❝They call him Tech. ❞

                        ❝yeah, he can fill your head with useless

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

“...C-Cross?” Tech reaches out to feel for Crosshair as he feels his clothes getting peeled off of him. It’s hard for him to keep his head up, he’s still exhausted and using energy he should be saving.

Quickly, his button down is removed, though his arms presented a slight obstacle as Tech was finding it hard to get himself to cooperate with Crosshair’s intentions. Despite Crosshair explaining to Tech what he was doing and Tech hearing it, he still felt quite lost.

Underneath his button down is a plain white tee, alsk stained with blood. His blood must’ve soaked through his first shirt onto the second. Without his button down, it’s abundantly clear how small Tech is. Someone could probably snap his torso into two pieces with ease, and his arms are like boney wires, tirelessly flailing as they find something to grasp.

His arms have started to bruise from the ropes from earlier. It looked as if a black and blue snake and found its way under Tech’s skin, wrapping itself around his arms.

The tee presented even more of a challenge, Tech’s body didn’t seem very willing to cooperate with Crosshair pulling the shirt over his head. He was still.. so little. His ribs poked out slightly from under his skin, he also had an evident divot in his chest about an inch or so deep. He had several healed scars scattered along his chest and abdomen. They all had the appearance of burns, however some were long and thin, slightly protruding from his body, others were more recognizable as cigarette burns buried deep enough in his skin to leave a lasting mark.

His abdomen was covered in black and blue, no person should have been beaten with such severity.

Tech let out another wet cough, hacking up a small amount of blood as he did so, before attempting to double over in pain.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

The sound of a key being vigorously shoved into a slot accompanied by an abrupt turn is the first thing he hears upon regaining his consciousness. Letting out a grunt, he begins to blink away the grogginess from his eyes. His hand absently falls on Crosshair’s shoulder blade, giving Tech a sense of.. where he is.

He is on Crosshair’s shoulder.

Again, he lets out yet another grunt. This time in pain. His head is still a throbbing nightmare and his body aches. He tries to stifle out Crosshair’s name but he can’t seem to get his mouth to cooperate with his brain. Instead he just lets out a jumbled mix of noises.

Instead of fighting Crosshair’s grip on him, he simply slumps again. He doesn’t have it in him to exert anymore force.

“G..Ga..len?” He finally musters out his brother’s name after several failed attempts. He knows his brother prefers his nickname, however Galen seems to be the only thing his brain can get his mouth to effectively say.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

Aside from the dimly lit sign flickering its vacancy, the only other source of light came from the small lobby situated on the end of the building. The receptionist seems largely uninterested as Crosshair enters, briefly glancing up to take note of the man before returning to the crossword puzzle on the desk.

“Whaddya want?”

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

He has no idea what’s going on, and his thoughts only become more hazy as he’s launched forward in collision with the seat in front of him. It should hurt, but before he can register the pain he lets out a retching noise.

Whatever is happening is completely out of control, but he can feel his body regurgitating whatever was in his stomach from earlier. He’s fighting off impending sleep from exhaustion and blunt force trauma, while also trying to make sense of his surroundings, and on top of it all he is trying to catch his breath between each hurl from the pits of his stomach.

There’s hardly anything to actually throw up, however he can’t ease the sickening sensation brewing from his stomach.

