It was nighttime in Tipoca City. The Bad Batch, who had just returned from several successful missions, were getting ready to sleep. Tech was tapping away at his datapad while seated on Crosshair’s bed. Crosshair, who sat next to Tech, was cleaning his rifle. Hunter was struggling to get a comb through his hair and regretted not brushing it the day before. Weaker was already asleep, and Echo was grabbing an extra blanket for their guest.
On the floor near Hunter's bed, there was a thin mattress that was actually about the same thickness as all the other mattresses, and Omega was seated on top of it. She had managed to persuade the kaminoans to let her spend more time with Clone Force 99, with the promise that she wouldn’t wander off without their permission anymore. 99 also put in a good word for them, saying that Omega would be safe to spend nights with the Bad Batch. So whenever they returned from missions, Omega would sleep, eat, and spend as much time as she could with them.
“Comfortable?” Echo asked, handing her a blanket.
“Yep,” Omega responded, grabbing the blanket from Echo and draping it over her legs. “Can you tell me that one story?”
Echo didn’t need to ask which story she was talking about, even though the batch had told her hundreds of stories over the time that they’d known her. Omega always asked Echo for a certain story each night she was with them. He wondered how she didn’t get sick of hearing it.
Echo asked anyway as he sat on the ground next to her. “The one about the twins, right?” Omega nodded. “You know, you could probably tell that one on your own now; you’ve heard it so many times.”
“It's more fun when you tell it, though,” Omega protested, laying down and pulling the blanket up to her chin.
“Alright. So at one point in time, there were these brothers.”
“And they were clones, like us.”
“Yes, they were clones, and they were batch mates.”
When Echo first told Omega this story, he hadn’t stated that the people in the story were clones, but Omega had asked if the brothers could be clones, specifically batch mates. Now she always made sure that Echo included that the brothers were clones.
Echo continued: “The thing about this batch was that there was a set of twins in the batch.”
“And that’s really rare for clones,” Omega commented.
“Twins are rare for many species, but you’re right there, especially rare for clones because we're created in tubes. Most clone twins don’t make it past being tubies. They usually end up dying in the tubes or a few hours after they're taken out. This set of twins, though, survived. The kaminoans kept their eyes on them when they were really young; they weren’t expecting them to make it that far.”
“But they did.”
“They did.”
By now, Hunter had managed to get through the tangles in his hair and set the comb aside. He landed down and watched fondly as Echo told Omega the same story for the fiftieth time. Crosshair had put his rifle away, and Tech was now leaning against him a bit. His eyelids were drooping, but he still tapped on his datapad, showing no signs of wanting to put it down and sleep. Crosshair watched him for a bit before turning his attention to Omega and Echo.
“The twins grew up right alongside the rest of their brothers.” Echo went on with the story. “However, eventually the twins started to notice that they had abilities that no one else had.”
“Their powers!” Omega said, with eyes full of wonder, just like they were when she first heard the story.
“Yes, their abilities—their powers—were like nothing the twins had ever heard of before. The brothers knew about the Jedi, people who would sense others' emotions and levitate objects with their minds, but their powers were different from those of the Jedi, so they knew that they were like them. They were like anyone except each other. When their batch mates learned about their powers, they were nervous because they didn’t know how the kaminoans or anyone else would react. The twins were scared, too. They didn’t want to become experiments or anything like that. So everyone decided that it was best to keep the twin's abilities a secret to keep them safe.”
“What were their powers?”
“They could read each other's thoughts so they were able to talk without saying a word and when they were with each other they could read anyone's thoughts. Their powers only got stronger as they got older, too. They were able to feel other people's emotions and sometimes hear other people's thoughts even when they weren’t around each other, but their powers were always stronger when they were with each other. Another power they had was the ability to teleport. They could teleport to each other, and if they were close enough to each other and one of the twins was in danger, the twin that wasn’t in danger could teleport the twin in danger to them, so they weren’t in danger anymore.”
