Now that he was out in the open, Hunter could faintly hear blaster fire. 

“And we’re just supposed to wait here?” Wrecker questioned as he looked around the clearing, head moving this way and that. Beside him, Tech hummed as his eyes scanned the datapad in front of him, helmet already on. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The general should be here momentarily to give us further information.” 

As if on cue, a man clad in armor stepped through the treeline. His head was held high but there was a limp in his step and blood mixed with ash covering his face, a sign that he had been fighting and fighting hard. The crease in between his brows did not lessen when he spotted the group, but they knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t thankful for their arrival. 

“99?” The man questioned as he drew closer, and it was the sergeant who stepped forward to answer, assuming his role of the leader with ease. 

“Yes, sir. General Stowe, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, sir.” The man’s deep voice echoed his response and respect. It was not a common thought on this planet to discriminate against the clones that made up the Republic Army, but unfortunately you could never be sure when visiting a place for the first time. 

“What happened here?”

General Stowe sighed, the lines on his face deepening, if that was even possible. “About a year ago,” he drawled, “a group of men moved into the capital, and it wasn’t long before people started to figure out they had some…controversial views on the status of our leader. They’ve been aggressive thus far, but nothing ever to this degree; never as violent as this. We believe they made a deal with the Separatists to kidnap the queen because they have a battalion's worth of droids accompanying them.” 

There was a pause, a moment of silence as the brothers processed the words now out in the open, before Hunter looked back at the general, back straight and eyes determined. “Well, let’s get going then, shall we, boys?” he directed it over his shoulder, but his head remained forward as he removed the helmet from under his arm. There’s a response from the men behind him, a confirmation that they were ready for this, and then they were on their way. Stowe nodded his head at the leader when they seemed to catch each other's gaze, side by side as they trekked out of the forest. 

“General Stowe, what exactly are these ‘controversial views’ you speak of?” Tech questioned from the back of the group. 

Another sigh, deep and heavy. Things seemed to be weighing heavy on the older man’s shoulders as he responded. “That she’s a woman.” 

The answer was simple and yet not, all at the same time. That was it? That was the reason? There wasn’t a Bad Batcher one who thought that that made sense. After a spell of silence, where they weren’t sure if the general was looking for a response or even what they would have said, he continued. “They haven’t exactly been shy about voicing their thoughts on Her Majesty, whether it be the way she runs things, things that aren’t even in her control, or the fact that she thinks she’s capable of doing her duty when she's ‘just some kriffing bitch with a crown.’’

The swell of anger was fast and strong as it took up space in Hunter’s chest. This wasn’t about some leader being reckless with their decisions, with the lives of their people, wasn’t about a person in power being cruel and malicious. It was about a woman being targeted for simply existing. 

“We know it’s not just about the queen either. They’ve been aggressive towards women in the capital, but they haven’t actually been outright violent until now. So this is…”

“Just hate,” Hunter finished for him, gruff and serious. “It’s just about hate.”

Another stretch of silence passed. Things stewed in the minds of Clone Force 99 for a few moments, the lack of natural noise in the forest giving them no reprieve from their thoughts. 

“Where is the queen, anyways?” It’s Echo’s voice that permeated the space next, light and curious as usual, but still serious. It came as no surprise when Stowe heaved yet another sigh, though this one could count as a groan as well. Oh no.

“Location is unknown. She went missing shortly after the start of the attack.” His eyes remained forward, not needing to turn to the men around him for them to see just how bad saying it felt. 

Still, it didn’t stop Crosshair from butting in, voice incredulous as ever, harboring the slightest bite. “You lost her?”

The sergeant wanted to reprimand him, but couldn’t find it in himself to do so. 

“Now I’m not sure what you’ve heard about her, but Queen Y/N is a very capable and skilled fighter, very…very stubborn, too.” A knowing exasperation crept into his words, as if this so-called stubbornness was a daily adversary of his. “We have a plan in place for if something like this happened, but it’s been reported that she stopped to save a handmaid and was quickly outnumbered.”

