Despite his best efforts, Crosshair frowns when the whip is handed to him. It's an old-fashioned thing, made from heavy leather, thinning out towards the end and tipped with three heavy metal spikes. "What's wrong?" The Zygerrian that handed him the whip asks. She's the second in command of this little crime ring Crosshair's infiltrated, going by the name of Asesh. "Weren't you boasting about your ability to torture?" Crosshair scowls, ears flicking. His supposed skill in interrogation is the one of the reasons he was hired by the gang in the first place, beside his Zygerrian heritage. Whilst he hasn't got training in that area, he's certain he can improvise. Only issue is, he never anticipated he'd have to do so on one of his brothers.

The mission had been going fine. Infiltrating a Zygerrian gang isn't all too dificult when you're part Zygerrian yourself. They were all too ready to involve Crosshair in their group. Which was great of course, that's why he was chosen for the mission. Having Zygerrian blood will make Crosshair seem more trustworthy. It'll make it more likely that vital information will be shared with him.

All Crosshair needed was confirmation on if this gang was involved with the disappearance of two important senators. But things went slower than anticipated. He didn't want to push them to share something, worried he might cause them to distrust him. Maybe he should have been more persistent, than maybe things wouldn't have went so badly. With no way to safely contact his brothers, he had no way to inform them of the delay. They arrived for his extraction like planed and Crosshair had to hastily send them away. They'd gone unnoticed, or at least, that's what Crosshair thought until he was called for a meeting and Wrecker was dragged in, bound, gagged and beaten. He's not looked at Crosshair once since he's been manhandled onto his knees in the middle of the room by two of the larger gang members. "Whips aren't exactly my style," Crosshair says, trying to hand it back.

Asesh smiles, far too softly for someone asking Crosshair to torture his own brother. Of course, if she finds that out, they'll both be in Wrecker's position.

“You've never used a whip before? You've truly been kept from your heritage for far too long,” she says, shaking her head. “First I find out you don't speak Zygerrian, now this. Next you'll tell me you're against slavery.”

Asesh laughs, loud enough to make Crosshair's ears hurt. Crosshair joins her, faking amusement at the crude joke. It's not the first horrible thing of hers he's had to pretend to find funny, but this time hurts the most by far.

“I'll give you advice, don't worry,” Asesh says with a grin, patting Crosshair's back. “It will do you good to learn, to connect with your heritage. Whips also make for good exercise.”

Crosshair forces a smile.

“Don't we usually use a different type of whip?” Crosshair asks, inspecting the object in his hand.

Electro-whips are extremely painful, but to Crosshair's knowledge, are designed not to leave permanent damage. The leather whip he's holding looks vicious, if given a choice, he'd swap it for the electric variant. He's not getting out of doing this, might as well try and reduce the harm done to Wrecker.

Asesh scoffs. “Electro-whips are good, but are to keep merchandise from losing value. And we don't need this little intruder in good shape by the end of this.” She closes the gap between her and Wrecker, grabbing his face and laughing. “And have you seen him? Hideous! A few more scars won't make him uglier.”

“What even is he?” one of the guards asks, wrinkling their nose. Asesh shrugs.

“Part Lasat,” the second guard speaks. “Look at his feet and ears.”

The first pulls a face. “Never seen one of those.”

“You know, big, hairy, weird legs,” the second continues. Asesh shuts him up with a wave of her hand. Crosshair doesn't say anything. Best none of the Zygerrians know he has any familiarity with Wrecker or his species.

Crosshair has to fight the urge to put himself between Asesh and his brother as she prods at his face, dragging her claws across it near his blind eye. Wrecker's always nervous when someone's on his blind side, Crosshair can see the discomfort in his eyes as he tries to twist out of her grip.

“I did not know Humans could even breed with Lasat, but I can see why they don't do so often. The mix isn't very pretty, is it?” Asesh laughs as Wrecker mumbles something.

Pulling the cloth used to gag him out of his mouth, the fabric catching on Wrecker's sharp teeth, Asesh leans close.

“You can make this very easy for yourself, half-breed. Tell us who you work for and what you were doing sneaking around our property and it will all be over.” Asesh smiles, tipping Wrecker's head back far enough to make Wrecker squirm. She runs a hand over his short, purple hair, trailing her claws along his pointed ears, first the intact one, then the one torn by the blast that took Wrecker's eye.

“Kriff off,” Wrecker growls. “You don't scare me.”

