Chapter Text
Once his brothers disappear inside the warehouse, doors creaking shut behind them, it’s game over.
Omega flops back to sit in the grass, catching herself on her palms. No matter how inconspicuous she’s trying to be, she is - once again - a horrible liar. ‘Pretending’ is hardly something she excels at. It’s rather obvious why she wants to steal this time with him, and he’s not sure whether to admire her quick thinking to trap him, or fret over the fact that this leaves him solely responsible for her until his brothers return.
A little bit of both, perhaps.
“Do you think the target will be too hard to find in there?” Omega wonders aloud, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.
Leaning backwards to support himself on the outside of the warehouse, Tech makes a small noise. “Supposedly it should not be, no,” he replies, removing his helmet and tucking it under one arm. “None of these facilities have been in use for many years. Anything else left inside is likely overgrown. I am sure it will be easy to discern the client’s crate among any others.”
Omega hums in acknowledgement. She’s sitting a good five feet or so away from him, legs crossed as she begins picking mindlessly at a clump of grass.
“Do you think Hunter and Wrecker will be able to get it okay?” she then asks, and the way her eyes flit about without purpose goes to show how hard she’s trying not to look right at him. “What if it’s really heavy?”
“Nothing is too heavy for Wrecker,” he answers plainly. He stares ahead, locating a fungus on a tree trunk to focus on. “It will not be an issue. Even if we do not know what is in it, the chance that it is too heavy for Wrecker and Hunter to lift together is even slimmer than the chance that Wrecker cannot lift it alone.”
He barely gets his sentence out when Omega pipes up again. “Is he mad at you?”
Tech knew the question was coming sooner than later, but he has to resist the urge to start bouncing his leg nonetheless. “Wrecker is not mad at me.”
He chooses to play dumb; the finest form of avoidance.
“That’s not who I mean,” she grumbles, and he suspects it’s accompanied by an eyeroll. Echo is rubbing off on her far too much.
Clenching his teeth, he feels a chill run up his arms. She isn’t trying to make him feel bad, and he knows that. She’s too curious for her own good, especially when it comes to her siblings. He certainly understands that feeling.
“Sometimes squadmates disagree,” he says simply, and with no emotion at all.
Not that it matters.
“What’d you fight about?”
“Nothing of importance.”
Omega audibly scowls. “It seems pretty important.”
“I assure you it is not,” and it is. It is of every importance. She cannot know that.
A few seconds of silence pass, Omega still picking at the grass, Tech keeping his eyes trained forward. This isn’t a conversation they’re going to have, for her own good. And maybe she recognizes that-
“Well I don’t believe you.”
Tech snaps his head down to look at her, tree fungi all but forgotten. She isn’t looking at him, but there’s boldness and determination written all over her face.
In all honesty, he is wholly and truly shocked. The one thing that Omega hasn’t seemed to do much of is talk back to any of them. Once or twice about inconsequential topics, maybe, and she has the expectedly dreadful tendency to not follow their directions, but she’s a good kid. For her to essentially up and call him a liar? He can hardly believe it.
He blinks and frowns, shifting his weight to the foot threatening to bounce. “And why is that? You have no reason to think me dishonest.”
And he is. He is dishonest. But until now, never with Omega.
This is different. This is for her own good.
But that’s what he thought about conducting his research in private, too, isn’t it?
“I don’t think you’re a liar,” she says, scrunching up her face. “But you’re sad, or upset. Or something. I can tell. You’re just not happy. I know you try not to look like you are, though.”
His throat feels dry. “Do I appear to be sad?”
Omega shrugs. “Not really. I can just kinda tell.”
She can ‘just kinda’ sense it. That’s what.
“I am not sad. Hunter and I had a disagreement, as I have already said. It is frustrating, yes, but I am hardly sad.”
The word ‘liar’ reverberates in his brain like a small ball bouncing around in a metal container.
“Why’d you believe me when I said the bug was upset but not now?” she retorts, on the cusp of plain arguing with him. “It’s okay to be sad.
“Nala Sé always said not to get upset ever, but you guys always tell me that it’s okay. And I believe you. Doesn’t that mean you can be sad, too?”
It feels like he’s been slugged in the gut, winded and caught off guard, his entire sense of direction: gone.
Tech and his brothers have never been particularly emotional. Omega has softened them up, certainly, but the majority of their lives were nothing like they are now. Regs had feelings, and often wore them proudly, but not the Bad Batch. Never the Bad Batch. They either kept it to themselves because they were tough enough to handle it, or they confided with each other in private.
And Tech? Tech in particular. He has firm control over his emotions, more so than all of his siblings combined. He knows how to rationalize before he acts, to put logic before impulse and feeling.
Or at least, he should.
Even if Omega did change their collective perspective on things, it did not change his behavior regarding his own emotions by much. He is fine dealing with them as he always has.
Regulation. Control. Rationale.
Before he can find something to say, to try and chase away the notion of sadness and ignore her uncomfortably wise consideration of his feelings, he finds her pushing herself up off the grass. She takes the five or so feet to stand next to him, gaze moving up to meet him. Right beside him, he is reminded of just how small his little sister is in comparison.