Conversation ceased as the group drew nearer to the castle. The seriousness of everything began to weigh heavier on their shoulders as they were spotted by some of the attackers immediately after breaking the treeline. They meandered around the courtyard as if they owned the place, as if they deserved to be there, but they were taken care of easily, quick work for such a capable group. 

-: ✧

The fight that awaited them inside the castle, however, was not an easy one. There were more of them than they had originally anticipated, making them wonder for just a brief moment how so many people could share something in such a hateful thought. Nonetheless, it was the Bad Batch and castle guard left standing when the fight had been won, when the enemy had been defeated. 

“Good work, boys,” Hunter spoke into his comm, standing in the gardens surrounded by broken and blasted droids. “Anybody got eyes on the queen?”

After a moment, he was met with a resounding no. His helmet turned in the direction of the general who stood a few feet away from him. He shook his head, and the worn man repeated the question into his own comm device, but was left disappointed after receiving the same answer. 

“Alright, Sergeant Hunter and I will be heading to the throne room. If you’ve found the leaders of this failed excursion, round ‘em up and meet us there.” Though he furrowed his brows in confusion, he repeated the same command to his brothers before following Stowe, kicking droid parts out of his way. 

Tech and Wrecker were already in the throne room, along with about half of the castle guard, when they entered through the large double doors. The room, with its towering columns and intricate ceiling, was tainted by what they saw. 

Lined up on their knees were two men, beaten and bloodied, but still alive. They were a part of the attack, and were the supposed leaders; though they looked nothing like leaders now, more closely resembling a coward begging to be spared. As he was looking down at them, the doors opened once again and in came a few more guards, flanked by Crosshair and another injured and restrained man. 

The sniper led the man forward to be lined up next to the others, and that was when Hunter realized that each of them were adorned by the color red in some way, a marker of their rank in this operation. His jaw clenched as he looked over at his brothers, seeing the same color painted on their armor but knowing they were nothing like these criminals, these scum. 

“Her Majesty will want to speak with you upon her return, and I will not indulge you with false promises of being met with kindness and forgiveness. An enemy she is not to be made of, and that is exactly what you have made her.” General Stowe’s words offered no comfort to the men, but they were not meant to. Still, they made the clones more curious about the queen, and who exactly she was and what she did. 

Finally, the doors opened and the last member of their squad entered the large room. Echo had his helmet off and tucked under his scomplink arm, the other one held out to usher a woman into the room. For a moment, Hunter wondered if she was the queen, but something told him she wasn’t, and when Stowe greeted her as the head advisor his suspicions were only confirmed.

“There’s still no eyes on the queen, which is not good,” the general stated. 

“No, it’s not,” Advisor Calianna agreed. “We need to send out some groups to find her, she might not even be in the castle anymore.” 

Tech spoke up next, but Hunter had stopped listening, their words slowly fading out. His head turned away, facing the entrance. He sensed you, still in the corridor; his ears picked up on the rapid drumming of your heart and his nose prickled at the metallic scent of blood wafting from you. 

You were alive, you were moving, and you were here.

Crosshair noticed his brother’s silence first, noting the direction his head was craned in, and he nudged Tech beside him. The clone was not phased, continuing his discussion with the two officials, and it was not a moment later that the massive doors gave their signature creak once again, the noise filling the entire room. It was only then that everyone paused, their attention diverted. There, leaned against the wood of one of the doors, was you. 

The doors were not opened all the way, only as much as you could manage and even that had caused you to halt, catching your breath. You, Her Majesty Queen Y/N, were alive and breathing, but you were hurt. Your face was covered in crimson, and Hunter’s keen eyes zeroed in on the gash going across the bridge of your nose to your right cheek. Your dress, long and golden and no doubt once magnificent, was torn and ripped and barely hanging off your shoulders, stained with blood as well. As your feet carry you into the room with a heavy limp, they notice that they’re bare and leave behind red prints. 

