Chapter Text
Part I: It Can't Be For Nothing
. . . . . . . . . .
“Alright.” Hunter double-checks the holomap as the Marauder lands on Umbara. “Standard demolition job. Get to the base and destroy it.” He looks up at his squad. "It's an airfield. The Republic controlled it during the Siege, but the Umbarans captured it back once the majority pulled out."
"So we blow it up so they can't have it." Echo nods once, glancing out the cockpit viewport. "Looks like it's a klick away."
“We can take anything they'll throw at us!" Wrecker’s excitement echoes throughout the hold. “Yeah!”
”I would advise caution.” Tech sets his datapad on the table. “Umbara is home to several species of flora and fauna that are hostile. The Republic files document that more regs were killed by the wildlife than actual battle.”
“So don’t play with the animals.” He can almost hear Crosshair’s eye roll, even through his helmet. “Got it.”
“Hopefully we won’t be here long enough to meet them.” Hunter looks over at Echo. “Stay with the ship. We may need a fast exfil.”
The ARC nodded, all business, and Hunter wonders if he shouldn't leave Tech with the ship instead. But the reg's scomp link was damaged in their last battle, and this place is hostile enough without sending an injured ARC in. Even if the ARC is still more capable than the entire squad put together, Hunter doesn't want to risk it. His job is to protect his squad.
They can get this done; just the four of them. Just like old times.
Hunter nods and slides his helmet on. "Let's move out."
. . . . . . . . . .
Hunter takes a large swallow of his drink and stares at the monitor in the corner of the cantina. Feels like every time he watched the HoloNet, they broadcast the destruction of Kamino. The Senate's decrying the attack and the Empire's putting all the blame on some admiral, but it doesn't feel like any justice is being served.
Feels more like the Empire is celebrating and putting a mask on overtop.
Hunter drains his drink and glares at the monitor. It’s stupid to think he could have done something to prevent Kamino’s fall: he’s one soldier. One soldier without a squad. He’s of no service to anybody, but…could he have done something? Anything?
No, he couldn’t. And sitting here feeling sorry for himself's not accomplishing anything either.
It's been a month, since Kamino fell. Hunter heard from his contacts that Rex was the one behind the leaked intel. And Hunter's willing to bet his armour that Echo was with him.
The cantina doors slide open, and Hunter looks up to see an Aqualish walk in. He doesn’t recognise them, and they don’t pay him any mind, so he refills his drink and sits back. The mystery of why the Empire would destroy Kamino still doesn’t sit right with him, but it’s not his problem. He doesn’t care.
He sips his drink and just watches the patrons of the cantina. He recognises a few of them; mostly regulars who are always in some state of drunk. Some beings that are never truly sober.
Which describes him pretty well.
A long time ago, he would never have stepped foot inside this cantina. Back when he still had them. Now, cantinas like this are his home.
He still has the Marauder. At least that much was salvaged from his past, but it’s not home. He can’t call it home; not when it’s full of ghosts.
‘Hunter!’
Hunter pours another nikta and knocks it back, wanting to silence those ghosts. It never works; not really, but the alcohol at least lets him sleep for a few hours. That’s all he really needs.
He’s normally better at managing the ghosts of the past, but not today. Not any Empire Day. Stupid holiday that celebrates the death of his brothers and the regs. Millions of clones died, and for what? So slavery could come back? So he could watch from the sidelines as what clones remain are being mistreated and abused?
Hunter abruptly stands and sets down enough credits to cover the four drinks he had before marching to the exit of the cantina. He’s done. There’s a line between getting drunk enough to silence the ghosts and too drunk. Getting too drunk just gets him lost in the memories.
Besides, he’s had enough of watching blaster fire slam into Tipoca City.
Wasn’t like Kamino was much of a home to him or to any other clone. The most it had ever been was a staging area for his squad to prep for missions. And now that it’s just him, there's no force in the entire galaxy that will drag him back there. He'd say that he'd rather kill himself than go back, but he knows the truth about that.
The cold air outside the cantina sobers him up a little bit, and Hunter shakes his head before he can go too deep down that bogling hole. The scar on the right side of his head twinges at the very idea, so he crushes it with the memories and the ghosts.
