Chapter Text
Hunter didn't even remember what kriffing planet they were on. All he knew was that he was ready to shoot something. Preferably a battle droid, seeing as they had been sent out into this scorching forest for recon, intel suggesting that the Seppies had some sort of presence here.
The kriffing issue was that their CO for this mission, a clone commander that seemed a little too eager to please his general, had ordered Hunter's squad to split up and scatter through the forest to cover more ground. Normally, Hunter would have been inclined to agree with the sentiment—but, besides the whole nightmare that was this stupid forest and how difficult it was to traverse, Hunter wasn't exactly fond of the fact that he hadn't been the one to give the order. It meant it wasn't him that thought about the decision, it wasn't him that thought about how their individual strengths could be best put to use here, and it certainly wasn't him who thought about the fallout if something bad had happened to any of them.
Unfortunately, there was nothing to do about it but to frequently check on the others over comms and hope for the best. And so far, things had been eerily quiet. His senses hadn't picked up on anything, either—on missions like this, that usually meant that there was nothing, but he didn't really feel like getting his hopes up. Not after the argument (if he could even call it that) that he had with the clone commander before they set out.
There was a karking reason he and his boys preferred to do things the way he wanted. Sure, things went wrong all the time, it wasn't exclusive to when they had to begrudgingly follow the orders of a CO; but something bad was almost guaranteed to happen whenever they weren't given free rein to handle threats according to their own methods.
A faint buzz suddenly shot through his skull: he stopped in his tracks, allowing the sensation to settle so that he could determine where the electric feedback was coming from. It kept fizzling, fading in and out like an unreliable signal. One step to the left, then right, left again, further left—there. It was coming from the east. He turned his comm on. “I’m picking up something to the east. Could be nothing, but be prepared to close in on my coordinates just in case,” he said, waiting for all three acknowledgments from his brothers to come through before proceeding.
After walking for another click or so, following the steadily strengthening electrical feedback, he stumbled into an incredibly bright clearing – it was midday, the sun was beating down on the planet like no tomorrow – where he found a field of large, deep craters, the biggest one in the center home to a small metal building that screamed suspicious Seppie business, going by the architecture and lack of color.
“I got something,” he whispered into his comm, ducking down into the brush as he surveyed the area. The feedback was definitely coming from the building, so some sort of activity was happening here—something important, judging by the pair of commando droids that he spotted across the clearing. He watched as they walked between the craters, seeming to be patrolling along the edge of a wide circle around the largest crater.
Briefly, he considered taking the droids on by himself. He had faced plenty of these models before; he knew well how to handle them, so taking down just two would be a cakewalk. Then again, the closest brother was easily forty-five minutes away, and if something did happen to go wrong, he didn’t like the idea of them being that far when it happened. And Wrecker would be mad at Hunter for not letting him join in on the fun.
Probably best to lay low for a bit.
“I’m at a clearing with a bunch of craters. There’s a building with a strong electric field coming off of it in the largest hole, with two BX commandos patrolling around it.”
“On my way.” Crosshair sounded miserable. Me too, Cross.
Wrecker also announced his pending arrival, much less the misery, and Tech chimed in as well.
“I am heading to your position,” his brother said, faint beeps from Tech’s datapad leaking through the comm. “Commando droids are typically not deployed in pairs—there may be more in the area, Hunter. Be careful.”
“Got it. I’ll be—shit,” he cut himself off and ducked further into the brush—there were suddenly more footsteps shuffling around in the grass somewhere to his right, much more than there should be if there had just been two.
“Hunter?”
“You’re right, Tech, I got company,” was all he was able to get out before he had to bolt from his hiding spot, a fresh, burnt hole in the bush he had been under just seconds before.
The two previously undetected commando droids bolted after him through the brush. They were drifting apart as they chased after him; clearly one was trying to flank him and get him out into the clearing, separating him from any cover he could get. Hunter couldn’t let that happen—he crouched behind the trunk of a tree, drawing his rifle and firing at the droid further from the edge of the clearing. It managed to avoid his first few shots as it ran, but a hit in the shoulder stopped it in its tracks. Hunter got another shot in its head for good measure and it slumped to the ground.
