Work Text:
“Does it hurt?” Wrecker asks, watching Tech clean Hunter’s bloodied knuckles.
Hunter grimaces, but he tries to pull it off as a grin. “No, I can’t even feel anything.”
Crosshair snorts. “You’re such a liar.”
“If you truly did not feel anything, I would be concerned,” Tech puts in. When he sprays disinfectant over the broken skin, Hunter hisses and tries to pull his hand away, but Tech keeps a firm grip on Hunter’s wrist. “Please hold still.”
“I thought you couldn’t feel anything,” Crosshair mutters with a grin.
“Kriff off,” Hunter growls.
“Which reg did you punch?” Wrecker asks.
Hunter shrugs.
“Well, why’d you punch him?”
“Not worth talking about,” Hunter says.
“Oh, so you just punched some random reg in the teeth for no reason,” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes. “If you’re going to keep lying, Hunter, at least make it convincing.”
Hunter glares. “I’m not lying.”
“Then tell us what happened.”
“And then what?” Hunter asks, “You and Wrecker try to find these regs and pick a fight? No. Not happening.”
Tech begins wrapping Hunter’s hand. “Perhaps we can come to a compromise. You tell us the circumstances, but not the parties involved.”
“Why does it matter?” Hunter cries, “It doesn’t matter!”
“Because whatever the issue was, it was worth being outnumbered and fighting back,” Tech replies simply, voice remaining level. “If it matters to you, it most certainly matters to us.”
Hunter takes a steadying breath. “I didn’t punch anyone. I punched a wall,” he bites out. “It was stupid.”
Shocked silence follows the confession, his brothers exchanging glances.
Finally, Tech asks dryly, “And what did this wall do to offend you?”
“It was because of the evaluation this morning,” Crosshair says. He leans forward. “What did those long necks say?”
“What they always say,” Hunter mutters. “Veiled threats, letting me know without directly telling me that if we fail…there’s no point to us. We are experiments that can be thrown away as soon as we aren’t useful. I know they’re just trying to scare me into making sure I keep our records up, to make sure I push you guys in training and simulations. But I’m so kriffing tired of being objects to them.”
“We might be objects to them,” Wrecker says, “but we know better.”
“Wrecker is correct,” Tech says, adjusting his goggles. “Despite the Kaminoans best efforts, we are not exact copies of a desired product. We are individuals. It is a miraculous defect in what they perceived as a flawless design. Even the regs show variance. Whether they acknowledge it or not, it is a fact.”
Hunter glares at the floor. “Facts don’t keep us from being decommissioned, Tech.”
“No, but being the best does.” Crosshair stands up. “And we are the best, and we’ll keep being the best.”
Wrecker laughs. “Yeah, we are! We’re the best squad Kamino has ever seen.”
A grin tugs at the edge of Hunter’s lips. “Yeah, we are the best, aren’t we?”
“That is also a fact,” Tech agrees. He takes Hunter’s injured hand, examining the white bandage already tinged pink with fresh blood. “Next time you forget that, may I recommend a punching bag as a viable alternative to a wall?”
Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”