He needs a job.
And it probably isn't safe to hang out on this planet much longer anyway. Garel is one of the few places he can be inconspicuous, but there’s always that feeling of discomfort. Before, he'd attribute this feeling to his enhanced senses, warning him of danger before it happens. When the enemy is almost always droids with significant electromagnetic signatures, sensing them out - and whatever danger was ahead - was easy.
Now, the enemy is his own brothers. So Hunter can no longer rely on those senses to protect him. That feeling he once relied on is nothing more than a reminder of everything he's trying to forget.
Though, that feeling's been growing stronger over the last few hours.
Tech would encourage him to find out why he feels this way; see if there are environmental clues or something. Crosshair would agree with his assessment and tell him to hide. Wrecker would want to fight the Empire instead of hiding.
Echo’s silent. As usual.
Hunter keeps his head on a swivel as he leaves the area, more out of habit than worry over being jumped. He’d love to see some thug try and take him. Not that it really matters if he loses. Not like he has much going on.
But nothing of the sort happens on the short walk back to the shipyards. Hunter doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or not as he enters the docks and sees the ship.
The Marauder had been Tech’s pride and joy. He took great pains in keeping the ship as clean and up-to-date as he possibly could. Back when it was their home.
Now? It’s just a means of transport and nothing more. Covered in scorch marks from firefights and a few missing panels that probably aren’t important: Tech never would have let the Marauder get to such a state.
But he’s gone. And it’s just Hunter. The state of the Marauder suits him; suits this new life he found. It's falling apart. Just like his armour is. Just like he is.
Also makes sure no one’s going to steal his ship.
Hunter boards and quickly leaves Garel, jumping to hyperspace before checking the comms. No messages. No jobs.
So he goes searching. He needs to find a job. Search-and-destroy; assassination; firefight, anything that’ll distract him from the ghosts of the past. Anything.
It doesn't matter who he fights. Empire; these rebel groups that have been popping up...he'll take anything. Because work is the only thing that's...keeping him from doing what he knows he's too cowardly to do. The thing he should have done as soon as they jumped to hyperspace after-
Work.
. . . . . . . . . .
He ducks behind a stone half-wall and holds still while several blaster bolts sail over his head. These kriffing rebels have him pinned down and are preventing him from leaving with the package. He pops up and fires a few rounds before being forced to duck back down. At least one rebel cries, so at least one is down.
But he still can’t move. He's pinned down, and he's pretty sure there's at least five rebels in front of him.
This feels too familiar. Crouched behind cover in the mud, waiting for an opening to complete the mission. For a moment, things feel right again.
Without thinking, he activates his comm. “Crosshair! I need cover fire!”
The comms are silent as it slowly dawns on him what he just did. Suddenly out of breath, Hunter drops to a knee and tears his helmet away before cradling his head in his muddy hands, breathing hard.
He just…he…they…
The blaster fire continues all around him. Suddenly filled with rage, Hunter drops his rifle and trades it for his pistol and knife. These rebels want a fight? Fine with him.
And if they kill him? That’s fine too.
Hunter vaults over the wall and fires two precise shots that slam into the two rebels dumb enough to leave cover. Rolling to the side, he grabs one of the dead bodies, using it as a shield as he pushes forward.
He’s almost on top of the main group when he throws the corpse forward, the confusion enough to lose himself in the deadly rhythm of close-quarters combat. Stab that guy; shoot that guy in the knee to get an angle to slit his throat; throw the knife into that girl’s back.
Finally, all the rebels are down. With only a few burns on his armour.
Not bad.
Hunter walks back to his wall and retrieves his helmet, doing his best to wipe the mud off his face before sliding it back on. After doing a sweep to make sure there are no other rebels, he wipes the blood off his knife before returning it to its sheath. “Area secure.”
A Neimoidian timidly creeps out of the ruins of a tiny hut, an object hastily wrapped in cloth held in his trembling hands. “You’re sure?”
Hunter resists the urge to sigh and chooses to simply nod. Seppie’s skittish enough as it was. “Where’s this going?”
The Neimoidian hand him the package along with a tracking fob. “Naboo.”
