STEALTH and TRACK: BOOK ONE

BONUS CHAPTER EIGHT: Crosshair's Afterword

THIS SHORT CHAPTER TAKES PLACE AFTER CROSSHAIR IS, EVENTUALLY, RETRIEVED FROM THE RUINS OF TIPOCA CITY. HE RESTS INSIDE A PERSONAL QUARTERS ALONE ON A STAR DESTOYER, PREPARING TO RETURN UNDER THE COMMAND OF GENERAL RAMPART...

THIRD PERSON POV

The sharpshooter was exhausted. He managed to contain his composure after the transport shuttle picked him up on the stand-alone platform and to the moment he was escorted to a private quarter to recuperate before he reunited with his commanding general. His Imperial uniform was dented and scuffed, and Hunter had never returned his helmet, pack, or weapon to him. His face was filthy with grime.

The panel door sealed shut and Crosshair surrendered his last bit of strength and collapsed on the bed in the wall, heaving deep breaths, sweating profusely. His bottom lip quivered as the night before replayed through his mind. His final attempt to persuade Hunter to join him and the Empire. Waking up and almost drowning, to be saved by Fern. Enduring the entire demolition of Tipoca City. And witnessing the last sliver of trust and respect Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch had for him...Fern's last words before she departed with them.

Crosshair buried his head in his hands. Don't you dare...You made your decision, and they made theirs. You tried your hardest, and they still...They left you. Again.

Crosshair's fist drove itself into the inside wall at the foot of the bed. The bones in his knuckles on impact sent a nerve shock up his arm.

"I know you believe the Empire is all you have left...But remember that family, is forever. No matter the trials and tribulations." Fern's last words echoed in his ears.

It's true, Crosshair sighed to himself. She's right...The Empire is all I have left. Crosshair forced himself to his feet, his knees buckling under his weight and his vision blurred from dizziness. His hands rushed to his head. Why? Why did they choose wrong? Why, Hunter?

A single tear trickled down his cheek between his fingers. Maybe it would've been better if the chip had never been removed...I would continuously hunt for them and perhaps kill them, but...Perhaps it would've been less painful than this.

Crosshair had been satisfied with the conclusion of his and Fern's discussion from the medical lab. He understood where her point of view was orginating from to an extent. And it seemed like it had been mutual. What he couldn't wrap his head around was why they never even attempted to save him when he was still under the influence...They would rather risk their lives for a reg they had never met before nor knew he was alive. For a former Republic Freedom Fighter from Ryloth. For the existence of the Force, they rescued a former Separatist senator.

What about him? They could've tried to save me. I would've fought back, yes, but if they had truly loved me as a brother, and were the same soldiers I once fought with throughout the war, they would've come for me. My eyes have been open to the truth, but...It's just as Fern had said...I am incomplete.

Fern had mentioned her chip had activated, and she almost killed Hunter...So she and the rest of them would know...how he couldn't help it in the beginning. And yet, Hunter forgot. Fern forgot. They all...forgot...

Crosshair was incomplete. There was a reason why he miscalcualated lots of shots ever since he was separated from the Bad Batch. It was almost as if not having Tech's shoulder to prop his sniper rifle on hindered his enhanced skill....

What now? Crosshair began to pace around his quarters slowly. Once I return to Rampart, I'm sure he'll be shocked to see me alive. Question is, will he still accept me under his command? If Rampart was smart, he'd keep the sharpshooter around. He was strong, and obedient, and had much purpose to fulfill.

"What's more important to you: your purpose...or your family?"

"Shut up, Fern." Crosshair growled out loud. He then remembered he'd never answered her question. She had shed a tear and he, of his own free will, wiped it away. He had an answer, too.

"I want to belong." He breathed to himself. "That is what, is most important to me. Hunter, Fern, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo...If I am no longer a Bad Batcher, what else am I, but a soldier?"

He meant his last words to Fern, that he never saw her as a nuisance. He respected her too much. He respected them all, too much.

Abruptly, the panel door hissed open and a trooper entered. "Commander, General Rampart is requesting your presence on a transmission at the bridge."

"Acknowledged." Crosshair sighed. "I will be there in a minute."

"He's insisting it's urgent, I suggest—"

"And I said, I will be there in a minute." The clone glared at the trooper. "The general was diligent enough to strand me with Clone Force 99 and then demolish Tipoca City, my—" Crosshair stopped himself just in time before he revealed too much of his feelings. "He can wait a minute for me."

"Yes, sir." The trooper nodded with hesitance and left.

Crosshair splashed his face with cold water, mumbling angrily to himself. Staring at himself in the tiny mirror, he grimaced as he dispersed any last thoughts of the Bad Batch from his mind. He no longer would see their faces if he could help it. Now...

"Time to fulfill your purpose."