He stood up and whipped around, bringing his hands up in time to block a punch from the second droid, which had caught up with him. It tried to grab at his shoulders and he blocked that too, grunting as its metal paw squeezed his hands tight. Before it could do anything else, he kicked it in the waist. It took a step back but didn’t let go. Hunter kicked again, but missed and the droid stepped further back, making him fall forward—with a good grip on his arms, it flung him around and shoved him into the clearing. As he tumbled into the grass he heard the other two droids he spotted earlier springing into action.
This was bad.
The droid who threw him was hot on his heels, eager to ensure he stayed down. Not willing to give it a chance, Hunter quickly got his feet underneath him, drew his vibroblade and sideswept its legs. The blow only brought the droid down to a knee but it was enough for him to use its shoulders as support while he pushed himself to his feet and stabbed the droid in the head, snuffing the light behind its optics. Two to go.
He had no choice but to face the remaining droids head-on—so he hunched over, trying to make himself as small of a target as possible as he slowly shuffled back, shifting to avoid the bolts flying after him and firing back whenever he could spare the attention for it—he was pouring all of his focus into trying not to get hit at this point. He was getting grazed, but his armor was managing to absorb the blows.
A lucky shot pierced the leg of one droid, downing it for the moment and allowing him to focus more on the remaining one. Its friend being incapacitated didn’t seem to deter it; in fact, it only seemed to have sped up. Hunter landed about two shots in point-blank range before it got up close and personal with him, swinging at his arm to try and disarm him. Hunter ducked under the blow and stepped aside, swiftly wrapping his arms around its chassis – pinning the arm that held its gun in the process – in attempts to wrestle it to the ground. The clanker took heavy steps back, digging its feet into the dirt with each one, before it got ahold of his backplate with its free arm, tugging harshly. It made him lose his grip just enough for it to push his arms off. It raised two coiled fists above its head, and Hunter stepped back—
Only tor realize entirely too late that it was exactly what the droid wanted him to do, as his foot failed to find a landing place, toes scraping against the craggy rock wall of a crater. He immediately brought up his gun and pulled the trigger—
Landing a headshot, but not before it had launched at him, landing in his stomach like a giant missile and sending him sprawling over the edge. His back slammed against the wall as he went down, and quickly pushed himself into a backflip so that he wouldn’t land on his head. His left foot took the brunt of the fall and he felt something crack in his ankle. Unable to fully hold back the scream that bled through his clenched teeth, he curled up in a heap, breathing through the fresh, white-hot pain shooting through his foot.
Get it together. There’s still one more droid up there…
Sure enough, the sound of rustling grass was growing louder. He pushed off the droid that had fallen down with him – it had fallen on his right side and he was sure his arm was going to be marred with bruises later – and readied his rifle again, aiming it up in the direction he had fallen from, and waited, steadying his breathing.
Waited some more.
Listened to the uneven click-click of the droid’s footsteps; it was limping thanks to the shot he got on its leg.
Waited a bit more—
Sending off a shot the moment he saw its head over the edge, only daring to breath when he heard it crumple to the ground and not get up.
He set his gun aside and carefully folded his left leg, bringing his throbbing foot closer to him. He gently removed his boot, having to bite down on his lip when it brushed painfully against his ankle. It was already swelling.
Sighing, he raised his comm – it was blinking, his brothers had been trying to contact them during the fight – and turned it on. “Four droids down. I don’t hear any more in the area, but be alert.”
“Sitrep, Hunter?”
“I just gave you one, Tech,” Hunter growled, trying really hard not to think about the pain shooting through his foot.
“He’s asking if you are okay, Hunter,” said Crosshair, and his voice was dripping with impatience. Crosshair was worried. As his brother had every right to be, Hunter supposed, since he had to go radio silent immediately after announcing that the enemy found him.
Hunter hesitated, for a moment, before swallowing. His throat was dry and the sun beating down on him was going to sap him of his energy unless he hydrated himself. “I got pushed into one of those craters; I’m still figuring out the extent of the damage. My ankle’s definitely broken. One of the clankers squished my arm and it’s probably going to look like a work of art later.”
“Are you able to get out of there?” Wrecker asked.
With his ankle the way it was, Hunter would need support to haul himself out of the crater. Good thing they each brought along grapple guns on these scouting missions.
He went to retrieve his, only for his hand to find an empty spot where the gun should be. He frowned, looking at his belt, patting at his sides. His right hand grazed against something wet right near where the gun should be, and he cursed, plucking his canteen from his belt pouch. The cap got knocked off sometime during the fight and a good bit of water had spilled out, soaking through the pouch. The same blow must have knocked his grapple gun loose, he realized—and a quick glance around the empty crater he was in was enough to tell him it hadn’t fallen down here with him.