Hunter scowls under his helmet and studies the wrapped package. What does a former Separatist world want with Naboo? The Naboo aren’t going to be receptive of this package if they know where it comes from.
But none of that is his concern. Hunter kneels down and puts the package in his pack, making sure it's secure before returning the pack to his back. “Payment.”
The Neimoidian nods, hurrying back to the hut and emerging with a sealed case. Setting it on the ground, he unlocks it and Hunter lifts a handful of credits out of it, hefting it in his hand. He drops it back into the case and looks up at the Neimmoidian, just staring at him.
His silence seems to unnerve the Neimoidian. “It’s all there. Hundred thousand, just like we agreed.”
Hunter stays silent for a few more seconds before nodding, returning the credits to the case before sealing it back up and standing. “I trust you keep your word.”
He doesn’t: Neimoidians are infamous across the galaxy for backstabbing. But counting every credit will take too long and thinly-veiled threats usually keeps the backstabbing away from him.
He nods in parting and turns to begin the long trek back to the ship. The trip will give him time to understand what he had just done.
“We could still use your services!”
Hunter half-turns and shakes his head at the Neimodian. “Your war is your business!”
He’s learned his lesson: don’t get involved. This planet’s population is in the middle of a brutal civil war, with half wanting to join the Empire and half wanting to resist.
He doesn’t know this planet’s name and he doesn’t care. All he knows was he killed some supporters of the Empire today and that’s always a good thing. Beyond that…
They can have their war. He’s done risking his life for a cause he doesn’t even understand.
But he had called out for help…
Finally alone, Hunter hangs his head, barely able to keep the emotions at bay. Five years and he still sometimes forgets. In the heat of battle, calling on his brothers is still the most natural thing in the galaxy. It just makes the answering silence all the more jarring.
Hunter swallows and shoves all those emotions back, locking them back in their box as he focuses on the mission. Deliver this package to Naboo. What it is, he doesn’t care. Could be the Blue Shadow Virus for all he knows.
Although, the package feels too large to be the virus.
And after that, he’ll vanish for a while. Lay low and see if the Empire come investigating reports of a black and red armoured clone trooper. Only one of those left in the galaxy now…
He should probably change the colours on his armour. Maybe strip the paint off to be more anonymous. Or maybe he should keep everything the same; face the Empire when they come for him.
Maybe he can finally track down Echo: try and mend that bridge. Probably earn him a blaster bolt but he could try. Not that it’ll do him any good. Last they spoke, Echo made it pretty clear what he thought of Hunter.
May as well try and shoot himself if he’s going to track Echo, save the ARC the trouble.
So then he’ll go to Nar Shaddaa; see if he can’t piece together enough intel for another job. Maybe earn some information pipelines while he’s at it. Those are usually worth the effort.
If the ghosts are bothered that this was his life, they never say so. Not that they would. The atmosphere of the 99 had very much been ‘his word goes’. They chose their missions based on how he, as leader, felt.
How fitting that was what-
Hunter slams a lid on that and picks up the pace, jogging towards the ship. The sooner he can get off this swamp-infested planet, the better.
. . . . . . . . .
For once, the Neimoidian was telling the truth. Case had a hundred-thousand credits. He’s genuinely surprised. Credits will go a long way towards keeping some of the more dangerous mercs off his back. Not that it’ll stop the determined ones. He’s crossed paths with bounty hunters too often now; Bane will probably shoot him for free at this point. He knows Shand isn't a big fan of him right now either.
That thought has him constantly scanning the rooftops, looking for the reflection of a scope. He hates coming to Nar Shaddaa, simply because there are endless sniper perches. Literally, any other planet would be better. But, this is where the best pipelines lived.
He's decided to hold off on delivering the package for now. A supply run is more important, and Naboo is his next destination anyway. Nar Shaddaa was just closer.
Hunter keeps his hand on his holstered pistol as he turns into an alley, nodding at the two Weequay guards standing in front of a closed gate. “Fellas.” He tries to look through the gate. “Nils around?”
“Right here.”
Hunter turns around to face Nils, ignoring the way the Twi keeps her hand hovering by her own holstered weapon. “What you got?”
