HuntressDarkness

Characters: Hunter, Crosshair, Clone Force 99 (minor)

Relationships: Hunter & Crosshair, Hunter/Crosshair (if you squint)

WC: ~ 1.5k

Hunter moves down the alleyways, steps light and purposeful, eyes focused on his destination even while the rest of his senses work in overdrive to keep track of his surroundings. Something is out there. Someone is out there. And it’s driving him crazy that he can’t figure out who his stalker is.

Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to separate from the rest of the Batch, but Cid had been insistent that they needed to do this job as fast as possible. That meant that Hunter sent the others to retrieve the crates and get them aboard the Marauder, while Hunter went to meet up with the client and obtain the holodisk from them. What’s on it, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care to know, either.

He just wants this damn job to be done with already.

A shiver of unease races down his spine, the back of his neck prickling with the certainty that there are eyes on him. He can feel it. His every instinct is screaming at him to abort and get back to the others. There is strength in numbers. Out here alone, he’ll be an easy target. It could be anyone. A mercenary looking to get his gear. A criminal who thinks a lone man like him will be an easy score.

But Hunter is one of the best soldiers in the GAR. Or rather, he was one of the best. Back before.

Before the Empire.

Before –

He cuts off that line of thought right there. He doesn’t know this planet as well as he should have; Tech tried to tell him more, but Hunter waved him away. He regrets that, now.

Tapping on his comm, he contacts the others. “Status?”

“We are on schedule,” Tech replies.

“Good. Get the engines running. I’ll meet you shortly.” Or so he hopes.

“Is there a problem?” Echo chimes in, undoubtedly catching the tightness in Hunter’s voice.

He considers lying, then thinks better of it. They’ll only worry more, and Hunter isn’t stupid. Without knowing the identity of his stalker, much less having any indication of what they’re after, he’s going in blind. He refuses, adamantly, to acknowledge the person who used to take that place, who used to have their backs. His back.

“Someone’s following me,” he admits. “I have it handled.” He absolutely does not, but they don’t need to know that.

“Be careful,” Wrecker says, an edge of anxiety in his voice.

“I will,” he promises, clicking off the comm and increasing his pace. He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to rid himself of the extra tension as he focuses. Around him, he can hear voices. Talking. Yelling. A few screams a distance away. He can smell the sweat and alcohol and perfume all around him in this crowded corner of the city.

Criminals live here. People looking for a good time or wanting to escape from their demons come here. It’s the exact place he could disappear… if only he could outpace his stalker. His heart pounds faster in his chest, and he turns his head, trying to appear casual. He doesn’t look behind him – that’s a rookie mistake. He keeps moving, ducking down one alley and then another as he takes a roundabout route back toward the spaceport.

It’s not too far. He can make it, and the others have undoubtedly already finished their tasks. They can –

A blaster bolt slams into a wall inches away from him, and Hunter startles violently, cursing under his breath as he throws himself to the side, training kicking in as he moves to protect himself. He draws his blaster, twisting around the corner to peer out into the street and search for his attacker.

A few people are looking around in startled shock or fear, scurrying the other direction, and two others are continuing to walk along, ignoring the scene entirely as though it’s normal. It probably is in this corner of the city. He scans for a sniper, searching the rooftops with practiced ease, but he sees nothing.

He waits for a minute before cautiously stepping out from around the corner. Still nothing. No blaster fire. Nothing.

That sets him on edge more than anything else, and the certainty that he's being followed morphs into something else. Something too much like fear for Hunter to be willing to acknowledge it. He sucks in a breath, fingers clenching around his blaster as he turns to continue on his way. It will be best for him to get back to the spaceport as soon as possible, even if it means leaving the safety of the alleyways for open ground.

He half expects his unknown stalker to agree, but when he turns to head out to the bustling streets, filled with people of every species, color, and gender, another blaster shot hits the ground in front of him. Hunter scrambles back, pressing himself against a building as he searches for a sniper once more.

Still nothing.

Yet another shot nearly hits his shoulder when he tries to move. So, he backtracks instead, knowing exactly how foolish and dangerous it would be to make a run for it when he doesn’t even have eyes on his assailant. His heartrate picks up as he moves, darting from one alley to the next, occasional shots corralling him somewhere. If he was scared before, he’s terrified now. The most he’s been able to glimpse is a flash of a dark-armored figure which tells him absolutely nothing about who it is.

He tries shooting back a few times, returning fire and searching for a way to get up to the roofs to end this once and for all. A sniper’s biggest advantage is always that they’re up high which means they’re difficult to hit. If he can even the playing field somehow…

Turning down another alley only reveals a dead-end, and Hunter jolts to a stop, frantically scanning to assess his options. When he tries comming the others, only static answers. He’s being jammed just like he has been for the last Force knows how long. Great. Cornered and alone, Hunter can only rely on himself. And that’s fine. He doesn’t need anyone else anyway. He can do this. On his own.

His stalker led him here for a reason, and Hunter expects him to reveal himself. Probably hoping for an easy victory. But Hunter won’t go down without a fight. Never has, never will.

Blaster held tightly in one hand, Hunter unsheathes his vibroknife with the other and braces himself, body coiled for an attack that he knows is coming with every fiber of his being. He might not know what his pursuer is after, but he can guess that he was brought here intentionally.

So, he waits.

And waits.

Right here, right now, he will be patient.

He’s expecting it when he sees movement, someone gracefully climbing down from a nearby roof, rifle slung over his shoulder as he lands in a crouch. His breath catches in his lungs when he recognizes the figure. Too familiar. Too familiar. Hunter should have paid more attention to the shots, to the way he was corralled here. It was careful, precise. He should have recognized it.

He opens his mouth, but words don’t come.

Crosshair stands, helmet tilting slightly, and Hunter doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s smirking. He doesn’t need to see his face to know that his eyes are dark, filled with a fury and resentment that Hunter still doesn’t understand.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Crosshair drawls as though he didn’t stalk him, as though he didn’t drive him here with a patient, single-minded focus that Hunter knows too well.

His heart is still racing, fear and adrenaline and rage buzzing under his skin. His jaw clenches. “What do you want, Crosshair?” he snarls.

He thought he knew Crosshair, but he was wrong. Maybe he’s never truly known his youngest brother. Once upon a time, he thought that he knew Crosshair better than anyone. Once upon a time, Crosshair knew him better than anyone. Only one of those two was true. How could he have been so wrong?

How is he ever supposed to forget the feeling of betrayal when Crosshair turned on them and tried to kill them?

Crosshair prowls closer, body relaxed in a way that Hunter knows better than to trust. “I’m not here for the Empire,” he answers, shifting. “I’m here… for you.”

His words hold a promise. His tone speaks to the darkness that lives within him now, a darkness that Hunter never saw, never knew. Maybe it was foolish to think they would never see Crosshair again. Hunter should have known that this would happen, that the source of his greatest fears and regrets would come back to haunt him. He should have known that Crosshair wouldn’t simply let him walk away after everything that had gone down between them.

“And here I am,” Hunter states, straightening.

“And here you are,” Crosshair agrees, a vicious smile in his words.