Barking a laugh, Asesh looks back at Crosshair, gesturing to him with her free hand. “See him? He lacks experience, yes, but Cross will more than make up for that in the passion he shows for cruelty.” She leans in close enough for Crosshair to have to strain to hear what she hisses into Wrecker's ear next. “Once he's done with you, you won't even be able to crawl out of this room.”

Doing his best to remain neutral, Crosshair swallows. He's been laying it on thick the last few days, telling the Zygerrians all kinds of tall tales about how much he enjoys the suffering of others. He really wishes he'd just kept his mouth shut.

Not only will he have to torture his brother, he will have to pretend to enjoy it. Crosshair swallows thickly against the nausea building steadily.

After motioning for the guards to turn Wrecker so his back's towards them, Asesh splits Wrecker's plain shirt with her claws. Once torn enough, Asesh slips the ruined item of clothes of his chest. Lines of fresh blood run down Wrecker's skin where she's raked her claws over it.

Wrecker barely flinches. Crosshair knows things won't stay that way for long.

Turning to Crosshair, Asesh grins, flicking the blood off her claws. “Try it,” She says, indicating the whip.

Crosshair watches the weapon unfurl onto the floor, testing its feel. It's heavy. Aiming at an empty spot in the room, Crosshair swings it weakly. If he proves how bad he is at using it now, Asesh won't suspect anything when he goes easy on Wrecker.

Asesh hums as she watches Crosshair's pathetic display. Putting her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes at Crosshair. For a moment, Crosshair thinks she's caught on to him. If so, he'll have to get out of here as fast as he can. With Wrecker of course. There's no way he's leaving him here alone.

“You really are bad with whips,” Asesh says, laughing to herself.

Crossahir fakes mild offense. “I said so, didn't I?”

“Let me show you.” Asesh moves to Crosshair's side, putting her hand over his on the hilt of the whip. She moves his arm for him, showing him the correct way to swing it.

When Crosshair swings it again, still holding back, it cracks loudly. Wrecker flinches at the noise, catching Asesh's attention. She leans close to Crosshair.

“See that? He may act tough, but he's terrified already. He'll be crying at your hands soon enough.” Her teeth glint as she smiles widely, making Crosshair want to shove her far away from himself. She turns back to Wrecker, speaking loudly again. “Now, anything you wish to share?”

Wrecker stays silent.

“Seems he wishes to do things the hard way. Cross, don't worry yourself too much about aiming. Just hit him as hard as you can.”

Crosshair hesitates. He can't miss Wrecker, it would be obvious he'd done so purposefully. He also can't let Asesh see he's not giving it his all. Holding his breath, Crosshair draws his arm back.

He tries to avoid the organs he knows are relatively exposed on Wrecker's lower back. The thick leather of the whip leaves an immediate welt of Wrecker's back, but Crosshair's aim really is bad, and the thin tip hits Wrecker's shoulder, splitting the skin there. The sharp tips even wrap around his shoulder, digging into the muscle at the front.

Wrecker cries out, making Crosshair's heart drop.

Asesh lets out a delighted shriek. “You are a natural! It's in you're blood, as I have been telling you.”

Wrecker's ears twitch nervously as awaits the next lash. Crosshair just holds the whip, unsure how to proceed. The Zygerrians will want him to continue, but he won't do so unless told so.

He glances at Asesh, hating himself for having to execute what ever order she'll give him. She gives Crosshair an encouraging nod and smile, leaving him both no option but to smile back and swing the weapon at his brother again.

Crosshair longs for his helmet as he brings the whip down on Wrecker's back again. It's bad enough having to hurt his brother, Crosshair could do without having to pretend to like it as well.

He avoided hitting Wrecker's shoulder with the tip again, but he's fairly certain it caught the muscle on Wrecker's upper arm.

Wrecker doesn't cry out this time, a bit back noise of pain being all that leaves him. Crosshair feels sick.

Asesh circles Wrecker as Crosshair is forced to continue. The lashes begin to layer across one another, clearly hurting a lot worse when the do judging by Wrecker's reaction. He's nervously retracting and extending the claws on his feet, even when Crosshair isn't actively hitting him.

Crosshair almost gasps as a particularity badly aimed swing leaves a deep cut diagonally across Wrecker's upper back, quickly having to cover the noise by faking a laugh. There's pride in Asesh's eyes as she watches Crosshair. It makes him want rip her throat out.

“It's good to laugh when you are having fun,” she says. “Don't let anyone here make you feel like you can't.”

Asesh stands directly in front of Wrecker as Crosshair strikes him the next three times, clearly enjoying herself as her eyes focus on Wrecker's face.