And then she begins to wring her hands, nervous, apprehensive, and entirely unsure of herself. But that doesn’t seem to stop her this time around. She continues to hold eye contact.
“I-I know you don’t like hugs and that stuff but… if you want one-“ she blurts out, some kind of slightly displaced hope in her expression. “Ya know.”
Maker above, she’s making it really fucking difficult for him to keep his distance.
He stutters. “I- you should-“
“It’s fine,” she cuts in quickly. “You don’t have to-“
Her voice is so reserved, so much less confident than it was just moments ago, and it breaks his heart. Now she’s the one who’s upset.
And it’s all his fault.
Something in his mind snaps into two pieces, an even break.
That’s all that he can take.
Screw it. He can handle Hunter - or any of the others, for that matter - being disappointed in him. Let down. But Omega? She looks up to them, relies on them.
All of them. All means Tech, too.
“I think a short hug would be nice.”
Omega whips her head up at him, eyes filled with excitement that she’s trying but failing terribly to hide. He nods, sincere, and her face lights up at his confirmation.
She barrels into his waist, squeezing with all of her might.
Tech puts his hands on her arms, returning the embrace with a new kind of confidence of his own.
Forget keeping his distance, treating her like cracking glass. It’s an impossible task, and she would never let him get away with it. So he gives in.
Maybe- no. He wants to. Really and truly.
Holding the precious little girl - his little sister - in his arms, he makes a promise to himself. From this point forward, more so than before, everything that he does is for her. To keep her safe, and with her best interest in mind.
Tech will never understand how it is for Hunter, that much is true. He is not her father, her buir. But he is her big brother, and it’s his job to fight for her.
Fighting is what they were trained for, after all.
Hunter was right. Tech should have told him and his brothers about her much sooner, and for that, he is sorry. But Hunter is also wrong. Tech is not careless with her life. He is careful, watchful, and he will not let any harm befall her so long as he can help it. If Hunter meant what he said, then Tech will see him in one of Corellia’s seven hells.
And if he didn’t?
Well then, Tech is willing to talk.
He knows Hunter. He cares about Hunter. And he strongly suspects the latter.
But for now, he is focused on Omega. After a few short seconds, she backs away from him. Smiling. “You’re a great brother, Tech,” she says quietly.
His heart clenches.
“You are a wonderful little sister yourself, Miss Omega,” he chokes.
She smirks. “Technically older-“
“None of that now,” he shakes his head, poking her lightly on the forehead. “I am physically older than you are, and therefore, the elder brother.”
Omega rolls her eyes in that very ‘Echo’ manner again, but she doesn’t mean anything by it.
“Well I saw you when you were a baby so-“
Tech hears her, keeps his eyes on her, but his attention is suddenly seized by another sound somewhere else nearby.
It’s quiet, almost like a whisper, but it is so vastly different from the nature around them, so different from Omega’s excited chatter, that it’s nearly impossible to miss.
A low, guttural growl.
“Omega,” he says, deadly serious and without emotion. “Please be quiet.”
Omega blinks in surprise. “Wha-“
He grabs her by the shoulder and pushes her behind him with one hand, replacing his helmet over his head with the other. She stumbles, almost tripping over his feet as he shoves her urgently back.
“Tech wha-“
“Shhht.”
She snaps her mouth shut, grasping his belt with one hand.
Another growl, and a few hard footsteps in the dirt.
He flips his visor down and scans the surrounding area for heat signatures. An idle hand hovers over his blaster, and he turns his head this way and that.
“Is there someone here?” Omega whispers, trembling against the back of his leg.
He doesn’t answer her, continuing to thoroughly scan his surroundings for a sign of whatever it is growling in the trees. He has his suspicions, but without knowing where or what it is, he remains unable to act accordingly. In a dense forest like this, the possibilities as to what could be lurking in the shadows are endless.
Slowly, he backs up closer to the outer wall of the warehouse, bringing Omega with him. She presses her forehead against his back, and he feels her reach for the strap of her energy bow across her chest when his elbow brushes his leg.
“Do not,” he instructs quietly, and she freezes in place. “Whatever it is may be less compelled to approach if it does not sense a threat.”
Omega mutters, clearly annoyed, but drops her hands anyway.
His HUD view isn’t picking anything up, but he doesn’t doubt the presence of some creature or another among the bushes. Why can’t he find it?
Reluctantly, he raises one hand to the comm on the side of his helmet, pressing gently. “Havoc One,” - Hunter’s call sign - “we have a situation-“
“Tech!”
Omega shrieks and Tech whips around just in time to watch a giant creature lurch towards them on all fours, roaring with a hungry ferocity.
Tech grabs Omega and rolls to one side, guarding her underneath him with his body. Dirt flies up below his boots, and Omega covers her face with her hands.
He pushes himself up out of the grass and turns hastily towards the creature, drawing his blaster and flipping his visor up and out of the way in one fluid motion. He keeps Omega behind him still, and he absentmindedly notes that she too scrambled off the ground.
