is! The creature-“

“Have you ever even seen it?” He smirked, glancing over his shoulder at her with a sly, snotty look plastered on his face.

She took a breath, ready to defend the authenticity of the cautionary tale, before she paused to consider it.

 Force, he was infuriating. But-while she hated to admit it– he also had a good point. She hadn’t seen anything that matched the elders' descriptions, and never saw any evidence that would indicate that there was anything monstrous about the woods at night. No missing, mauled people, no gutted animals, and certainly no large wolves with the ability to walk on two legs. 

She’d only asked about the creature once to her own mom, and the response she had gotten was less than substantial, having been something about how at the core of every myth and legend was a seed of truth. However, her mother's words, and the uncomfortable aura that had filled the room upon asking the question, never failed to make her think twice about it.

Edaara took a breath. They were running too fast.

 “Well, no, but-“

“Then how can you even be sure it exists ? It’s probably just some old folks' tale to scare teenagers into compliance. C’mon, let’s go .” He growled, pulling the girl along hurriedly. He had always been short on patience, and tonight was no exception. 

She ran along with him, having difficulty keeping up with the eager pep in his step. She didn’t really want to go. This was so pointless- but it’s what he wanted, and he made her promise to go along next time. So stupid.

“H-hey, slow down! I can’t keep up.” She snapped, pulling her hand out of his own. He paused to look at her, brow furrowed with something like irritation. 

“Ugh, here we go again.” He muttered, glaring down at her heaving form. He placed his hands on his hips impatiently, while she leaned on her knees in a desperate effort to catch her breath. 

She grit her teeth. She hated it when he was like this. She should just go, leave him to do whatever meaningless thing he was out here to do. But a part of her was hurt by the idea. She couldn’t do that to him. Besides, she didn’t even know the way back, and the fire from her home had disappeared behind the murk of the trees ages ago. 

“You’re such a-“ 

“Aha! Got it!” He exclaimed, lekku bouncing in excitement as he fished something from the nearby rotten trunk of a dead tree. 

“Wizard! It’s still here!” Shram smirked, holding up the plush object. It was a small stuffed animal, representing a Bantha from Tatooine. Its wooly fur was unkempt and matted, and it had a strange row of stitching at its side, but it otherwise looked intact. 

She rolled her eyes, and standing up straight, began to subconsciously play with the ends of her lekku. She just wanted to go already. 

“Can’t believe we came all the way out here for a stupid toy…” she muttered, kicking at a particularly dried, curled leaf at her foot. 

Her companion scoffed. “I think you mean valuable . Do you know how much this could be worth?” He smirked, fiddling around with the small object. He laughed, throwing up the plush Bantha and catching it loosely.

“...What are you talking about? It's just a stuffed animal, how is that ‘valuable’?” She hissed, crossing her arms. He was losing it.

A grin slithered across his face. She narrowed her eyes. 

“It’s not any old toy.” He smiled. 

He went for something tucked inside his vest, and to her surprise, brought out a rusted, chipped knife. 

“Shram! Where did you-”

With a practiced stroke, the haphazard stitching she had noticed before had been cut, and to her confusion, sand began pouring out of the plushie.

At least, she thought it was sand, until she noticed the way it shimmered and gleamed in the moonlight. 

That wasn’t sand- it was spice . 

“W-where did you get that?” She murmured, taking a few unsteady steps back. 

He smiled, failing to see anything wrong with the situation. 

“I ‘borrowed’ it from some...friends. They won’t be needing it anymore, so I was thinking we sell it, and buy our way off this planet. If we’re lucky, I might be able to strike a deal with some dealers, and we can become spice runners for some quick creds. What’d ya think? This is our ticket out of here.” He insisted, gauging her face for some sort of reaction.

“I- well, I guess…? H-Hold on- where did you get this from again? Friends?” She stammered. Something was…off. 

Shram chuckled softly. “Mhm. Yeah. Something like that.” There was a dark look in his eyes. 

A pit began to form in her stomach.

“...Shram, be honest with me. What did you do?” 

He glared at her, voice growing steely. “What’s it matter anymore? We have what we need, let’s go .”

“I am going nowhere with you until you tell me how you got that.” She said, gesturing towards the toy in his hand. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” His voice was monotonous now, eyes devoid of thought, of emotion. 

That was all she needed. 

“Y-you hurt someone, didn’t you?”

He didn’t respond, just tightened his grip around the Bantha, causing more spice to spill out onto the soil. 

“You ask so many annoying questions.” He muttered, throwing the stuffed animal to the side carelessly. 

 “Shram, do you realize what this means? I can’t just- I mean-” She sighed heavily, and cupped her face in her hands. Why was she crying?

 She was so stupid. This was stupid. She wanted to go to bed.

“It’s not a big deal. You’re such a child .” He growled, hands balling into fists. She hardly even noticed the fact that he still gripped his knife in one hand, too absorbed in her racing thoughts. What should they do? Should she tell someone? Tell her mom? The elders? Or should she just…Ignore it? She didn’t want him to get in trouble, did she? But this was too much, even for her. Eventually, she sighed. She was going to tell her mother in the morning. That sounded good, right? Right.