“Give me that,” Asesh says, pointing at the whip in Crosshair's hand. He thinks he's done something wrong until she continues. “His expression is amusing, you have got to see it.”

Willing his body not to hesitate, Crosshair walks around Wrecker, handing Asesh the whip as she passes.

Wrecker can barely look at Crosshair, only glancing up at him shortly. Kark, are those tear tracks? Crosshair's made his brother cry in the past, they've all done so at one point when they got into arguments. Never like this though.

When no one is looking, Crosshair one handedly uses their squads apology sign at Wrecker's eye level. He isn't sure Wrecker's seen it, and even if he has, Crosshair's not sure how Wrecker could ever forgive him.

Asesh cracks the whip without letting it hit Wrecker, delighting at the way Wrecker tenses. Wrecker looks up at Crosshair, expression almost neutral if it weren't for the pain he's covering up.

Then the whip lands on his back and Wrecker's face scrunches, teeth clicking at how fast he clenches his jaw. It takes every bit of willpower Crosshair has not to react to his brothers distress. He has to force his ears and tail from flicking as he watches Wrecker suffer, willing his expression and body language into one of enjoyment.

Asesh wastes no time before continuing, bringing the weapon down on Wrecker over and over in quick succession. Wrecker's hands shake where they're bound in front of him. He's barely able to keep upright, Asesh only giving him a break if the guards have to right the way Wrecker kneels.

When she stops, breathing heavily from exertion, Crosshair can see blood splattered on the floor either side of Wrecker.

Smiling at Crosshair, Asesh motions hims to move closer to Wrecker. “Go on, interrogate him. And get your claws involved. It's a beautiful experience, sinking your claws into a lowly creatures flesh.”

With a quiet, shaky breath, Crosshair grabs Wrecker's face like Asesh did, keeping his claws away from the skin. Instead, he sinks those on his other hand into Wrecker's shoulder where Asesh can see them.

Wrecker hisses in pain, making Crosshair want to let go. He doesn't.

“Tell us who you are and what you were doing here,” Crosshair hisses.

“You'll get nothing from me,” Wrecker barks, voice strained and breathy. Crosshair has to tighten his grip as Wrecker squirms, making him cry out again.

“Speak,” Crosshair yells. Wrecker just keeps fighting against his grip in response. He manages to shake Crosshair off, falling onto his side in the process. Asesh finds this extremely amusing.

“Take over for me Cross. You are young and have a lot of energy,” Asesh orders, Extending her hand holding the whip. Drops of Wrecker's blood fall from it and onto the floor in the time it takes Crosshair to walk to her.

Wrecker's back is in a sorry state, almost making Crosshair react to the sight. Deep, bleeding marks layer the skin, tearing it to shreds in places. Crosshair's hand trembles slightly as he allows the whip to unfurl again.

If Asesh lets this go on much longer, Wrecker will die.

She asks Wrecker questions as Crosshair continues as slowly as he dares. Wrecker screams every time he's hit now. Crosshair isn't sure he'll ever be able to forget the sound.

When Asesh finally calls an end to the torture, Crosshair feels like collapsing.

“A night on the floor will make him more agreeable,” Asesh smirks. She's about to walk off when Crosshair stops her.

“What about infection?” he asks. He's pushing his luck, but with how open Wrecker's back is, it's worth the risk.

“Why would we care about that?” one of the guards huffs, only to be shut up by a hand gesture from Asesh.

“No, he is right. Our prisoner will die on our terms, not from some infection.” She pats Crosshair's back affectionately, before gesturing at the guard she interrupted. “Find something to use as disinfectant, alcohol or salt, I don't care. And bring a large piece of cloth. We don't waste medical supplies on prisoners.”

It dawns on Crosshair that Asesh is going to use this to hurt Wrecker even further.

The guard leaves and Wrecker is forced onto his stomach on the floor, bound hands stretched out far in front of him. Asesh takes the whip from Crosshair's hands and his stomach drops.

“Watch this,” she says, nudging Crosshair's side playfully. Asesh brings the whip down on Wrecker's exposed lower legs. She catches him right near the ankle, making him kick his legs up.

Asesh naturally doesn't leave it at that, ordering Crosshair to straighten Wrecker's legs each time he squirms away from her. Thankfully, Crosshair isn't forced to use the whip on his brother this way as well as Asesh stops when the guard returns.