Emotions

Without Making Your Character Feel Too Self Aware

Showing Emotion Without Telling About It

Emotions Associated With Body Language

Telling Readers What The Character Doesn’t Want To Show

Hiding Emotions

Expressing Cardinal Emotions: Masculine vs. Feminine

Writing Extreme Emotion Without Melodrama

Specific Emotions

Conveying Shock

Conveying Embarrassment

Conveying Disappointment

Conveying Love/Attraction

Conveying Annoyance

Conveying Relief

Conveying Uncertainty

Conveying Impatience

Conveying Shame

Conveying Resentment

Conveying Panic

Conveying Guilt

Conveying Desperation

Conveying Sarcasm & Verbal Disrespect

Conveying Confusion

Conveying Stubbornness

Conveying Frustration

Conveying Indifference

Conveying Indignation

Conveying Confidence & Pride

Conveying Smugness

Conveying Enthusiasm

Conveying Curiosity

Conveying Hopefulness

Conveying Unease

Conveying Reluctance

Conveying Worry

Conveying Humility & Meekness

Conveying Happiness & Joy

Conveying Amusement

Conveying Disgust

Conveying Resignation

Conveying Jealousy

Conveying Anticipation

Conveying Contentment

Conveying Defeat

Conveying Excitement

Conveying Fear

Conveying Hatred

Conveying Hurt

Conveying Being Overwhelmed

Conveying Sadness & Grief

Conveying Satisfaction

Conveying Somberness

Conveying Sympathy & Empathy

Conveying Wariness

Conveying Defensiveness

Conveying Desire

Conveying Doubt

Conveying Energy

Conveying Exhaustion

Conveying Hunger

Conveying Loneliness

Conveying Physical Pain

Emotional Wounds

A Role Model Who Disappoints

A Sibling’s Betrayal

A Speech Impediment

Becoming a Caregiver at an Early Age

Being Bullied

Being Fired or Laid Off

Being Held Captive

Being Mugged

Being Publicly Humiliated

Being Raised by Neglectful Parents

Being Raised by Overprotective Parents

Being So Beautiful It’s All People See

Being the Victim of a Vicious Rumor

Being Stalked

Being Trapped in a Collapsed Building

Being Unfairly Blamed For The Death of Another

Childhood Sexual Abuse (by a family member or known person)

Discovering One’s Parent is a Monster

Discovering One’s Sibling was Abused

Experiencing a Miscarriage or Stillbirth

Failing At School

Failing To Do The Right Thing

Financial Ruin Due To A Spouse’s Irresponsibility

Finding Out One’s Child Was Abused

Finding Out One Was Adopted

Getting Lost In a Natural Environment

Growing Up In A Cult

Growing Up in a Dangerous Neighborhood

Growing Up In Foster Care

Growing Up In The Public Eye

Growing Up In The Shadow of a Successful Sibling

Growing Up with a Sibling Who Has a Chronic Disability or Illness

Having Parents Who Favored One Child Over Another

Having To Kill Another Person To Survive

Infertility

Infidelity (emotional or physical)

Losing a Limb

Losing a Loved One To A Random Act of Violence

Making a Very Public Mistake

Overly Critical or Strict Parents

Physical Disfigurement

Rejection By One’s Peers

Telling The Truth But Not Being Believed

The Death of a Child On One’s Watch

Victimization via Identity Theft

Watching A Loved One Die

Wrongful Imprisonment

Spending Time In Jail

Suffering From a Learning Disability

Motivation

Achieving Spiritual Enlightenment

Avoiding Certain Death

Avoiding Financial Ruin

Beating a Diagnosis or Condition

Being Acknowledged and Appreciated by Family

Being a Leader of Others

Being the Best At Something

Caring for an Aging Parent

Carrying on a Legacy

Catching The Bad Guy or Girl

Coming To Grips With Mental Illness

Discovering One’s True Self

Escaping a Dangerous Life one Doesn’t Want

Escaping a Killer

Escaping a Widespread Disaster

Escaping Confinement

Escaping Homelessness

Escaping Invaders

Finding Friendship or Companionship

Finding a Lifelong Partner

Having a Child

Helping a Loved One See They Are Hurting Themselves and Others

Obtaining Shelter From The Elements

Overcoming Abuse and Learning To Trust

Overcoming Addiction

Protecting One’s Home or Property

Pursuing Justice For Oneself or Others

Realizing a Dream

Reconciling with an Estranged Family Member

Rescuing a Loved One From a Captor

Restoring A Name or Reputation

Righting a Deep Wrong

Seeking Out One’s Biological Roots

Stopping an Event From Happening

Trying Again When One Has Previously Failed

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It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

He isn’t buckled, instead he is just lying across Crosshair’s back seats, still bleeding from several areas on his face.

It takes about ten minutes for him to stir from his black out. It’s a slow process though. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he lets out a groan, as he does so for several more minutes. The pain is starting to hit him again, and with it, a throbbing headache. Though he hasn’t come to his senses enough yet, instead he opts to try and stay asleep for a little longer.

That is, until he is reminded of why he’s in so much pain. Then he jolts up in the backseat.

Realizing he can’t see anything, he frantically feels for his face with his hands.