 “I can’t believe I snuck out. I’m going back home; have fun with your…toy, Shram.” She mumbled, wiping her sleeve across her eyes in an attempt to clear the salty accumulation of tears. She didn’t want him to see her cry anyway. She turned around, prepared to march through the woods, before she felt a hand roughly grasp her wrist. The nails dug into her skin, the grip tightening around her arm, forcing her to whirl around frantically. Shram had her by the wrist, and he wasn’t letting go.

“S-Shram! Let go, you’re hurting me-” She cried, struggling against his iron grasp. 

“I can’t trust you to go back. You’ll tell everyone what I plan to do. You’ll get me in trouble, while you steal the spice and use it for yourself. You’ll get rich with my credits.” He muttered, regarding her with cold, uncaring eyes. 

Edaara stared at him in shock. “W-what…?”

“I can’t let you go back.” He whispered, glancing at the knife with purpose. 

“Shram, s-stop, you’re scaring me.” She whimpered, pulling and fighting against his hold on her wrist. The places where his nails dug into her skin began to bleed, the crimson liquid marking the leaves beneath it. 

“I don’t think they’ll find you out here for a while. I mean, they haven’t found anyone else yet. When they do, I’ll be long gone and off this forsaken planet!” He yelled, bringing up his knife, poised to strike. 

Edaara widened her eyes. He regarded her with a wild, unstable look, one that sent her heart careening into overdrive. He was crazy. He was going to kill her over a toy.

Snap! 

Something snapped in the trees behind him, and he froze. He spun around, lurching the girl forward. She fell down onto her knees, but even then, he refused to let go. 

Snap!

There it was again. The twi’leks surveyed the forest, some primal instinct within them telling them that there was something out there, and they needed to be wary. Whatever had made the sounds was big, and stepped with purposeful weight. It was a predator. 

Edaara realized how quiet the woods had become. There were no insects, no birds, and even the trees had stalled their swaying. There was only the soft rush of the cool, early morning breeze. 

And that snap of branches within the brush. 

It was terrifying. 1

Shram froze, staring off into some dark spot of the forest. He was listening for something, and with halted breath, she listened, too. She didn’t hear much of anything at first, until she did. And maybe that was worse than not hearing.

There were footsteps. They were almost silent, but the leaf litter of the forest floor still made enough noise for it to be barely audible. Goosebumps raised themselves from her skin, and a shiver inched its way down her back. 

She needed to run. She needed to get away. 

She pulled at his grip, and scratched at his fingers, but he never let go. With a desperate kick, she struck the back of his knee. The boy knelt, letting out a soft grunt, and she felt his hold on her loosen. With panicked force, she wiggled free, and attempted to race away from both the unforeseen danger in the dark, and her current attacker.

She didn’t get far, as he managed to right himself and tackle her to the floor. Dirt and grim soiled her nightgown, and she flailed around widely in the mud. She felt herself begin to wail, uncontrolled sobs choking past her lips unwillingly. Kicking Shram off, she backpedaled towards a tree, mud and dirt accumulating beneath her nails as she scratched at the damp forest floor. The boy rose from the ground, wiping blood from his nose. They had both apparently forgotten about the animal in the forest, having refocused on their current issues at hand. 

To her dismay, Shram began making his way towards her, knife in hand. Uninterested in keeping herself quiet or calm with the horror of the situation, she began to scream and cry, panic rising in her throat. Her killer was feet away from her, and yet all she could do was feebly crawl away like some worm in the dirt. 

Her heart was in her ears, too fast and too loud in her brain. She wasn’t going to get away. He was going to slice her up. She was going to die. Distantly, she wondered if he would even give her the courtesy of wrapping her body up in something. Would she lie bare, with the maggots and worms chewing on her exposed flesh? Would she be dug up by some beast and consumed? Would anyone find her body? Would her mother sit at night, sobbing into her hands as she wondered what happened to her child? 

She grasped at a tree, bark stabbing the flesh beneath her cracked, dirtied nails. She tried to pull herself up, but to no avail. She flopped back into the floor, helpless to cry into her shoulder. Sham was there, like some horrible shadow, standing in front of her with a maniacal glint to his familiar features. 

“S-Sham, please , stop please stop , don't kill me- l-let me go home. I want to go home .” She wailed, snot and tears brandishing her skin. She didn’t even care at this point, freely letting the wet, salty water fall from her eyes. 

Sham hardly regarded her. 

“No.” He muttered, lifting his arm to swing down the knife in practiced form. 

She tensed, muscles bunching as she waited for the inevitable. 

And then she noticed the sound again. That extra pair of footsteps, left forgotten in their pursuit. 

And a heavy, feral huff she heard to her right. 

There was Sham, standing over like a primeval predator, but then there was a shadow, one that melted out from the brush. It was huge, furred, and dark. It blended into the environment perfectly, like a faraway silhouette. Yellow beads of light gleamed out from the dark mass, and with a start, she realized those were its eyes. And they were looking at her.