Wrecker's still left with bunch of new welts and cuts, a few ugly ones across the bottom of his feet, damaging the pads situated there. Crosshair cringes at the sight, playing the motion off as him shaking his arms out. He knows that Wrecker has a lot of feeling in his feet and a lot more range of motion than a human would. The damage will affect him badly.

“What did you find?” Asesh ask the guard.

“Salt,” he says. In addition to a package of salt, he's holding a blanket, made from rough material by the looks of it.

Upon Asesh's order, he hands both the items to Crosshair.

“Have fun,” she says genuinely, pointing at Wrecker.

Faking a laugh, Crosshair kneels down next to Wrecker. He's panting for air, cheek pressed to the floor. The skin on his back is in shreds, even peeling off in places.

Nausea threatens to overcome Crosshair as he watches his brother's chest rise and fall, shifting his back, glistening with blood.

Crosshair tips some salt into his hand. The situation would be bad enough, but the guard's managed to find particularly coarse salt. Its rough edges will only add to the way it will irritate Wrecker's wounds. He's not sure this is better than the risk of infection. Once again, Crosshair wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.

Just as he's about to pour the first of the salt onto Wrecker's back, Asesh interrupts him.

“Is he purring?” She exclaims, laughter bursting out of her.

Now Crosshair's been made aware of it, he hears it too. It makes his heart hurt. The urge to lay down beside his brother and purr as well, to maybe make him feel just a little better, is near overwhelming.

“Like a scared child! Pathetic,” Asesh continues. She kicks Wrecker in the ribs, making him gasp. Crosshair laughs automatically, not even fully realizing that he's doing so anymore.

When Asesh signals him to continue, Crosshair empties the content of his hand onto Wrecker's back. Wrecker writhes as the salt clings to his open wounds, whimpering and gasping as the sting sets in. Continuing, Crossahir pours salt directly from the container, moving as fast as he can.

“No need to rush,” Asesh intervenes. “Enjoy yourself! Really get the salt in there. We wouldn't want our prisoner to get an infection.” She smiles at Crosshair, encouragingly. Crosshair looks down at Wrecker's back before nodding. That way, he doesn't need to manage his expression too much.

Being mindful of his claws, Crosshair starts using his hands to rub the salt deeper into Wrecker's wounds. Wreckers howls in pain, struggling to get away from Crosshair. He pushes his torso off the ground, but Asesh is there to stop him, putting a boot on the back of Wrecker's neck.

She nods at Crosshair, looking pleased.

Crosshair does his best to block out both Wrecker's screams and anything coming from Asesh as he continues. His hands soak with blood as he works. Crosshair doesn't want to imagine what the rough crystals of salt must feel like rubbing against open injuries,

Once he's done, Asesh hands him the blanket. “Wrap it around his chest. It will stop the bleeding.”

The material of the blanket is awful to touch, the kind Hunter couldn't stand. Having it used as makeshift bandages should classify as a type of torture in and of itself.

As carefully as he dares, Crosshair wraps the fabric around Wrecker's torso, having to force him onto his back to tie it at the front. The wounds on Wrecker's arms and legs remain open, salt acting as the only barrier between open skin and the surrounding world.

Asesh, with Crosshair's help, maneuvers Wrecker to his knees. He sways slightly as he sits slumped.

“You will talk,” Asesh hisses, grabbing Wrecker's face again. “It is only a matter of time.”

Wrecker growls, lunging forwards to snap at her. Asesh laughs, avoiding his bite easily.

“You are amusing,” she says. “I like hurting creatures with a little fight in them. Makes breaking them all the more fun. Maybe I'll keep you.”

With a hand wave, Asesh gets the guards to pull Wrecker onto his feet, dragging him out of the room. He can barely keep his legs under himself, leaving bloody marks where ever his feet make contact with the floor.

Asesh follows the guards, so Crosshair won't stick out doing so. At least he'll know where Wrecker is being kept.

It's a small room, smaller than the one used for interrogation. Maybe it was once used for storage, but now, it's been fashioned into a bare cell. Asesh wasn't kidding about making Wrecker sleep on the floor.

Swiftly, Wrecker is shoved to the ground, hitting it hard. Crosshair just about catches how Wrecker curls up on his side and the sound of him purring quietly to himself before the door is slammed shut.

The only thing Crosshair wants to do now is be alone, somewhere dark where no one can see him.

But Asesh asks him to follow her, so he does.

She steps out of a door towards the back of the base the gangs set up. It leads into a narrow ally, barely illuminated by a humming neon tube just over the door. Asesh leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette. She offers one to Crosshair, like she does every time. He declines.

