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Crosshair fiddled with the toothpick in his mouth as he leaned on Gonky, arms crossed. He kept a watchful eye on the area around the Marauder, while Tech was crouched under the ship. The Bad Batch had taken some heavy fire after their latest mission and had to land on a nearby planet for repairs, and a supply run while they were at it.
Tech stuck a hand out from under the ship, calling for a tool. Without looking down, Crosshair picked up the tool from on top of Gonky and passed it down. They hadn’t landed in town to avoid drawing too much attention, they had valuable cargo from that last mission that they had to deliver and couldn’t risk having it stolen. Despite that, he couldn’t help but stay on edge, pirates and thieves were all too common in places this far out, and the war had only made them bolder. Or so he’d heard.
He finally glanced down at Tech when he crawled out a little from under the ship to look up at him. “Could you go get the spark plugs from the hold? I do not believe there are any in the kit I grabbed.”
Crosshair grunted and did one last sweep before heading inside, Tech disappearing back under the ship.
He picked his way through the pile of crates stacked haphazardly in Tech’s part of the hold. His brother was a genius, but he wished he made time for a little organisation. Though, he knew he’d say he has a system if he complained again. He scowled when he opened another crate to reveal more pieces of junk and half-finished projects. He shoved the crate aside and moved to the next, trying to remember what that system might possibly resemble.
A thud followed by swearing from outside the ship made him huff a laugh as he shoved another useless crate out of the way. His brother was always so unflappable until the ship decided to fight back during repairs. Serves him right for making Crosshair go through this mess. His own part of the hold was meticulously organised, as was Hunter’s. Wrecker’s was most similar to Tech’s, and that should say something.
Finally, he found what he was looking for at the bottom of a crate filled with other miscellaneous small parts for the ship, hidden back behind a bundle of plant samples from a mission on a jungle planet weeks ago.
When he got to the top of the stairs with his prize, he paused. It was too quiet. The toothpick followed his eyes as he scanned the surrounding area before moving halfway down the stairs to look towards where Tech was doing repairs. Gonky lay on his side, letting out a distressed “Gonk!” when he noticed Crosshiar, but Tech was nowhere to be seen or heard.
He pulled his sidearm, his Firepuncher sitting beside his bunk inside. He made his way slowly to the bottom of the stairs, staying vigilant, blaster ready. He made his way towards Gonky, tools scattered around the droid where they had fallen off him. His eyes caught a smear of red glistening on the side of the ship.
He couldn’t investigate for long, as a sound behind him had him whirling, bringing his full attention back to his surroundings, blaster raised. In the same movement, he activated a distress beacon on his comm. Hunter and Wrecker were in town on the supply run, but they should be on their way by now. If not, that would get them moving.
Another noise came from above him. He looked up and swore when a shape fell towards him, sending him to the ground. He grappled with the figure for a moment, but they had the upper hand after catching him by surprise. They straddled him, pinning his free hand and grabbing his blaster one, twisting harshly, forcing him to let go, biting back a cry of pain.
As the blaster was thrown to the side, he took advantage of the weight shift and thrust up with his knee and hips, sending the figure falling forwards, and letting him use the weight and momentum to flip them. The manoeuvre was halted halfway as the figure regained their balance and shoved him bodily back to the ground. However, that forced them to let go of one of his hands, letting him grab the toothpick from his mouth and stab it forward into the attacker’s face.
They let out a cry at that, hands flying to their face, letting Crosshair throw them to the side. He got to his feet and quickly spotted his blaster where it had been thrown. He dove for it, snatching it up in his off hand, cradling his other to his chest.
The sound of footsteps had him raising the blaster once more as two more figures appeared. As soon as he knew he didn’t recognise them, he took a shot, hitting the left one in the shoulder as a warning. It worked and they stopped, the one he shot cradling his shoulder, hissing in pain.
“I’d hold it right there if I were you.” The unharmed figure said, clearly the leader of the group judging by the jacket he wore, which was nicer than anything the others had. “We don’t want to have to hurt you, but we will if we must.”
Crosshair scoffed at that, never lowering his blaster. Though he did shift slightly as he caught sight of his original attacker getting up from the corner of his eye.
The leader glanced past him at the Marauder. “That’s a nice ship you got there. Makes one wonder where you came from. Ship that nice’s gotta come from somewhere important.”
Crosshair growled a warning as the leader took a step forward. The man just chuckled condescendingly.
“None of that. Just lower the blaster and nothing bad will happen to either of you.”
The leader gestured and another thief came forward, dragging an unconscious Tech with her. Blood ran down the side of his face from a gash just above his goggles, more staining his side from a wound Crosshair couldn’t see.
He studied the people around him carefully. The one behind him had recovered, but held a hand over their eye, watching him with a scowl. He felt a small wave of satisfaction at that. The one he’d shot still held his shoulder, standing back a few meters from where the leader and his brother’s captor stood, both watching him closely.
He had no idea how far out Hunter and Wrecker were. He hadn’t gotten an acknowledgement, but he could have missed it during the scuffle. He couldn’t let these people take the ship. He just had to keep them away, and get Tech somewhere safe, until they got back. The town wasn’t that far.