  With its head hung low, it began to emanate a low, bone-rattling growl. The boy in front of her turned around, a small gasp escaping his lips before that thing lunged, letting out a savage howl as it leapt from the soft, mossy dirt. As its white teeth glinted underneath the silky light of the moon, Edaara watched in full clarity as the beast clamped down on the boy's neck. 

Shram opened his mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. There was only a faint, wet, gurgling sound, as blood erupted from his throat and spilled out the side of his mouth, coating his lips a brilliant crimson. His fingers gripped at the fur, but failed to find their purchase, the knife having been flung from his hand a few feet away. 

He lay on the leaf litter, struggling and turning, tears slipping from his violet eyes, but resistance was futile. The beast shook its head violently, eliciting a sickening crack  from the boy's throat. His eyes widened, then glazed over, his twitching, convulsing form finally going still. The noise from his throat halted, and his heart shuddered, then stopped. 

Edaara couldn’t tear her eyes away. She wanted to- she wanted to so badly - but some invisible force made her watch as that thing ate her childhood best friend, and her potential murderer.  

With unmatched savagery, the creature tore into flesh and bone, ripping and pulling at muscles, tendons, and organs, devouring everything with a fervor she had never seen before. Intestines pulled themselves from his now exposed abdominal cavity, like fleshy ribbons strewn across the dirt floor. Bone crunched and splintered under the pressure of its monstrous maw, red marrow leaking out onto the dried leaves in gory contrast. Everything was so red . Blood coated its muzzle, chest, and arms like a macabre costume, and before she knew it, she couldn’t keep down the bile that had risen in her throat. 

She gagged, and then vomited, feeling the acid sting her nose and sting her eyes. 

The chewing noises stopped, and she looked up to see the animal staring at her, eyes reflecting the moonlight in some predatory way. 

She froze, locked beneath the impossibly heavy weight of that beasts’ gaze, while some primal instinct within her pulled at her bones, trying to get her up and moving in an attempt to run. 

The moonlight glistened on the wet, fresh blood that had coated its remarkably dark fur, highlighting that horrible, red sheen. 

She was hyperventilating, breath coming in panicked puffs, eyes frantically trying to avoid the mangled, half eaten corpse of her former comrade, and the piercing, haunting gaze of that thing in front of her. 

It growled, low and harsh, rumbling her chest with the gravity of the noise. It took a step or two closer, its weird hands scathing at the dirt and leaving bloodied paw prints on the dried leaves underfoot. But it was when it opened its mouth, inches away from her own face, hot, metallic breath escaping its toothed, bloodied maw, that she snapped. She screamed, a piercing sound that interrupted  the eerie silence of the stillness of early morning, and she stumbled up into a lame sprint, breaking through the trees in a panic. 

She ran and ran, tears flying in the wind as she blew through the thick underbrush. Sharp twigs and branches snapped at her ankles, cheeks, and arms, but she did not stop. The adrenaline in her blood was overwhelming, nullifying any signals of pain from the numerous, small gashes that developed on her exposed skin.

She didn’t even know for how long she had been running for, or if she was even going in the right direction. Would she be lost to the woods? Lost to that beast? 

Her lungs burned, breath heaving, tears streaming like a violent river down her dirtied cheeks. The quiet sounds of the forest amplified her ragged inhales and exhales, making them sound louder than they were. It was so quiet. 

It was…quiet?

There were no footsteps chasing her, no snarling, bated breaths behind her, just the cool night air coupled with the soft rustle of bugs in the grass. 

Suddenly, she broke into a clearing, and directly in front of her she saw her mothers’ hut. A sob tore itself from her throat, and she bolted towards the settlement. She didn’t care how loud she was being. She didn't care if she woke up the whole village. Wailing, the girl began banging on the door to the familiar and small house, racking its frame with unforgiving, and desperate knocks. She hardly noticed her neighbors opening their doors to see what the commotion was, confusion and fear clouding their sleepy expressions. 

There was a click from the door, and she almost fainted with relief. It was her mother, standing there with a confused, concerned look plastered onto her face. 

Rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, she gently took the girl's shoulders in her hands, attempting to still the uncontrollable tremor in her body. 

“Edaara, what-” 

Her mother tried, but was interrupted by a tight, anguished hug. Edaara sobbed, wetting her mother’s clothes with her tears. With soothing hands, her mother gently embraced her back, shushing her softly. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?...Why are you all dirty? What happened, Edaara?”

Edaara sniffled, refusing to let go even as her mother tried, and failed, to pull away. 

They stayed like that for a while, with the village residents slowly crowding around the pair. She hardly noticed, completely overcome with relief and fear and dread , still pounding through her veins. 

“...it was the beast.” she murmured, eyes puffy and red. 

“It ate him. I watched it eat him.” 

The villagers around her froze, each turning their sights from the quivering, sobbing girl, to the ominous shadow of the wood line, distant and imposing in the early morning darkness. 