“Being able to teleport sounds fun,” Omega said with a yawn. “I wish I could do it; I’d get everywhere so quickly.”
Hunter had begun to drift off to sleep. Wrecker was still soundly asleep. Tech was beginning to fall asleep while he sat staring at his datapad. Crosshair sighed before taking the datapad out of Tech's hands and snapping his figures in front of his face a few times. Tech blinked twice before looking over at Crosshair, who pointed him to his bed. Though he grumbled a bit, Tech did go to his bed and lay down. He was asleep in a few minutes, leaving Crosshair to lie down in his own bed and attempt to sleep as well.
“Yeah, teleportation would be really convenient, wouldn’t it?” Echo said. “The twins were eventually able to teleport to wherever they wanted to, but they had to be together to do that. There were other limitations as well; they weren’t able to teleport too far from where they were standing, and if they teleported too much or just overused any of their powers, in general, they would exhaust themselves and could end up with bloody noses and terrible headaches.”
“That doesn’t sound fun.”
“I bet it wasn’t. They found out their limits, though, and those limits changed as they got older. When they graduated from cadets to soldiers, they promised to use their powers to help their brothers. Their abilities got stronger. They went from being able to teleport about four times an hour to eight, and so on. People's thoughts got clearer, and they were able to talk to each other through their thoughts at a greater distance.”
“What ended up happening to them?” Omega knew what ended up happening to the twins, but she still asked anyway. Maybe part of her hoped that one day the story would change and things would end differently, but it never happened, and she was pretty sure it never would.
“They ended up saving a lot of people. Their whole batch survived, but eventually, their luck ran out and one of the twins got captured. He was hurt so badly that he wasn’t able to teleport back to his twin. Everyone thought he was dead, and while he was captured, his twin fought on, but in one battle he got killed.”
“He never got to reunite with his twin.”
“No, he didn't, and when the other twin was found and rescued, he didn’t have his powers anymore. He kept fighting though.”
“Why?”
“Because he was a soldier and he still had brothers to help. Even if he didn’t have powers or his twin by his side anymore, he had to keep helping his brothers.”
Omega hummed, snuggling into her blankets more. “He found a way to be happy, though, right?”
“Yeah, he found a way to be happy even with everything that happened.” Echo smiled at Omega, who struggled to keep her eyes open. “Go to sleep now, okay?”
He heard a tired okay from Omega as he got up and headed to turn off the lights and go to his own bed. Hunter had fallen asleep before Echo had finished his story, but Crosshair was awake, lying on his side and staring at the wall. He listened to the sound of Echo walking across the room and getting into bed. After a minute, he heard a soft voice.
“Echo.” It was Omega.
“Yes,” Echo responds.
“Is the story true? Or is at least part of it true?”
It was quiet for a bit. Crosshair lay there and listened. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to the question. The rest of the batch probably did too.
Eventually, Crosshair heard Echo's voice again. “What do you think, Omega?”
Omega didn’t hesitate to respond. “I think it kinda sounds like you and Fives.”
“I guess it does.” And that was the end of that. The room went silent except for the sound of Wrecker's snores.
Now Crosshair didn’t believe in people having magical powers (though the Jedi existed, so he probably wouldn’t be too surprised if people with magical powers suddenly appeared); he wasn’t a child, but the story did seem to sound a lot like Echo and Fives. Twins that got separated and never got the chance to meet again. One was presumed dead, and the other actually ended up dead before he could discover his twin survived.
Maybe this was a coping mechanism for Echo. This way, his twin still lived on, even if it was just in a story. Whatever it was, Crosshair never knew if it was a good idea to bring it to Echo's attention that he and probably the rest of the batch knew who the story was about. Would he want to talk about it? Would Echo shut down and deny it? Crosshair didn’t know, and he didn’t really want to risk bringing it up as it involved Fives, and that could be a touchy subject with Echo. Sometimes Echo wanted to talk about him, and sometimes he didn’t.