The creature huddles in a bush, but faces them, and he’s able to get a good enough look to identify it.
A strill, taller than normal and plenty long, stares angrily back at him. Its mouth hangs open, baring sharp teeth and a thick pink tongue. It smells terribly, even from here; they always do, but the stench of a wild strill is always worse than one that’s been tamed as a pet.
He’s seen strill before. Mandalorian hunting creatures, similar to that of a mastiff, they are more often than not seen trained. A Mandalorian he met once briefly during the Clone Wars - a man by the name of Walon Vau - owned one, and that by itself had been enough strill for Tech’s entire lifetime. In the wild, they are very rarely found, and choose to keep to themselves as they tend to hunt small animals and steer clear of larger sentients.
Tech glances back at Omega.
Small creature.
“Stay behind me, do not engage,” he orders, training his blaster on the strill. Its back is hunched, and he’s surprised it hasn’t already leapt for them. “You are prey to it. I am a threat.”
“It doesn’t look threatened!” Omega hisses.
“That is because it is more worried about an adequate supper than it is me,” he answers in a clipped tone.
Omega swallows audibly.
Squeezing his blaster, holding the strill’s gaze, he sighs deeply. “I will not allow it to harm you, I promise you that,” he murmurs, hoping that he doesn’t sound as deadpan as he feels; hoping that it sounds reassuring. “Follow my instructions carefully, and you will be alright.”
A beat passes between them. “Okay.”
“Good.”
The strill shakes its hind legs, growling again and narrowing its eyes. Its dirty skin almost allows it to blend in with the scenery, but its shining eyes betray its desired secrecy.
Strill are fast, and made to hunt. Omega is short, her legs not terribly long. Logically, she has the disadvantage, but he knows better than to tell her as much.
He takes quick stock of his surroundings. Strill. Warehouse. Window with a hole too small for him to fit through, but big enough for her. So long as she follows his directions, she should be able to escape to relative safety.
‘So long as’; she has a scary tendency not to listen in these kinds of scenarios. This time, he needs her to listen.
He prays silently to the Maker that she will.
“When I give you the signal, make for the warehouse,” he whispers, never taking his eyes off the strill. “Crawl through the window, and find Hunter. I will keep it distracted.”
“But-“
“I will be fine,” he insists, and he can imagine the look on her face; begging and frightened. If he looks, he risks caving. “It does not want anything to do with me.”
The strill takes two small steps forward.
“Omega-“
“O-okay!”
Tech places his index finger over the trigger of his pistol, and the strill lowers its belly to the ground.
“B-but I’ll get Hunter and come ba-“
“Go!”
Omega’s urgently heavy footsteps smack the dirt behind him, and the strill lunges forward at the same time.
With a precise aim, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Tech takes a few rapid fire shots at the creature. They do little in way of harming it, the bolts barely doing any real damage to its tough skin, merely bouncing off and leaving what he suspects are superficial burns.
The strill hisses and leaps to the side, opposite the direction of Omega and her destination, much to his relief. Of course, there is the trade off.
He is now the target, and unlike his brother, he is not large enough to wrestle this creature.
There remain two options: hold it off until the others are made privy to the situation, or drive it away. The latter is preferable, given how the former could take some time. Unfortunately, he isn’t sure he’ll have a choice.
The strill surges forward and Tech just barely rolls out of the way, hitting it between the eyes with a blaster bolt. It appears unfazed, however, almost as if its hunger outpaces any pain it may feel.
“Havoc Two! What’s going on out there?!” Hunter’s voice crackles over the comm.
Either Omega has reached them, or Hunter heard the commotion. Regardless, he is, rather ironically, relieved to hear his elder brother’s voice.
But Tech doesn’t have the time to respond, one hand bracing his body against the grass whilst the other holds the pistol in steady earnest.
“Tech! Come. In!”
He cannot, and for that he is truly sorry, because he is sure his siblings are rather stressed at the moment. Although, keeping the beast at bay as well as Omega and himself alive does take precedence. He assumes she’s made it to the warehouse by now at the very least, thankful for that much.
He begins to push himself up off the ground with one hand, but the strill unfortunately recognizes an opening when it sees one.
It lunges forward, making direct contact with his torso. Unsteady in his current position and unable to match the sheer weight of the thing, he is knocked over on his back in an instant. His pistol flies out of his hand and his whole body is pinned in seconds.
Desperate for self preservation, he attempts to wrestle with the thing, lifting his head as far forward as he can while grabbing its shoulders to keep his mouth away from his face. Despite being protected by a helmet, its teeth are not all that dissimilar to knives.
He squeezes the strill hard, hoping to dissuade or discomfort it enough to get it off of him, but he’s out of luck. It throws its head forward, smacking his own head down.
The back of his helmet hits the ground, and Maker, it stings. His vision feels fogging, his head light.
Tech tries to blink away the cloudiness, but to no avail. A darkness begins to overtake him, and just before it does, he vaguely notes the pink bolt of energy knocking the creature harshly in its side.
Then, the world goes black.