With haste, the villagers rushed indoors, with Edaara having been swept up by her mother and brought to her bedside. 

And in seconds, the once stirring village became silent.

Far deeper in the woods, the creature continued to feast. It had paid no mind to the girl when she ran, too fixated and hungry to care about the loss of an extra meal; besides, it had what it needed right here. 

Its teeth bit down on hard bone, eliciting a satisfactory crack from the calcium rich, yellow-white material. It tasted divine, like the saving nectar of a fruit, its sweetness replaced by the sour tang of iron. 

He pulled and tugged at muscle, skin, and visceral. The blood ran down his fur, his teeth, his hands and maw, but he paid no heed to the dried and crusted substance. 

 Hours had passed, and most remains of his prey had been consumed, save for the pool of red, bits of splintered bone, and flesh, which had stained the leaves and soil where the body had lay. 

Liking his lips, the wolf sat back on his haunches, staring off into the stars above. Some part of him was hypnotized by the  omnipotent feature of the moon, which sat lower in the sky. Yawning, he eventually tore his eyes away from the glowing magnificence of the far away, astral body, and he stood up to stretch.

   The wolf was content, having eaten his fill, and prowled through the forest absentmindedly. It was quiet in the woods, but he supposed he did not mind. For some reason, noise had seemed so…loud, even for a creature such as himself. He found himself relishing the calm, serene visage. However, something was itching within his skin, some annoying, sore feeling that made him wince every few paces, but he tried to ignore it. What was it? It made him…anxious  

Prowling through the forest, the creature began to observe his surroundings. He heard a noise somewhere out south, another crunch of the leaves out towards his right, and a little scurry in the underbrush just up ahead.  Curiosity had got the best of him, and he wanted to preoccupy his mind with something else less distressing. Getting low to the ground, the wolf carefully inched forward, ears pressed back against his head. The small, quick mammal he had heard scurrying around underfoot had darted for a hollow tree up ahead, and he very much so wanted to see it with his own two eyes. Perhaps to play around with? Eat it? He didn’t know. He was just simply… mystified by the miniscule rodent.

Reaching the hollow log, the wolf began to shimmy his head in between the small hole. Bark and dirt collected on his fur, and skin. Dust flew up into his nostrils, and he couldn’t help but let out a loud, violent sneeze. The noise started the small creature, which squealed in alarm and scrambled up the remaining innards of the dead tree. The wolf whined, looking up at the small mammal sadly. He supposed it didn’t want to play.

With a defeated huff, he popped his head out from the hollow, and, shaking off the remaining dust and grime, slowly made his way through the trees. He was surprisingly bored, a distant part of him used to having companionship around. It was strange. He didn’t like it, being alone for so long. 

A sharp pang struck through his skull, causing him to stumble forward, and desperately grasp onto the mossy, chipped bark of a thick tree to his right. He panted, eyes wide and confused. What was happening? Did he sustain an injury when he had been taking down his prey? No, no, that couldn’t be it.. Was it dehydration? It must be. He hadn't had a substantial amount of water in a few hours. Perhaps that was all. 

With a newfound sense of caution, the creature stepped forward, still leaning on the thick, rough tree. He waited a few seconds before letting go, wanting to check if the pain would return, before he departed from his refuge. 

It was only a matter of seconds before he yelped, grasping and clawing at his skull. It burned . 

Distantly, behind cloudy, teary eyes, the wolf noticed how the sky seemed to lighten, turning from a deep blue, to a light, glowing, teal. 

Oh. 

So that was it.

The night was coming to an end. 

The moon, his refuge, was abandoning him to the dawn. 

The wolf stumbled, growling as his head throbbed. Fire consumed his veins, submerging him in that excruciating, blinding white light. He fell to the ground, scratching at the dirt underneath his claws, roaring and yelping like some pathetic thing. He hated it. He didn’t want to go back. It was too much.

Dark, soft fur smoothed back into tan skin. His long canine teeth shaped themselves back into that of a human, and the long, sweeping tail slowly made its departure. His animalistic legs, long and pawed, mended themselves back to normal.  He howled in agony, the sound morphing into something surprisingly human. 

Just as quickly as the transformation began, it was over. 

The man lay in the dirt, feebly panting and groaning. A thought, fleeting and desperate, pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. Where.. Where was he? How did he get here? And…where was his family? He tried to stand, move, do anything, but his muscles screamed in protest. Exhaustion stabbed his brain, and the inevitable call of unconsciousness pulled him into oblivion, plunging him into the blissful lull of darkness.

Chapter Text

Wrecker’s booming voice echoed through the tall, foreboding trees, as loud and as strong as he was. He called out Hunter’s name again and again, awaiting any sort of response, whether it be good or…bad.

So far, he had yet to receive anything back, sparking a frown to appear upon his already weary face. 

 Dawn had broken about an hour or so ago, and the sky was a nostalgic, light blue color. The sun hadn’t risen above the land, but its radiant glow did pulse at the edges of the horizon.