Grabbing ahold of the fabric around his eyes, he vigorously pulls it off, cursing under his breath as he does so. Then he spots Galen Crosshair, or his older half brother.

This all happens in a matter of seconds. However any hopes of collecting his bearings is interrupted by a harsh pain in his abdomen.

He had been waiting for his new roommate to arrive for the better half of an hour now. More specifically forty five minutes, that was two thousand, seven hundred seconds to be exact. His roommate couldn’t be far. All cadets were kept on kamino. He wasn’t impatient per se, the concept of solitude was just foreign and unpleasant to him. He had been used to sharing the barracks with an entire cohort, with bunks lining the room. However now, there was only one bunk tucked into the corner of the grey and white cube shaped room— a cube was a symmetrical three dimensional shape, contained by six equal sides. He had never been in a cube shaped room before.

He had deduced the nature of his living quarters readjustment early on during his relocation. It was rather obvious really. He was not like the other clones. That went without saying. He was considered to be an aberration by the Kaminoans. He neither resembled nor sounded like the other clones. His voice was easily an octave higher than that of his clone brothers— he used the term lightly as the sentiment was never mutual, how could they even consider him to be a brother when he was nothing like the rest of them— and his skin appeared much fairer, his hair was also significantly lighter. However his problems with his physique only seemed to worsen from there: unlike the others he had very poor eyesight, or what he had come to call “double vision,” he was also significantly smaller and frailer, and despite being apart of one of the newer cohorts, he also appeared to look younger than the rest in his division.

He was no doubt isolated from the rest of his cohort for experimentation. Perhaps this was the first test.

La Edu reaches out and latches onto one of his arms, giving an unforgiving tug as she pulls the reluctant cadet along towards the wall. She pushes him against it with one arm, before measuring the cadets height. He tries to look down at the floor, away from the Kaminoan’s gaze, however his head is quickly forced back up and against the wall by her hand.

He’s short, still, as she notes. Standing at five foot even, whereas normal cadets his age would already be around five foot four.

Curious, the Kaminoan taps a single finger against the lense of his shoddily crafted goggles. After a brief moment of pondering she instructs him to take off the apparatuses. As he does so, she wanders over to her work table, pulling out a reasonably sized poster with random letters written in aurebresh.

She holds it up, instructing him to read off the letters to her.

He can’t, he says. It’s too hard to see them.

She is only standing five feet away from him. Dissatisfied with his response, she moves closer, closing the gap between them until she is right in front of him.

He still cannot read off the letters.

He had been waiting for his new roommate to arrive for the better half of an hour now. More specifically forty five minutes, that was two thousand, seven hundred seconds to be exact. His roommate couldn’t be far. All cadets were kept on kamino. He wasn’t impatient per se, the concept of solitude was just foreign and unpleasant to him. He had been used to sharing the barracks with an entire cohort, with bunks lining the room. However now, there was only one bunk tucked into the corner of the grey and white cube shaped room— a cube was a symmetrical three dimensional shape, contained by six equal sides. He had never been in a cube shaped room before.

He had deduced the nature of his living quarters readjustment early on during his relocation. It was rather obvious really. He was not like the other clones. That went without saying. He was considered to be an aberration by the Kaminoans. He neither resembled nor sounded like the other clones. His voice was easily an octave higher than that of his clone brothers— he used the term lightly as the sentiment was never mutual, how could they even consider him to be a brother when he was nothing like the rest of them— and his skin appeared much fairer, his hair was also significantly lighter. However his problems with his physique only seemed to worsen from there: unlike the others he had very poor eyesight, or what he had come to call “double vision,” he was also significantly smaller and frailer, and despite being apart of one of the newer cohorts, he also appeared to look younger than the rest in his division.

He was no doubt isolated from the rest of his cohort for experimentation. Perhaps this was the first test.

He looked to have certainly tensed up as well, making no effort to strip any of his layers.

It’s an uncomfortable situation, and La Edu quickly catches onto his disobedience, turning to face them once more before quickly approaching the smaller clone. The kaminoan absolutely towers over him. There would probably have to be four of him to reach her height.

He only moves back further as she approaches him, visibly distrustful and terrified for himself as she reaches out with a long hand to make a grab at his arm.