Nils is the owner of Dantooine’s Revenge, one of the larger cantinas on Nar Shaddaa. She is, Hunter has found, the best being on the entire planet for useful intel. Expensive, but usually worth it. Unless you try to double-cross her, in which case, the Twi’lek will blast you before you could even try. He’s seen it done.
Nils takes a holodisk out of her pocket. “One of those Tallnecks was at my place last night, looking for a clone commando.” She eyes him for a brief moment. “You’re the only clone commando I know.”
Hunter narrows his eyes and studies the holodisk in her hands. A Kaminoan on Nar Shaddaa probably isn’t that strange, but he has a feeling it isn’t Taun We. “Tallneck leave a name?”
“Nope.” Nils takes a step closer to him. “Just asked that I deliver this to you.”
Hunter considers. Getting involved with a Kaminoan scheme is never a good idea, especially now that the Republic is gone. No safety net. If things go south…
But if he ignores this request, the Kaminoan is likely to try again. They are all kinds of stubborn. And that could draw unwanted attention on him.
He sighs and shakes his head, setting a camtono that holds half the payment from the Neimoidian on the ground before taking the holodisk from Nils. “Lay low for a while,” he suggests. "Empire will come looking for them soon enough."
Nils gives him a small smile. "Like to see them try and take me out."
"Hah." Hunter folds his arms. She doesn't know the true power of the Empire. She doesn't know how ruthless the order that he helped put into place is. "Got anything else for me?"
"Nope. Unless..." Nils shifts closer to him and rests a hand on his chestplate, "you wanna stop in for the night."
Hunter chuckles. She tries this every time. Last time he agreed, he was somehow short fifteen-hundred credits the next morning. Though it was quite a good night.
"Nope." Hunter takes a step back and gestures to the camtono. "You watch your back. Tallnecks were in good with the Empire once."
Nils rolls her eyes and picks the camtono off the ground. “Not anymore.”
She leaves and Hunter sighs again, sliding the disk in his pocket before leaving too. This can't possibly be good. Nothing good ever comes from dealing with the Kaminoans. And, really, only one Kaminoan knows about him and would be able to reach out. But last he heard, she was a fugitive from the Empire too.
Trying to figure out his next move, Hunter leaves the alley and begins to head back to the ship. First things first; get off Nar Shaddaa. If this is actually Nala Se, he’s far too exposed here. He could figure out what to do about the message later.
He has this horrible vision of the Marauder being swarmed by shock troopers but when he arrived at the spaceport, there was nothing. No additional security, just his ship. That just unnerves him even more.
It’s been years since he was last involved in Kaminoan mind games and he still hates it. But, he can always put a blaster bolt in Nala Se’s back if this goes south. He kinda likes that idea anyway.
He spends the next half-hour sweeping the Marauder for homing beacons, improvised explosives, a surprise second message from a Kaminoan, thieves stealing his weapons and supplies, or worse, all of the above.
The ship is clean, but that doesn't help him feel any more relaxed.
He waits until the ship slipped into hyperspace before pulling out the datadisk and inserting it into the holotable. And scowls as the recording began to play.
“CT-9936.” The image of Nala Se on the projector makes Hunter want to destroy the entire blasted thing. Yep. He called it. “We have a job for you. Come to Bora Vio.”
Well, shit.
Hunter stares at the recording, thinking over the possibilities. Last he heard, Kaminoans are more wanted than he is, so the odds of this being a trap are small. Hopefully.
There's the chance that Nala Se wants him for some science reason. But with Kamino destroyed and the regs gone, what reason is left?
He doesn't want to do this. He really doesn't. But if Nala Se could track him to Nar Shaddaa, then she can track him to the other places. Ord Mantell's one of the last somewhat-safe locations he has left.
Hunter shuts the recording down, thinking it through in his head. Bora Vio isn't a name he recognises; his best guess is that it's another Kaminoan facility. Kaminoans are secretive enough to have a second base.
Predictably, the message doesn't really tell him anything. Nala Se has a job for him. That's not enough intel for him to make this call.
There aren't any good options here. Which means the last bad option is to follow the instructions. For now. They'll see how this shakes out after he finds out what the doc wants from him.
If she's playing him, he'll kill her. If she's wasting his time, he'll kill her. All he wants is to get her off his back.
So hopefully this goes well.