Tech was slowly trudging behind him, Omega asleep in his arms. She was relatively light, so the extra weight wasn’t too bad, but it was enough to slow him down to where Wrecker began to notice. His arm was still stiff and swollen at the joint, but the bacta he had received had helped with mobility and pain to where he was sure he could carry the girl around. He had actually offered to carry her when she began to yawn and trip over her own two feet, but Tech had swooped in, insisting that Wrecker’s arm still needed time to heal. 

Now, however, he was pretty sure Tech’s concussion was making things difficult. 

“Oi, do ya’ want me to take ‘er?” He asked, examining the foliage and undergrowth for any sign of a path. He didn’t know what he was looking at- tracking was Hunter’s job. 

 Tech grunted, readjusting the sleeping form in his arms. 

“No, no, this is fine. You should not be lifting anything with the current state of your arm.”

Wrecker laughed. “My arm is fine . Besides, the kid only weighs like, what, 2 pounds? That’s nothin’!”

The slimmer man paused, considering the offer for a moment before signing. Gently, he passed the girl over to the ready arms of Wrecker, who easily cradled her against his chest. She was exhausted from the night's events, that much was obvious. 

Tech watched him carefully. “Nothing hurts?” He inquired, looking his brother up and down for any signs of discomfort. 

“Nah, I told ya, she’s as light as a tooka!” 

“Of course. Have you found a trail yet? Anything that may indicate Hunter has been here?” 

Wrecker shrugged softly. “I’m not gonna lie, this whole tracking thing was more of Hunter’s forte, not mine. Although, I think there’s some tracks leading in this direction.” He mumbled, gesturing his head further down into the trees. 

“Not to worry. My visor may be able to aid us.”  Tech reassured, and, adjusting his helmet, equipped his visor. He fiddled with the settings before eventually landing on a rarely used, and extremely bright, sensor that illuminated  noticeable depressions in the earth. He winced against the harsh, grating light, his headache throbbing in protest, but otherwise attempting to keep himself focused on the vision before him. 

His heart jumped a bit when he noticed, with a start, that the tracks before him looked strikingly unique. It was a rather strange print, one he’d never seen before, with archaic, hand-like paws at the front that gouged earth beneath them, and large, lupine hind paws, that sunk into the dirt with purposeful weight. 

“You were right, there is a trail here. Due to the humanoid nature of the prints, I believe these may belong to Hunter. He seemed to have been going that way somewhere…In the direction of the village.” He pointed off into the forest, squinting against the dingy dark of the woods. 

Wrecker muttered a curse under his breath. “You don’t think he would do it..right?”

Tech trudged forward, concentrated on making out the shapes in the dirt. “I…do not know. Considering he had no issue almost mauling us , people he is rather familiar with, it can be assumed that he would.”

Wrecker’s face fell.

“...However,” He continued, glancing at Wrecker’s crestfallen expression, ”he seemed to resist the urge to eat us. He may be able to stop himself if the need arises.” 

“Good point.” His brother smiled, falling in step beside him. “He’s got this-he’ll be fine.” 

Tech couldn’t find it in him to agree. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence, with Tech zeroed in on the trail highlighted before him, and Wrecker following along. He wiped sweat off his brow, a side effect of the rising morning humidity, and accidentally jostled Omega around a little too much in the process. The girl blinked awake, tiredly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She glanced up at her beholder, and was met with a solid, boisterous grin. She felt a hand ruffle her hair, and she giggled tiredly. 

“Sorry for waking ya’, ‘Mega.” 

“It's ok.” She mumbled, curling up against his armor. Her eyes snapped open, and memories of the night came flooding back. 

“W-wait! Did we find him? Is he ok? How long was I out?” She looked around, panic widening her eyes. 

Wrecker chuckled softly. “Nah, not yet, we’re still looking. Tech is on his trail, though. Should be coming up on him soon, if we’re lucky.”

She sighed in relief. 

“I didn’t wanna miss him. Sorry I fell asleep.” She muttered. She sounded ashamed.

“I was supposed to help you all look for him, but I ended up just sleeping…” 

“Don’t worry about it, kid. You need your rest- we’ll be alright.” 

She huffed, looking off into the woods. She didn’t seem to take what Wrecker said to heart. 

“Can you let me down?” 

He nodded, and gently, he let her stand on her own. She stretched where she stood, and with a new pep in her step, she raced up to join Tech, who was staring oddly at something with his head tilted in perplexion. 

She slowed down upon meeting him, and coming up beside his stiff form, tried to find what he thought was so interesting. 

“Tech, what are you-”

The man jumped at the sound of her voice, and with a protective shove pushed her back from where he stood. She glanced at his face, confused. What was the matter?

He turned to look at her, sweat making itself apparent from behind his visor. His eyes looked…Disturbed. 

That was never a good sign. 

“What’s wrong?” She murmured, voice wavering. 

“I- nothing. Can you fetch Wrecker for me?” He shifted uncomfortably. He was blocking her view of something. 

