Chapter Text
‘Being a good soldier doesn’t mean the need to be following all the given orders blindly.‘
Crosshair had been tortured to the max. Dr Hemlock had been furious after Crosshair’s attempt of trying to flee. Dr Karr had tried to warn Crosshair it would happen if he would not cooperate. But, Crosshair had considered it a good trade. His life for warning his Batch. Only hoping the message had gotten through, somehow.
And so, the latest injection most likely the final one Crosshair would ever again receive.
Falling all the way down. Into the deep pit of darkness. Was this finally the death he had been waiting for? The reward of the seemingly endless life of a soldier. Doing the bidding for others without any say? And now dying a meaningless death.
Oh well.
This had not always been the case, not for Crosshair. As somewhere in the past things had been so much simpler. Following only the orders of his Batch leader. Hunter. At least most of the time. The missions together always a success, orders be damned!
The two had disagreed, argued plenty. Not always seeing eye to eye. But it had never been out of malice, out wanting to out do the other. No, it had been the way the two had been since children. It had been their way of showing care and love for each other.
Their small group of misfits, never really belonging anywhere. All different from each other and others like them. All of them precious and unique… and now? Dying because of that very fact.
Oh well. Guess, it was time.
It had all gone to hell right after the Order. The end of the war. The beginning of the Empire.
The darkness forever present, having gotten a hold of his mind.
The blurry times following, those without control, without being able to think straight. Blindly following orders for a cause in which he had no say. It had been good for a while though. Following orders without thought. Acting up all those hidden and dark fantasies. Killing someone in… cold blood.
Then, the accident happened and his chip was gone. The reason behind acting like he had. But was it all because of the chip? Or just an excuse to really be himself? Had there been some underlying need to belong. The doubt of being unique and alone? To be a good soldier and only follow the given orders without a second thought? Even if he had known they were mostly wrong?
But then, Barton-4 had happened.
His last mission for the all Mighty Empire.
His very last mission as a soldier.
And then, Mayday had happened.
Something had shifted.
Something had clicked.
Something which had elicited the change.
And so now here he was. Being tortured, asked questions he had no answers to. No willing answers at least. They had tried. He had tried. Sending the message out. The warning.
Lying there, the last injection having caused total havoc in his body. The fear of dying no longer present. Guess it really never had been there. Only waiting for the inevitable to happen. To be captured in the cold embrace of death.
Falling down, falling fast. Ever deeper, his mind, his thoughts, finally shut down.