“Not without my grappling line,” he said, shaking his canteen a bit to gauge how much water was left. As parched as he already felt after the fight, it wasn’t nearly enough to last him until a brother got here to help. Nonetheless, he tore his bucket off and took a small sip, making sure to press the cap back on as hard as he could. “I lost it in the fight. My canteen got opened too; I don’t have much water left.”
Hunter could vividly imagine his little brother’s face as Crosshair hissed into the comm, “Dank Farrik.” The mental image was amusing, certainly, but it brought little relief, especially not after Tech spoke again.
“Hunter… You said you were in a clearing, correct?”
“Yeah,” Hunter said with a frown, already not liking where Tech was leading with this.
“That leads me to assume that you do not have much shade available to you, especially not now—it is midday and the day cycle is very long on this planet.”
“Yeah, I know; I’m gonna get cooked out here. I’ll try to stretch out my water as long as I can but,” he sighed, “I’m karking thirsty, Tech. Who’s the closest to my position right now?”
“Tech and I just met up,” said Crosshair. “We’re twenty-five minutes out.”
“I think I’m the same,” Wrecker added.
“All right. See you boys soon,” said Hunter, leaning back against the wall, resigned.
This was going to be a long wait.
Twenty-five minutes. He had to make his water last for twenty-five minutes—well, he was supposed to. He had decided to wait five minutes between each small sip, but he ran out on the second one.
Without any more water, he had no way to stave away the heat—and it didn’t take long to start getting to him. It was getting a bit hard to focus on his surroundings, to parse each little noise that the forest around him produced. The passage of time seemed to slow to a halt, and he had to lay down, the grass stinging his face lightly. On top of all of it, his limbs and stomach were starting to cramp. As if he needed any more pain after the broken ankle.
Soon enough, the towering tree canopies above him were swirling and spinning, as if he was on a shuttle spiraling out of control. Between the persisting cramping in his limbs and stomach, and his blacks nearly soaked through with how much he was sweating, everything was generally uncomfortable. Which, for Hunter and all of his senses dialed up to eleven, was saying a lot. He wished he had the energy to tear his hair out. Or scream. Or maybe both.
Thinking was starting to get a bit foggy too, which he vaguely realized was concerning—really karking concerning, and damn it if his reservations about this whole operation weren’t getting more and more justified the longer he remained out here. Kriff this. Kriff this mission, this planet, that clone commander that split them up. This was precisely why he would have preferred his squad to stay together for this. Now he was sweating his ass off in a force-damned crater with a broken ankle, an empty canteen and his brothers who-the-kriff-knows-where. Definitely not here.
Okay. Maybe he was spiraling a bit. In attempts to distract himself, Hunter pressed his back into the rocky wall, focusing on the uneven grooves digging into his back and spinal chord. Just ignore all the other ugly sensations running through his body. Try not to dwell on things. Or think at all.
The passage of time became non-existent again as he continued to lay there, trying to squish himself up against the wall. He focused on that, the dull pain of the rock digging into his back. Ignoring his warm, wheezing breaths and the way his arms started to shake after a while. Focus. Focus. Focus.
Focus.
The grass rustled from somewhere above him and his hands flew to his rifle. Turning off the safety, he aimed it upward—
Finding the towering form of Wrecker, his arms raised in placation. Immediately Hunter melted, dropping his rifle and letting his limbs flop on the ground. His brothers were here. He was safe.
He could hear Wrecker deploy a grapple line, then Wrecker’s boots scraping against the rock wall as his brother descended. “Sorry to startle ya Sarge. Tech’s checking out the building. He thinks it’s an outpost or somethin’.”
“Makes sense,” Hunter wheezed out, and kark did he sound awful. It certainly matched how he felt, at least.
Wrecker walked up to him, then got down on all fours, matching his eye level. “You up for a trek to the ship or do ya need me to carry ya?”
Right. Walking. That was a thing he still had to do.
With great effort, Hunter pushed himself up on his shaking arms, taking a moment to catch his breath. He looked at his broken ankle, considering it. He moved his leg, putting the slightest amount of pressure on his heel.
Regretted it.
“I’m gonna take you up on the free ride, I think,” he hissed out through his teeth, nearly uprooting the grass beneath him with how hard he was gripping it.