“Ok..?” She drawled, confused, but otherwise eager to be of service.

She raced back to Wrecker, whispering to him that Tech needed him for something. Her brother picked up his pace, and trotted over to where Tech was standing. He motioned for her to stay a few paces back, as a precaution, and so she did. 

They talked with hushed voices, and Tech gestured to something on the soil in front of them. Wrecker audibly gagged, and, shuffling a few feet away to collect himself, tried not to heave. Tech removed his helmet, rubbing the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily. 

What were they looking at? It wasn’t Hunter, was it? 

She was going to speak up, ask about what had made them so obviously unnerved, but not before Tech pointed to the right, and made a motion with his hand as if he found another path. Wrecker nodded, purposefully avoiding the spot in front of him, and turned to retrieve Omega. 

“Uh, c’mere.” He motioned, beckoning her to come to him. She obliged, trotting to meet him.

“What is it? What’s wrong? It’s not Hunter, is it? Is he ok?”

Something flashed behind his eyes, but it was gone before she even had the chance to decipher what it was. “Uh, no, no, It’s not him, but it would be best if we went this route instead. I’ll carry ya.” was all he said before she was swooped up and cradled in his arms. He was moving oddly fast, with Tech in the lead, pointedly making an effort to avoid some area in the leaves. 

Briskly, her brothers continued on through the trees. Distantly, she thought she smelled the faint, yet unmistakable, iron-tang of blood. But as quickly as it touched her nose, it was gone, brushed away by the soft wind. 

Needless to say, it made her skin crawl. 

What exactly had they seen? 

A few minutes of rather uncomfortable silence passed between them, before Wrecker worked up the courage to ask about something else. It could’ve been anything, even something pointless, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to fill the void. So, he asked about the time. 

Tech answered  quickly, perhaps glad to have something else occupying his brain. Apparently, it was around six in the morning, but he couldn’t be bothered to check his datapad for confirmation. 

Wrecker nodded, even though Tech couldn’t see it, and kept marching on. He didn’t want to think about what they had seen, left in the trail behind them. Everytime he blinked, the image would flash before his mind's eye, leaving him blatantly disgusted, horrified, and…disappointed? Was that it? Disappointment? He didn’t really know for certain. 

There was always the chance that it had been something else, right? Some other little creature on this planet?

He sighed, feeling Omega’s eyes locked on him. He shouldn’t be thinking of this stuff- that was Tech’s job or something. 

He also needed to stop kidding himself. He already knew what had happened- a part of him just didn’t want to believe it. 

Omega narrowed her eyes. 

“What did you guys see?”

Wrecker stiffened upon hearing Omega’s inquiry. What should he say? He shouldn’t tell her, right? Should he..lie?

“Uh…” He began, but was interrupted by Tech, who knelt to the ground. He was investigating one of the tracks, confusion knitting his brow.

“What's the matter?” He asked, placing the girl on the floor next to him.  

Tech was quiet for a moment, before he stood up once more. 

“His tracks. They are…changing.” He said, something in his voice edging on fascination. 

“What?” It was Omega, who glanced up at him incredulously. “How is that possible?”

“I am unsure. However, from what I can observe, they are morphing into something bordering on human.” 

He stroked his chin, as though thoroughly perplexed by the discovery.  “Interesting.” He murmured. Omega shot him a weird look, but otherwise ignored the comment. 

“I think he is near. Come, we may be closer than we realize.” With that, the trio continued on the trail, this time with far more frantic, hurried footsteps than before. The aura around them had changed, filled with something almost like dread. They could almost feel him getting closer, like some kind of sibling sense, and the shifting track beneath them had increased their disheveled searching.  

“Tech, do you see anything?” It was Wrecker, panting and out of breath. He hated running when it was humid. 

His brother kept scanning the foliage, some unknown emotion pushing him forward. “No, but I know he is near. There is no doubt about it.” 

Up ahead, they noticed the upturned, unsettled dirt, and the scratched trees around them. It looked almost as if Hunter had been engaged in a battle, but the only prints they saw in the soil were his own. Just what had happened here? 

Tech approached a particularly full bush, and with vigor began swatting its outstretched branches away. The leaves swung back and worth, slapping against his visor annoyingly. 

“Blasted bu-'' His frustrated muttering was cut short, as a small gasp managed to snake past his lips. 

Eyes wide, he felt his siblings join at his side. They too froze, horror fixing itself on their features. 

There, a few feet in front of them, was Hunter, faced down in the dirt. 

They rushed towards him, kicking up dried leaves as they bolted to his side. When they reached him, Tech and Wrecker knelt down to his level, set on examining him for any signs of life. Omega watched on, eyes wide and taunted with fear. 

“Tech, is he..?”

He felt for a pulse at his neck, and sighed with relief when he felt the steady, strong thump of blood. “He’s alive, just very… unkempt.” He replied, gesturing at the state of their sergeant. 