He ends up tripping over himself, falling into the corner of the room before sinking to the floor in submission.

Unfazed by the cadets mini breakdown, La Edu strikes 04 across the face before once again repeating her orders and turning away towards her work table.

This time 04 does not hesitate, quickly tugging off his shirt as he makes his way back over to 03, slowly.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

Receiving strikes to his face was bearable enough, he had endured enough of it in the past to have a well rounded idea as to what to expect, however even after years of physical abuse by the hand of his mother’s long string of boyfriends, he could never withstand blows to his abdomen. It felt as if his whole body had lit up, expecting to cough out scalding hot fire from his lungs. He wanted to just collapse and die there. It felt as if his body had completely given up.

He let his head fall again, rolling slightly as he let out another unsavory cough, blood sputtering from his mouth as he did so. He tried his best to collect his bearings, taking in as deep of a breath that the rope tied around him would allow. However his moment of clarity was short lived and interrupted by another harsh blow to the stomach, causing more blood to spew from his mouth.

The unsettling noises he made and the equally off putting state of his face didn’t faze him. He knew his face was probably a repulsive sight from the injuries inflicted. He could feel the blood slowly trickling from his nose, the impending swelling of both his eyes and the areas surrounding them, as well as the stinging lacerations on his cheeks and on his brow. His shirt was undoubtedly stained with blood from his nose and mouth. Though he couldn’t exactly check. The thug pulling his head back by his hair wouldn’t allow it.

Surely, if he didn’t die from their beatings, he would die from suffocation. He felt like he was drowning in his own blood, with it pooling in his mouth and endlessly forming from his nose as well.

If there was a god out there, one or many, Tech wondered what he had done in a previous life to deserve such a fate. He wondered why he had been subject to a lifetime of abuse, both physical and emotional, and why his lifes conclusion would be met with the same treacherous circumstances. Physical abuse from his captors, and emotional abuse from his own mind.

The beatings only continued as he tried to doze off in his own thoughts, receiving blows from both men and against every part of his body they could assault. He was truly and utterly helpless. It was as if he were a child again, defenseless against his mother’s lovers battering him and rendering him senseless. He felt so.. little and weak.

At least it would be over soon. Whether he suffocated in his own blood, bled out, or was put down by his captors, he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Even if he somehow miraculously survived all of those possibilities, he would see to it that he end his own suffering. Permanently.

What he didn’t expect was to have the brain matter and blood of his captors suddenly splattered all over his own face. In that moment he had returned to his senses and was present in the current situation unfolding before him. His eyes were as wide as the swelling around them would allow, his mouth slightly agape as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Endor, or IX3244-A as it was designated was fairly off the grid. Located in the Outer Rim territories at grid coordinates H-16, and with a rotation period of 18 hours and an oribital period of 402 standard days and a diameter of 4,900 kilometers, there really wasn’t much that ever happened on the forested moon. However that didn’t exempt it from possible separatist occupation.

Which was why he was there now, surveying the area for any unusual activity. He and the other batchers had collectively agreed to split up— as it would make their job a lot easier, and it’d get done a whole lot faster— to scower the moon. It wasn’t really a job in the norm of the Bad Batches undertaking, however they had been in the area when the comm had come in to inspect the area. Apparently a nearby station had been picking up some peculiar frequencies as of late.

Tech personally didn’t mind it. He found the natives to be quite charming and friendly. The moon itself was also quite a breath of fresh air. The amount of greenery and untouched wildlife was quite astounding. The moon was still very much so in touch with nature. It was ironic really, as someone like him could be so absorbed in technological advances and all things related to the matter, while also having such a vast appreciation for wildlife completely untouched by technology.

It was also nice to be able to take his time to take in his surroundings without his brothers ushering him along. Overall it was just— peaceful— something that he didn’t get to experience quite often, if ever really. Of course he knew of peace, he had learned about it, and could see that on some levels, some planets still experienced peace. However he was bred for war. In essence he could ascertain that he was only in existence because of the notion of war.

Thwack.

He had just run into a tree. It hadn’t occurred to him sooner that it would’ve been in his best interest to look up from his radar device. At least his brothers weren’t around to make fun of him for it, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“I think I would love to hear about your life, I suppose the Galaxy is much grander during your lifetime as opposed to ours now.”