“Suit yourself,” Asesh shrugs. She smokes in silence for a while, at least having the decency not to exhale smoke in Crosshair's direction. There's small specks of blood on her hands, making Croshair want to look away from her.

Looking at his boots, he spots the state of his own hands. Dry and drying blood is caked on his skin, concentrated around his claws. The contrast to his pale skin is stark. Crosshair's skin itches. He wants to scratch at it until any trace of Wrecker's blood is gone.

“You've never been taught how to break a slave, have you?” Asesh asks, cigarette barely held between her fingers as she gestures.

Crosshair shakes his head.

Asesh clicks her tongue before taking another drag of her cigarette. “Never even owned one, have you?”

Crosshair shakes his head again, looking anywhere but where Asesh is standing.

“I guess it is not uncommon. Not everyone can afford them, especially with large portions of our trade being ruined by this Galactic Republic,” Asesh scoffs. “It is sad that you have been kept from your culture. It is hardly your fault you have inferior blood running through your veins. That is no excuse to keep you from who you really are.”

Crosshair nods, turning his grimace into a smile. “You've done a lot to make that right.”

He looks at Asesh, regretting the action when he spots the soft, fond smile on her face. Crosshair needs the gang to like him if he's going to get any information from them, but he doesn't like this one bit.

“We'll get information from the prisoner sooner or later, but I plan to keep him. I will use him to teach you the slave trade,” Asesh says, putting a hand on Crosshair's shoulder. “If your work today is any indication, you will make a fine slaver.”

Crosshair feels sick. He hasn't felt this unwell since he was a cadet. But all he does is continue smiling. “I'd like that a lot.”

Asesh laughs. “I knew you'd agree! After how much fun you had with the prisoner, there was no doubt in my mind!”

He'd fooled the Zygerrians, Crosshair just hopes he hasn't fooled Wrecker.

“Now, go, eat, get some rest. No need for you to keep an old woman like me company,” Asesh laughs. “Think of some other things you'd like to do to that prisoner as well,” she says with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Crosshair's about to turn away from her when she grabs his arm. “And Cross, don't let anyone say your human blood defines you. You're a truer Zygerrian than many pure-blooded ones will ever be.”

“Thank you,” Crosshair says, playing off his disgust as modesty.

“I mean it. You're made for this.” With a smile, she lets go of Crosshair's arm and goes back to smoking.

Crosshair doesn't stop or let himself get distracted the entire way to the quarters he has set up in the gangs base. He barely breathes the whole duration of the way.

Once he's in the small room, he drops himself on his bed, going limp.

The day couldn't have gone worse. Not only did he fail to get the mission done in the time frame he should have, but his slow progress has landed Wrecker in a horrible situation.

He must hate Crosshair, there's no way he doesn't. Crosshair has to believe that Wrecker knows Crosshair would never enjoy hurting him like that, but even so, Wrecker must hate him for getting him stuck in this situation in the first place.

Shifting onto his side, Crosshair stares at his bloody hands. There's nothing he can do to fix the situation now. All he can do is continue the mission. If he doesn't, Crosshair's put his brothers lives in danger for nothing.

He can't risk bringing Wrecker any useful item or giving him medical help. If anyone notices, Crosshair could blow his cover. But Crosshair has to check on him, just to see what kind of state Wrecker's in.

When most of the gang is sleeping, then he'll go.

It's agony, doing nothing as he waits. He only leaves his room once to wash his hands. The blood doesn't seem to come off. It's like it's soaked under Crosshair's skin.

He doesn't eat. Crosshair feels like he should be hungry, but the thought of food just makes his nausea worse.

Crosshair hates being like this, useless. He's done nothing, achieved nothing this mission. Except for torturing his own brother of course.

The Zygerrians trust Crosshair, but not enough to share valuable information with him. And all Crosshair can do is keep playing this game, keep hurting Wrecker until he completes the objective.

What's worse is, Crosshair actually liked Asesh.

Crosshair's young, a new member of the gang and not even a full Zygerrian. Other members made sure to remind him of this. Not Asesh. She was nice from the start, looked out for him, was easily impressed by his skills and made sure to point out when he did something worthy of praise.

Asesh treated Crosshair like an actual living, breathing sentient being. Natborns don't do that often.

It didn't matter to Crosshair that she was a horrible person, none of that affected him. It's easy to play along with someone's bad behavior and values if none of them are directed at you.

But now Wrecker's their prisoner, now Crosshair's forced to act on those opinions he pretended to have.