For a moment, everyone was left frozen at the sight of you. You had had the fight of your life, had pushed yourself to the limit and the blade that was clutched in your right hand, coated in more blood, was a testament to that. Dark droplets landed on the bottom of your dress as it pooled on the ground around you. “Your Majesty!” Calianna gasped, rushing forward to meet you as you fully entered the room. It would seem that the woman had not noticed the look on your face, but Hunter certainly had. 

You were not in the mood to be consoled and coddled, the rage in your eyes a stark contrast to the blank expression you wore. The only thing you gave the people around you was a deep furrow of your brow, drawn together in anger and determination. Kriff, maybe even spite too; Clone Force 99 was beginning to get the impression that you were not supposed to walk away from whatever it was that you had. The woman fretting over you was ignored, you not letting her slow your pace. Your eyes looked at nothing else other than the men lined up in a neat and pathetic row; the sight of them only seemed to spur you on, lip curling slightly. 

“Are these them?” 

There was a ferocity coating your words, ringing in their ears as they hit them, and none of the brothers could muster up the courage to break from the frozen state and answer you. It was Stowe who nodded his head at your question, stepping forward and addressing you softly but firmly. 

The closer you drew to the group, the more detailed your injuries became. It wasn’t just the gash on your face that was bleeding, your lip was busted and you had suffered a blow to the temple. Bruises were beginning to form on your arms as they swung slightly at your side, and there would surely be scabs on your knuckles. There was a long rip on the left side of your dress skirt, and your leg slipped out of the slit with every step; your knee was swollen and bruising, clearly the cause for the heavy limp you sported. And still, you never stopped and never slowed as you trekked up the steps leading to the throne, where the perpetrators were lined up.

“How do you feel?” you asked them, though they never lifted their eyes from the ground in front of them. “Do you feel good?” 

As you passed the group of guards and soldiers, they saw that the back of your dress was no better than the front; more rips littered the fabric covering your back and the expanse was stained a dark crimson. 

“Do you feel…accomplished?” You stood over the men, looking down as they cowered on the floor before you. “Do you feel like the men you were when you started this?” 

You were met with no answer, though you were not expecting one. “I know there are more of you, hidden away like rats afraid of daylight; and I know you’re working with Count Dooku. You will crawl back to them, and tell them that you failed. That you were the only ones to survive and it is because I let you. You will tell Count Dooku, personally, that I meant what I said—that it is not in me to be afraid, I was not born to be afraid. I was born to fight, and that is exactly what I plan to do.” 

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air as you remained in place, letting seconds pass by with your fiery gaze placed upon the men in front of you. It was a moment to let them process it, let it sink in and stick in their dim minds.

And then, you dropped the blade and it clattered to the ground. You turned, and it was then that your eyes seemed to take notice of the others in the room. You scanned each soldier in black and red armor, all with their helmets off and faces showing. Your gaze lingered on the clone with gray hair for a moment, zeroed in on the rifle slung over his back. Making your way forward, you stopped in your tracks as you went to pass him. “Take care of all of them but one. He’ll be our messenger,” you ordered, but not harshly. You were not loud, you were not aggressive in tone, you were not emotional. You were calm, serious and merciless with your command. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Crosshair responded quietly, eyes squinted at her as he reached around to remove his rifle. With that, you continued limping forward, your aid rushing forward after a moment to help you out of the room. Clone Force 99 shared a look with one another before the shots rang out. 

-: ✧

It was hours later that the Bad Batch saw the queen again. You had been whisked away to be looked over and treated immediately after leaving the throne room, and it was not until the sun was beginning to set and everything was bathed in an orange glow that they stood before you again. 