He began to start walking as he spoke, all the while maintaining his overly enthusiastic attitude. He was quite cheery for a clone, sure not all of the clones would classify as grumpy however he almost seemed to carry a childlike innocence with him. It was truly, very strange.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

However it wasn’t as if he could, it had been left on the street by his apartment complex and he had just been tied up to a chair in some abandoned warehouse from the look of things. He stirred slightly, his eyes slowly opening before trying to blink away the haze from his unsuspected nap. He had a throbbing headache and couldn’t quite completely come back to his senses. It felt like the world was spinning at a rapid pace— it already moved at 460 meters per second by the equator, however he felt as if he had been flung off the earth.

He couldn’t remember much from before aside from bumping into someone, but his memory only seemed to fail him from there. His glasses were still on his face, he could feel them, yet he still could hardly make out a thing in the room.

Tech let out a wet cough, which led him to several conclusions. Firstly, he was tied up. He couldn’t move either of his arms to cover his cough. Second, the rope was too tight around him. It hurt. A lot. He winced as he tried to wiggle around, he could’ve sworn he was about to pass out again from the pressure of the rope against his body.

He was so dizzy too.

He hadn’t been able to collect himself enough to even react to the fact that he had been abducted.

Tech didn’t try to raise his head, he continued to let it droop. He was hardly keeping himself conscious as it was, and one more physical task could just send him over the edge.

He could hear distinct voices from around him, two— maybe three of them— and approaching footsteps. He must’ve blacked out again for a brief moment because once he had regained consciousness he felt a hand pinching at his jaw, forcing his head up to face a very blinding light.

It was hard to make out who, or what he was looking at. The light obstructed the majority of his view, and whatever wouldn’t have been obstructed was hindered by his intense squinting. The person grabbing at his face was saying something, he didn’t know what though.

However he was quickly brought to his senses once he felt a closed fist collide with his cheek. Whether it had been the sound of the collision or the strike itself was irrelevant, he just wished he hadn’t been brought to his senses because he knew better than to expect it to be over.

Within another few seconds he received another strike, this time square in the face. He let out an ugly noise in response, his head lolling forward once more. Again, his head was forced back up into the blinding light by unkind hands.

They must’ve been the hands of someone else, as he could feel two very strong hands pulling at his hair to keep his head up.

The third punch knocked off his glasses, and the fourth drew blood from his nose.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

There was a short summary about him, his occupation and work location, address, and phone number. There was not much in the way of what was listed about his personal life. Just that he had a mother currently residing in the countryside. By all accounts, he seemed quite ordinary, and if anything else, bland at best. It made very little sense for him to be such a top priority hit, and for a considerable amount of money.

Tech was, of course, clueless of the hit. It was around ten at night and he had just exited the nearby drugstore, allergy medicine in hand. He couldn’t stop sneezing, ever since he had gotten home his nose had been the absolute bane of his existence. His overall sensitivity bothered him, he got sick easily, and his immune system fared no better with regular seasonal allergies. He wondered if Crosshair had any of the same issues as him.

Perhaps Tech had just been burdened with terrible luck, destined to sniff and sneeze forever.

Of course his luck could only get worse. In hindsight, he could have seen it coming, had he not been so preoccupied by the phone in his other hand. He ended up bumping into someone on the sidewalk— which was quite strange, the streets were usually empty by ten. He quickly apologized, before beginning to move on his way again. However the stranger didn’t seem pleased in the slightest.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

He’s careful about making sure he doesn’t walk into oncoming traffic, or into other people as he walks despite having his main focus on his phone screen. His coworkers always made jabs at him, his age, and naivety, constantly telling him that there was more to life than having his eyes glued to his phone screen. Which was true, however he didn’t need to hear it from his coworkers. He had experienced plenty already, and his phone only served as a link to the rest of the world.

It was how he had gotten into contact with Crosshair afterall. It also provided so much information at his fingertips, he was constantly picking up and learning new things from it. It also helped keep him occupied when he needed to fixate on something.

He didn’t let his constant usage of technology impede on his real world experiences, he let it enhance it.