“Gotcha.” Wrecker leaned back on his knees and wrapped his arms around Hunter, one around his back and the other under his thighs, lifting him up—Hunter had to bite back a groan as the pain shot through his limbs again, and he buried his face into his brother’s shoulder, focusing on the smell.
“Wreck, you need deodorant,” Hunter moaned into his chestplate.
Wrecker laughed, “I think we all do after this, sarge.” He felt his brother scaling the wall, the hand on his back absent—someone must be helping him up.
“How is he?” Crosshair asked, somewhere from Hunter’s right.
“Really warm.” And if that wasn’t the understatement of the century… “We gotta cool him down.”
“Get him back to the ship. I’ll cover Tech while he checks out the building.”
Things got really fuzzy after that. The pain had seemed to fade into the background, though, and with the relief it brought, Hunter was content to let himself drift.
By the time he seemed to be able to actually focus on his surroundings again, Wrecker was wiping his face and neck down with a cool, moist towel as he sat by the base of a bunk, his headband and most of his armor discarded. He wasn’t sure when exactly they had been removed but it must’ve helped with his body temperature, seeing as he felt aware of things again.
He blinked owlishly up at his brother, blowing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Wreck, can—can I have some more water?”
“Oh, yeah.” Wrecker retrieved his own canteen and raised it to Hunter’s face. It probably wasn’t necessary at this point; Hunter didn’t feel that weak anymore, but he didn’t have the energy to care. Not having to use his limbs in any capacity right now felt nice, actually. He took a few generous sips from the canteen, and grieved its absence as soon as Wrecker pulled it back. “I’ll let you have more in a bit,” Wrecker said, continuing to run the cloth over his face. “Tech said you might be nauseous.”
And he might have been, but he was still thirsty, but Hunter didn’t really want to argue about it right now. Instead he let himself relax as Wrecker cooled him off—at some point his brother cooled the towel down some more and lifted his the top of his blacks off to wipe across his arms and back, which felt amazing, and he got so lost in the relief he didn’t even realize that Tech and Cross had returned until Crosshair came in and started squawking at Wrecker.
“You didn’t put his hair up? Karking hells, Wrecker. That can’t be comfortable for him; don’t you see how wet it still is? It looks gross.”
“I don’t know where he keeps his scrunchies,” Wrecker protested, and Hunter wheezed out a small laugh.
“In the ‘fresher, Wreck. We’ve told you this before.” Hunter fumbled for his brother’s arm, and Wrecker nudged him in the shoulder, pushing him back against the bunk. “Wrecker…”
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy. I’m just making sure you’re actually doing it, Sarge.”
The cot behind him creaked, and there were suddenly hands drawing his hair back. “Allow me,” Tech said, unenthused. “Your hair could do with a wash, certainly; but that can wait after you feel sufficiently rested. As long as it does not bother you enough to prevent you from sleep, that is.”
Hunter hummed. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
Tech didn’t say anything in response, finishing up the bun he was carefully looping Hunter’s hair into.
“What’d you find in there, by the way?” Hunter asked.
Tech leaned back, finished doing up Hunter’s hair. “Coordinates for a Separatist base on the planet, approximately forty clicks from the battalion’s current position. I am not sure if they are aware of it, but I will be sending the info to them.” Tech had gone around to Hunter’s front, staring worriedly at his foot. It was much more swollen than he remembered it being, and when Tech went to touch it, he had to bite down a yell—it hurt a lot more, too.
“I can’t provide the medical treatment Hunter needs for his foot here,” Tech said, and Crosshair scowled.
“They’re not gonna be happy that we’re coming back so soon.”
Tech looked back at him, sporting a similar frown. “Not if they are pleased with what we have discovered.”
“Whatever.” Crosshair took off his Firepuncher, setting it on the floor by Hunter. “C’mon Tech. Let’s get the kark out of here.”
Tech was quick to follow, and Hunter must’ve fallen asleep not long after, because the next thing he knew, he was in a fresh pair of blacks, back pressed flush to Wrecker’s chest, feeling blessedly cooler and incredibly cozy. He squirmed a bit, turning around to face his brother, tucking his head under Wrecker’s chin. “Thanks, Wreck,” he sighed, contentedly, an arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulder.
“No prob, Hunter. Don’t scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try my best,” Hunter laughed, before losing himself to the inviting embrace of sleep once more.