And Hunter was a mess. His dark, long hair was loose, untamed by his bandana, and entangled with sticks, leaves, and debris, like some wild animal. His skin was dirty, and smudged with soil, signaling that he desperately needed a bath. The only clothes he had on were his torn and tattered pants, which would probably never be worn again. 

Tech gestured for Wrecker to turn him over, so he could examine the front of his body fully. His stronger brother complied, and with a solid, yet gentle hand, rolled him over onto his back. 

Everyone froze, nausea suddenly swelling within Wrecker’s stomach. Omega audibly gasped, and tried to peel her eyes away from the macabre display before her.

Hunter lay there, unconscious and unaware, but otherwise just fine. The thing that had them so…disturbed, was the dried on, layered blood around his mouth, neck, chest, and arms. Tech and Wrecker exchanged knowing, fearful glances before they shook themselves off, and went back to ensuring their brother was truly…fine. 

“ Who’s blood is that ?” It was Omega, who had been staring at the disgusting, red substance on his skin. Her brothers shot another quick glance at each other, yet didn’t exactly respond. Wrecker furrowed his brow, and with a hesitant voice, spat out a lie. She didn’t have to know the truth. Not this time. 

“He got after an…animal. That’s what we didn’t want you to see over there; it was pretty gruesome.” He murmured, checking his brother over absentmindedly, desperate to avoid her knowing eyes. Omega didn’t say much. She just let out a small “...oh.” and got quiet. That was concerning. 

Did she believe him?

Nodding slightly to himself, Tech sat back on his haunches, apparently pleased with his examination. “Despite the obvious transformation last night, Hunter appears to be just fine. He is simply  unconscious, most likely due to exhaustion. Nonetheless, we should relocate him back to the ship- Wrecker, if you would?” Tech gestured, kneeling on one knee.

Wrecker nodded, and bent to pick his brother up from the floor. But before he could even touch him, Hunter’s eyes snapped open, and with a panicked gasp, he shot up, grasping Wrecker’s wrist in his clawed hand. With a startled yelp, Wrecker flinched away, tearing his arm out of his hold, and ceremoniously falling onto his backside. 

Tech jumped back, hands immediately going for the blasters at his hip. Omega let out a soft shriek, surprise causing her to trip and fall backwards. 

They stayed there, staring at Hunter, their wariness pushing their gazes into something like suspicion…or fear . But Hunter just looked…confused. Afraid.  Omega narrowed her gaze, realization dawning. 

“...Hunter, do you know where you are right now?” She prodded, slowly inching closer to him.

The sergeant was breathing fast and heavy, eyes darting between the trees. He shook his head, his crazy, long hair swishing with the action. “N-no, I- I don’t- wh-what happened…?” He muttered, shifting in his place, uncomfortable with the tense aura that radiated from his brothers. His eyes were wide, confusion riddling their normally resolute, sure gaze. He was terrified.

“G-guys? What’s- what's happening?” He stuttered, noting the guns aimed at his vitals. 

She glared at Wrecker and Tech, who each relaxed their postures. Tech lifted his hands away from his blasters, instead kneeling down to meet his brother. Wrecker shuffled closer, also kneeling in the dried leaves and soft dirt. With a hesitant, shaky hand, Tech slowly, carefully placed a comforting hand on his brother's bare shoulder. 

He swallowed thickly, trying to find the words to relax the situation. 

“You will be alright, we are here now. We’ll explain everything later. Can you stand?” He asked, silently picking out a twig from his brother's dark, long locks. He was going to ignore the weirdness of the situation. No use dwelling on it, right?

“I- I think so.” He murmured, shifting to stand on the crinkling, crumbling leaves. He stumbled, almost falling, but not before Wrecker caught his hand, carefully helping him to balance. Hunter leaned heavily on his brother, breath coming in exhausted puffs.

 In the end, he was up, but was unable to stand on his own, instead relying on his brothers fortifying strength. Dizziness swam in his vision, but he tried to remain focused on the task at hand. 

His stomach began to churn ominously, but he elected to deal with that later. 

To his surprise, his pants felt loose at his waist, and he almost had to hold on to the kriffing things before they slid off. It was odd- how had they stretched out so much? Come to think of it, why was he practically…naked? Where were his clothes? Sure, the torn, destroyed pants were a blessing, but what about his shirt? His armor? His bandana ? This was… embarrassing.  

He winced, a pain in his stomach beginning to show itself. His siblings seemed to notice, and they looked at him with newfound concern. 

“Hunter? You ok?” It was Wrecker, he sounded alarmed. 

Hunter stared holes into the floor, his stomach doing flips. Oh, he did not feel well. 

“..mhm.” he hummed, not trusting himself to speak. He could feel the vomit rising in his throat. He really, really didn’t want to throw up right now. He tried to calm himself, relax his nausea or something, but it wasn’t working. There was no stopping it. Whatever was in his stomach wanted out . 

Tech backed away–eyes widening with knowing-- and pushed Omega behind him. 

“Wrecker, I think he’s going to-”

Pushing off of his brother, Hunter knelt to the floor, vomit erupting from his lips. He heaved and gagged, the disgusting flavor harassing his senses. It tasted so metallic, so sour, like blood and bile. 