Within about a half hour he arrived at his apartment complex. It’s a simple building, tall, and doesn’t necessarily stand out from the rest. Though it is more modern, and was built within the past ten years. His apartment is several floors up, which he doesn’t mind. He has a balcony afterall, which makes for a nice home for his plants.

The apartment itself is small, a single master bedroom with a bathroom, an open kitchen and dining room area with a small living room attached. Tech doesn’t own much, he has no need for such trinkets. He does however own dozens upon dozens of books, neatly stacked on bookshelves throughout the apartment, mostly lining the walls of his living room. The dining room has turned into his office, he has several computers rigged up on the table with wires littering the floor. Of course, with his laptop, he can set up a remote office from anywhere in the apartment, be it his bedroom, the kitchen counter, or on the couch as well. However his primary base of operations was at his dining room table, a square table big enough to seat four.

He doesn’t have a television set. Television has never interested him much and he doesn’t have the time to sit down and watch it either. His walls are quite bare. He always intended on buying paintings to add a bit of life to them, once he felt more settled and comfortable enough to spend money on decorations for his home. Perhaps Crosshair would be willing to sell him a painting or two. His art would be a nice addition to his very plain white walls.

It’s a sunny day out, with just the faintest drizzle that comes and goes, the streets busy with the typical weekend crowds. Crosshair steps out of his car onto the neatly paved sidewalk, crushing his used durrie into the ground before fixing his hearing aids into his ear. Despite the weather, he’s dressed in all black from head to toe per his usual, sporting his regular turtleneck and slacks. It’s not normal for him to be out at such a time, especially not with all these people around him, but he has a meeting with someone today that he thinks should be interesting, so he’s decided to step out of his comfort zone for a little while.

Two weeks ago, an Alan Techachzyck contacted him, claiming to be his half brother. It was a true shock to him that there could be someone out there that’s related to him and interested in a connection. He knows his father had other children- his mother never failed to remind him -but he gave up imagining them ever coming into his life. For the entirety of his childhood, he’d wished for a sibling or a friend to have a relationship with, so when he got the call, it more or less had him too excited. But his excitement died away soon after, because whenever he let himself look forward to something, it never failed to go wrong. Life just doesn’t like him and it shows.

Despite his bad luck, he agreed to a meeting. Alan set up a time, so the two of them met up a few days after their first call. It was a long meeting and Alan did most of the talking,- he talks a lot -so Crosshair just listened. He’s an interesting person for sure, very fidgety and awkward, but he seems determined for them to have a nice relationship. It’d probably be appropriate for him to talk more this time, let Alan get to know him better. He also makes a mental note to ask for his nickname again. Alan did tell him, but in all honesty, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Crosshair set the meeting up this time. A simple coffee shop is what he chose. He’s wary of people getting into his business, so he chose a shop he hasn’t gone to before. Even though he set the time and place, he’s late. By forty-five minutes. It’s his way of seeing how sincere people are. If Alan really wants to meet with him, he’ll be here. It’s not a good habit, but it works for him.

Finally, he starts walking down the sidewalk, gazing into the coffee shop as he moves along. He doesn’t see Alan from out here, so maybe he wasn’t so eager to meet him, but he goes inside anyways. The door’s bell jingles as he opens it and the smell of perfectly creamed coffee comes slamming into his face, much stronger than the lingering scent outside. It’s warm in here but he can feel drafts of air from a fan somewhere in the shop. Subtly looking around, he frowns. There’s so much chatter from all the people inside, sipping away at their drinks and conversing with their booth partners. But where is Alan?

Since he’s not seeing him, he immediately turns to leave, not about to make a fool of himself by standing there. If Alan left, it is what it is. However, as he’s turning to go, he catches a glimpse of someone at table in a far corner of the shop, setting their newspaper down. A familiar pair of glasses reveal themselves from behind it, making him still. ...He is here.

Something that was evident within their first moments of meeting was Tech’s firm handshake mentality. He had a tight grip and took the gesture quite seriously. It was a sign of mutual respect.

“I’ll see you around Crosshair” He continued to smile throughout the ordeal before pulling his hand away and stuffing it into his pocket.

He was first to leave out the door, taking a turn down the sidewalk towards the crosswalk over to the next street. At that point he had pulled his phone back out, fixated on the screen as he walked.