Omega had brought it up now, though. Maybe nothing would happen. Both Echo and Omega might forget about it by the morning. Whatever happened, Hunter could probably deal with it. He was good at comforting his brothers and sister. Crosshair didn’t need to worry; Echo would be fine. With that thought, Crosshair drifted off to sleep.
…
…
…
It was late, which was perfect because all the shading people were out on the streets, so he blended right in. No one gave a second thought to the guy dressed in mismatched armor lurking in the shadows. He had been told that he looked like a bounty hunter and could give off the vibe of ‘you’d be wise not to approach me.’ Great, he really didn’t want anyone to approach him.
The alleyway he walked down was familiar to him. He’d walked down it so many times at this point that he probably knew it as well as the back of his hand. When he came to a familiar door, he typed in the code and was greeted with the loud sounds of the bar. Normally, the noise didn’t bother him. He’d been in much louder places and heard yelling, explosions, and blaster fire all at once, but tonight he had a headache—a bad one—and it wasn’t getting any better with all the noise. So, he very quickly walked to the back and found who he was looking for.
“Hey, you’re back,” a lady said. She had dark brown skin, and her hair was braided into multiple thin, long braids. Her clothes looked worn, although the guy knew that she’d state that they were actually “well loved.” “How’d everything go?”
“Not as well as it could have,” he admitted. He took off the helmet that he was wearing; they were standing far enough away from everyone that no one would see or recognize him. Not that anyone would report him, as most people in the bar were probably avoiding the authorities too, but better safe than sorry. “You got painkillers? I could really use some.”
“Headache?” She ushered him to a door that led to a living area-like room.
“Yeah. No blood, though.” He was probably too proud of that fact. Months ago, he would have been too proud of not getting a headache and only having some fatigue. He didn’t want to think about what that was implying.
“Good to hear.”
The two walked into another room, which had a kitchen and dining room set up. There was another person there who looked up from cleaning one of the countertops and smiled at the duo.
“Success?” He asked. He was pale with blond, almost white, hair that was currently tied back into a ponytail.
“Yep, got the information you needed,” the guy said, taking a data stick off his belt and tossing it to the blonde.
“Nice, I’ll see what I can piece together.” With that, he put away the rag he was using and left the kitchen area. A second later, the lady appeared at the guy's side with some pain medication and a glass of water.
“Make sure to eat something too, and don’t do any magical zip-zapping for at least a day,” she said. "Give your body a break."
He laughed a little. “Magical zip-zapping? When did you start calling my teleportation powers that?”
She smiled as he took the medication she gave him. “Probably about a week.”
He put his now-empty glass in the sink and headed to the room where he slept. “I’m going to put my armor away, and then I’ll eat something. I promise I’m not skipping dinner; I will be back.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
When he came back, there was already food out, and the lady was seated at the dining table.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the chair next to her.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied sarcastically.
While he ate his meal, she snacked on some fruit and asked about how he was feeling. He answered honestly. He was okay but could be better. Fatigue, headache, soreness in many places, and probably some bruises somewhere, too. Nothing he could manage, but it was nice to know he had people who cared about him.
“I’m serious about what I said, though,” she stated. “No magical stuff for at least a day. You’ll drop dead if you keep doing what you're doing right now.”
“I don’t fear death,” he said, half-jokingly and half-seriously.
“Well, start fearing it!” She gave him a light wack on the back of the head with her hand. “We’re going to need you alive if this whole revealing the truth behind the war plan is going to work.”
They finished eating and cleaned up. The guy stated that he was going to get some sleep, to which the lady wholeheartedly agreed that that would be a good thing for him to do.
“And sleep in tomorrow too; you need the extra rest,” she said to him.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replied. “But my body doesn’t like to sleep in. Waking up early was drilled into my bones as a child. I don’t think that habit is changing any time soon.”
“Just go get some sleep.”
“Goodnight, Sage. Try not to worry too much about my well-being while you’re working.”
“Sure, whatever. Goodnight, Fives, sleep well.”
