woah hey wow i'm posting to tumblr ???
tech bad batch death fic bc i could not stop thinking about him surviving for minutes after hitting the ground hey hello i'm having fun.
~670 wordcount
~warnings: character death, angst, not beta read sorry, mild gore(?), canon typical violence
the fog and cloud was pure white around his vision from the moment the sight of the cart holding his family vanished from sight. the wind whistled in his ear like the scream of spirits in his ears and he suddenly realized why some clones prayed before each battle. he'd thought it unreasonably and illogical, just a pointless comfort when things like luck and karma could not be quantified or confirmed to exist at all. he didn't agree with it any more than he had, but he understood now. perhaps the belief that you would be welcomed into warmth made this easier. he did not feel as though anything would make the knowledge of the quickly incoming impact any better. he just hoped he would perish quick.
the ground hit unlike anything he'd ever felt, cracking into him as snaps pushed a loud shriek from him. crunching in places that shouldn't ever make such sounds. his helmet shattered, breaking on the back of his head. it hurt more than anything and yet it didn't hurt at all. a horrifying numbness settling over every nerve quickly. his brain attempting to sever the trauma that was already there.
he choked, sputtering on pressure in his chest and coughing something warm and sickening onto his already wet lips. everything had to be bleeding. he couldn't see through the cracks in his glasses, but he knew there had to be shards of the class stuck in his face. there had to be shards of *him* stuck everywhere.
he wheezed with each breath, a strained call leaving his closed throat. his ears were ringing, screaming in his head. he had to tell himself they got away. they had to have. they reached the marauder. they *had to have.*
he coughed again, choking once more and gasping on the fluid in his throat. he wasn't sure what would kill him first, his injuries or drowning in his own blood. he wished he'd died on impact, swift and black and without knowing it at all.
wrecker's scream rang in his jumbled mind. mixed with laughter of years and years past. the brothers he adored before everything else in the world. he thought, for a moment, that he would give anything to feel wrecker drag him away from his datapad, grumbling about him working too much.
he felt freezing. he didn't feel anything at all. his brain was scrambling and racing for something, anything to grab onto. receptors that were shutting down slamming through his past to try and see how they'd gotten through pain like this before. they hadn't. it was a fruitless endeavor, and yet he couldn't be annoyed at the pointlessness.
no, all he saw was his brothers.
young kids, training together and learning together, forming plans from their first days together. numbers and days. teenagers, stronger and thicker and readying for war, linking hands and promising to never separate. young adults on their first mission, born and bred for war and yet every single thing went wrong, and he knew that would soon become a pattern with them. seasoned veterans, facing the end of a war they never once thought about, grappling with a world changing too fast to keep up with.
*omega.*
the hope, the seed of the future.
he wheezed softly, feeling his breathing slow and vision blur. the ringing of his ears background noise to the conversations playing back in his head.
*"teeech... come on, play a game with us, put that pad down!"*
*"wrecker, i am busy."*
*"too busy for your brothers, tech?"*
*"do not pretend that cleaning your rifle does not come above us as well, crosshair."*
*"that's it, you're coming with us! come on, get up!"*
*"wrecker, put me down—"*
a soft, sad laugh left him through the strain of his chest, the thudding rhythm of his straining heart stuttering in his chest. he knew it was coming to an end.
he hoped they got away.
he knew they got away.
they'd be okay.
they always, always were.