He considered his options, scanning over each of the thieves once more. Just as the leader went to speak again, getting impatient at Crosshair’s silence, he raised his blaster and shot the thief holding Tech. He tried not to cringe too much when his brother dropped to the ground, the thief holding him following, a blaster hole burning between her eyes.
The leader shouted something to his people in another language, before pulling his own blaster. Crosshair had no time to aim for him as his original assailant rushed him again. He spun around and fired a shot, but they were too close and he staggered, narrowly avoiding being sent back to the ground as he twisted out of the way just in time.
He hissed when he realised they had claws, unable to see what species they were from under the heavy cloak that covered them. Most of the claws simply scraped along the plastoid of his armour, but one made it into a gap. He gasped at the feeling of it dragging along his side. Thanks to his armour, it didn’t gut him on the spot, but he knew it went deep.
He raised the blaster again as they passed, delivering a bolt to their back and sending them sprawling. He pressed his hand to his side as well as he could with his injured hand, and raised his blaster back towards the leader, who now stood over Tech, blaster aimed at his head. The other thief stood menacingly to the side, blaster ready.
“Move and he dies.” The leader said plainly, the charade of niceties over. Crosshair growled in frustration as he froze. He couldn’t shoot one without the other getting a shot in. He blinked away spots as he tried to figure out the best course of action.
As he watched the pair, he noticed Tech stirring on the ground, eyes, dazed from pain and blood loss, opening to take in the situation. The thieves were too focused on Crosshair to notice, and he refocused his attention to them, not trying to give him away. He silently swore as his hand trembled slightly from the pain, adrenaline and blood loss. If it was his shooting hand, he wouldn’t be having that issue quite yet, unless the injury was worse than he thought.
He watched Tech from the corner of his eye as the standoff continued.
“This is your last chance to drop the blaster, or we’ll kill you both. Simple as that.” The leader continued. Crosshair just scowled at him. Backup would be there soon.
They stood there a moment longer before Tech swiftly reached up and wrenched the gun away from him, causing it to fire into the ground by the other thief. Crosshair used that to take the shot, hitting the leader in the chest. He didn’t get to see him collapse though, as the pain of a blaster bolt exploded in his own chest, sending him staggering to a knee.
His grip remained tight on the blaster, even as pain darkened and blurred his vision. Tech was on top of the leader, wrangling the blaster from his hand and taking aim. The other thief had turned to the pair and was raising his blaster towards him. Crosshair raised his own in a shaky hand and fired three times. Two hit the thief, finally sending him collapsing to the ground.
Another blaster shot indicated the end of the leader.
Crosshair’s eyes fluttered as he dragged his suddenly exhausted gaze over, watching Tech slide sideways off the body. He hit the ground and didn’t rise, but he could see his chest moving. He let himself collapse to the ground, even as new figures rushed towards them. One approached Tech while another came close to hover over him.
“Hey, Cross, stay awake. We got you. You did good, just stay awake. Oh boy.” The voice sounded distant, but familiar, and when he got his eyes to focus on the face, he spotted a white eye and large scar.
He groaned as his wounds were prodded, moving to push the offending hands away, before crying out when it put pressure on his injured hand.
“Sorry, Cross’ika. It’s alright, just stay still. I gotta get you back on the ship.” He barely had time to process what Wrecker said before he was lifted from the ground. He groaned as the movement jostled his wounds.
He closed his eyes against the harsh light of the Marauder and felt himself get placed on a bunk. At the sound of another voice and set of footsteps, he cracked them open just enough to see Hunter lower Tech onto the bunk across from him. He thought Tech had passed out again, until he saw him shift and respond to something Hunter said.
His attention was pulled from them when Wrecker returned to his side and began pulling his armour off. He sighed with relief when his right glove and vambrace were removed, freeing his swollen arm from the tightening confines. He tried not to move too much at the discomfort of his chestplate being removed, revealing the wounds left by blaster and claw.
He heard Tech groan in pain across the bunks before he echoed the sentiment as Wrecker dabbed at the gash in his side. He cried out as the cleaning made the wound burn. At that, Wrecker paused his cleaning, putting pressure on the wound and leaning over to catch his eye.
“Do ya want a hypo?” He frowned when Crosshair shook his head. He already felt too out of it from the blood loss. Reluctantly, Wrecker got back to cleaning the wound, Crosshair holding back his sounds of pain as best he could, though the occasional hiss and groan still escaped him.
Finally, Wrecker began stitching. His stitches were never the neatest out of the Bad Batch, Tech and Crosshair were, ironically in the current situation, the go to options for stitches, both keeping them neat and even. But with both of them out of commission, they made do with what they had.
Crosshair hissed as the first stitch was pulled through, Wrecker apologising and doing his best to be as careful as possible while working quickly. He tried to distract himself by checking in on Tech. Hunter was bent over him, in a mirror of Wrecker and Crosshair, stitching a small, but profusely bleeding, wound in his side, a bacta patch already applied to his head.
Though he did his best, Crosshair soon felt his eyes drooping as his mind grew fuzzier from blood loss, black spots dancing across his vision, more joining with every spike of pain. Wrecker’s apologies grew distant and the room started to darken and fade as his eyes flickered with the effort of keeping them open. Soon, the bright lights turned to a comfortable din, and the sound of Wrecker’s voice into a soothing lullaby, as his eyes finally closed, sending him sinking into unconsciousness.