It was revolting .

 It kept until all he could do was dry heave, his abdomen sore and aching. Eyes watery, he carefully opened them, finally having some reprieve from the continual, gross onslaught of sickness. He sat back, exhausted, his chest heaving with attempts to catch his breath. 

When he looked at what he had thrown up, his blood ran cold. 

It was blood, flesh, fingers and skin, all in a raw pool in the leaves. The potent, metallic smell of iron and bile floated into the air, assaulting his nostrils with the putrid combination. W-what had happened last night? He couldn’t remember. Oh force, what did he do? Why was there- oh please no . Why couldn't he remember ?

Frantically, he threw himself back, horror and disgust riddling his face. 

When the brothers saw what had shaken Hunter so badly, their hearts sank. Tech carefully maneuvered himself in front of Omega, preventing her from getting a glimpse. Vomit was gross to see anyway, so he hoped she wasn’t exactly itching to get a peek. 

Wrecker turned an ominous shade of green, and turned his back to the macabre scene. Tech tried to appear unfazed by the situation, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t absolutely horrifying, yet oddly…fascinating. But science would have to wait. His brother was obviously not well, no matter what way he tried to look at it. 

Tech made his way over to Hunter,kneeling down besides his shaking, bare form. Gingerly, he put a comforting hand on his exposed, dirty shoulder, making Hunter almost flinch. Tech looked at him, his brow furrowed in hardly concealed sympathy. 

“Tech, I-I think I did something awful .” He gasped, eyes darting around him in panic, “but-but I don’t remember anything ! I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I did .” He cried, glancing at the puddle of bile and flesh. 

“I know, Hunter. We are still trying to determine what has occurred as well. However, it would be in our best interest to return to the ship, so I can run some tests…and, well, clean you up.” He stated blandly, gesturing at his brother's grimy, blood stained skin.

Hunter raised an eyebrow, and for the first time that day glanced at his own hands with renewed awareness. His heart sank as he bore witness to the macabre scene before him. His hands were coated with sticky, crusted on dried blood, the sanguine liquid dousing his skin in iron scented red. His chest, exposed to the elements, was also painted with that horrible, ominous crimson stain. But the worse part, without a doubt, was when he felt a substance around his lips. With a hesitant lick (why did he do that?), he tasted-to his extreme horror- blood, circling his mouth, as if he had gorged himself on the damned thing. 

Nausea twisted his stomach, and he was almost sure he was going to puke again. Oh, by the stars , what had he done ? 

With a new sense of desperation, Hunter began to frantically wipe his hands on the dirt, leaves, and old moss of the forest floor. He didn’t want this. He wanted to get it off! It was a red, crusted, stuck on reminder of something - he didn’t even know what he was reminded of, but he didn’t want it anymore. 

“I-I didn’t- I don’t know wh-“ he stuttered, trailing off while still violently cleaning his hands on the leaf litter. Anger, and fear began to boil up in his chest, hot and warm, spreading from his chest and numbing his limbs. Oh force, it wasn’t working. The blood was still there. It was still there. Why wasn’t it coming off? 

Kriffing- Come off ! 

Tech grabbed his wrist, stilling his frantic, desperate movements. Hunter flinched, glancing upwards at his brother with an uncharacteristic amount of fear in his darkened, haunted eyes. 

Tech's own hands shook, and he wore a pinched, furrowed expression of concealed anxiety. It was a rather unusual, foreign display on his features, one that caused a heavy, solid pit to form in Hunter’s stomach. Oh, please let this be some sort of messed up dream . Maybe- maybe he was still in the ship- and- and he was just dreaming - because no normal, sane man eats someone, right? Oh, force, what is he going to do ? 

He turned away from Tech’s worried, piercing gaze, and sat there, rubbing his tired, weary eyes with his bloodied fist. His eyes almost looked watery, as if tears were threatening to fall. That hopeless, distraught look on their usually stoic sergeant was…a wavering sight to see. 

With a concerned glance, Tech looked to Wrecker for guidance. His larger brother seemed to be almost as distraught as Hunter was, but when noticing Tech’s desperate gaze pointed to him, sobered up. They didn’t have time for..for whatever this was. They could figure everything out later, right?

Omega stood further back, looking at the brothers from a safe distance at Tech's request. Even from her place a few meters away, she could sense the precarious nature of the situation. Her own mind raced with unanswered, swirling questions. What was wrong with Hunter? Why had he…become that thing last night? Will it happen again? Right now, perhaps? Tonight? Tomorrow? In five minutes from now? And why was he covered in blood? She knew they had told her it was because of an unfortunate encounter with some local beast, but a part of her hadn’t believed it. Wrecker was an unconvincing liar, and that hadn’t been an exception. She could see it in his eyes- it was something far more serious. Did Hunter…remember? No, she didn’t think he did- he hadn’t even remembered how he had gotten out into the forest anyway. 

…Was he afraid? 

She thought so. And she was, too.