You were on a balcony overlooking the capital, back facing the soldiers as you leaned against the stone. Hunter hesitated to disturb you, eyes lingering on you even when he knew she shouldn’t. Your hair was pinned up and your dress had an open back, revealing gashes covered in bacta, but you had sensed him this time and without even turning your head fully, you spoke to them directly. “I was told to let them breathe for a bit, I hope it doesn’t bother you.” 

You sounded tired. None of them knew how you were even standing after everything that had happened, yet there you were. “No, ma’am,” the leader answered, kicking himself for the slight stutter in his words. “We just wanted to check in with you before it got too late, if that’s alright.” 

Fully facing them now, you were haloed in the warm light of the sunset and you looked absolutely magnificent. The gash on your nose and cheek was going to scar, but it didn’t take away anything from the grace and elegance you possessed. “Of course, I actually wanted to speak with you myself.” 

“You did?” Wrecker questioned, voice louder than needed in the calmness of the area. You only chuckled at him, grin small but present as you nodded. 

“Yes, I did. Is everything handled?” This question was directed towards Crosshair, and he nodded his head once. 

“The messenger was sent on his way,” he answered, and it was obvious to all that there was more he wanted to say. The question was, would he speak his mind or mind his tongue? “Are you sure about this, though?” 

There was no evidence of offense on your face. You only nodded firmly, voice serious. “Yes, I am. I’m not afraid of Count Dooku, but I am not so delusional that I won’t admit that I need help. I need your help.” Your eyes, shining in the lowlight of the evening, landed on each one of them and took the time to take them in for all they were. 

Perhaps it was that their whole lives had been spent training for and fighting in a war and there weren’t many pretty things to see in a life spent on battlefield after battlefield that made their hearts seize in their chests at the look, or maybe it was just that your gaze was so piercing because it was driven by the truth in your words and the determination to do what was right and serve justice where justice was due. 

“Can I trust you to help me end this? Because that is exactly what I plan to do, stop this before it gets any more out of hand. I can’t do it on my own and I’m going to need people on my side that I can trust without a doubt, and,” she grinned, “not to speak illy of your characters, I don’t know you. But, I do want to trust you, you risked your lives helping today and I am more grateful than you could imagine. Can I?” 

Again, no one seemed to want to be the first to break the frozen state and actually use their words. No one seemed to want to take the leap of faith required to dive headfirst into this fight, into this cause, as uncharted and diligent as it was. But eventually, as though the same wavelength connected each mind, Hunter came to his decision first and the rest followed; trusting their brother’s judgment and direction the same as any other day. 

“Of course you can, Your Majesty,” the long haired man answered, nodding his head. “Your fight, is our fight now.” 

“Yeah!” Wrecker cheered. “Don’t you worry, Queenie, we got this!” 

Not a moment later, Tech’s voice joined in. “Well, I suppose we do have much to offer the cause,” a hand reached up to adjust the goggles on his face. 

“You can count on us, Your Majesty,” Echo assured, a small smile stretching his lips as his eyes sparkled ever so slightly.

Now, all eyes gazed at the last man remaining, the sniper who personally fulfilled the queen’s wishes. Crosshair was sometimes hard to predict, but all knew his temperament and aversion to things that didn’t contribute to the main goal. If it wasn’t helping them win, it wasn’t really worth it, right? But this, this fight built upon the backs of hate and discrimination and evil, was in the way of the goal of victory. The separatists, and those aligned with them, were the enemy and those enemies were here now. “I suppose this place could do with some cleaning up.” 

The grin on your face earlier had grown into something akin to dazzling. It was a full smile now, teeth on display and illuminating the space everyone was huddled in. Unbeknownst to the group, they had all gravitated towards the woman, huddled around her almost shoulder to shoulder as she called on them for help. “Wonderful,” you mused, and they could hear it. The knowing lilt in your voice, the glint of mischief reflecting off the word. “I think we may just do something here, boys. Huzzah,” you concluded softly, hand placed in front of you and waiting.