Even after washing his hands, Crosshair can still smell the blood. It's like the scent clings to him, his clothes, his hair, his skin. He can't escape it.

Once the lights in the hall are turned off for the night, Crosshair wastes little time in retracing his steps to the cell Wrecker's been left in.

Only standing at the door does it dawn on Crosshair that he doesn't have a key or code to get in.

Staring at the panel next to the door, Crosshair thinks. The guard didn't use a code or key card, did he?

Hesitantly, Crosshair pushes a button on the panel, than another. He repeats the process until inexplicably, the light at the bottom of the panel flashes green and the door slides open.

That isn't very secure, Crosshair thinks to himself.

The inside of the room had it's door panel removed. Crosshair groans. That makes the chances of one of the Zygerrians seeing him much higher. He'd have preferred the privacy of a closed door.

The room is dark, but it's easy to make out Wrecker's curled up form on the floor near the wall. He's shaking, purring quietly.

Glancing into the corridor behind him, Crosshair waits. When he can't hear anyone approaching, he moves to Wrecker's side, moving slow as to not spook his brother. Once close enough, he crouches next to Wrecker, hovering his hand just above Wrecker's shoulder.

“Wrecker?” Crosshair asks, carefully letting his fingers brush across Wrecker's skin.

Wrecker flinches, gasping in pain as he crawls away from Crosshair's touch. Crosshair watches in horrified silence as Wrecker struggles to avoid being near him. It's entirely justified, still hurts to be exposed to that truth.

Stepping over Wrecker, Crosshair goes down to his level again, this time in his line of sight.

“Please, stay calm,” Crosshair pleads. “I'm not here to hurt you.” The last thing Crosshair needs is the Zygerrians being alerted of his presence in the cell.

Wrecker shifts, eyes widening as he looks up. He's not struggling anymore at least.

“Cross?” Wrecker's voice is hoarse. Crosshair mentally kicks himself for not bringing any water for his brother. Groaning weakly, Wrecker tries to sit up. Crosshair makes him stay down, hating the way Wrecker seems to shy away from his touch.

“I'll complete the mission soon, I promise,” Crosshair says. It would be easy to leave with Wrecker now, but there's no telling what will happen to their squad if they fail a mission this vital. The lives of important people are at stake. The Republic will value those over the life of clones, especially experimental ones. “Things will continue tomorrow, but I'll get you out of her. I just don't know when yet.”

Wrecker nods, laying his head on the ground. His eyes are barely open, half lidded as he goes back to purring. Quietly, Crosshair joins him as he looks him over. The blood on Wrecker's arms and legs is drying, wounds still looking wet. The blanket has red stains where it covers Wrecker's back.

“Does it hurt?” Crosshair asks, immediately regretting the stupid question. Crosshair can't get anything right today.

Humoring Crosshair for some reason, Wrecker nods. “S'okay if I don't move or breath too hard,” Wrecker mumbles, eyes falling closed.

Crosshair almost puts a hand on Wrecker again, but stops himself. Wrecker clearly doesn't want Crosshair touching him. Crosshair has to respect that.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Crosshair says, knowing his apology is entirely worthless. Wrecker's silence seems to indicate that he agrees.

That's when footsteps echo down the corridor. Crosshair leaps to his feet, looking for a rout of escape. Maybe if he's fast he can slip out of the cell unnoticed.

No, the person approaching is too close already. There's only one way Crosshair's getting out of this without blowing his cover.

With a quiet apology to Wrecker, Crosshair kicks him in the ribs, just hard enough to make Wrecker cry out.

“Speak!” Crosshair yells, surprising himself with how loud he is.

A familiar laugh filters into the room.

Crosshair looks up to find Asesh leaning on the door frame.

“I thought I would find you here,” she smirks.

Crosshair freezes. Does she know? Has she known this whole time?

“You're so eager to cause suffering, aren't you, Cross?” she continues.

“He should have spoken by now,” Crosshair says, hoping Asesh isn't just toying with him.

“These things take time, don't worry.” Asesh walks closer, threateningly. “But you are right. It does help to keep prisoners from getting any rest.”

She laughs. Swiftly, she hooks the heel of her boot over Wrecker's chest, flipping him onto his back. Wrecker gasps for breath as he arches off the floor, short, pained noises leaving him.

Asesh puts her weight on Wrecker's ribs, leaning forward towards Crosshair. Wrecker whimpers.

“You however need your rest. I admire your passion, but sleep is important. We will continue tomorrow,” Asesh says, leaning far enough to pat Crosshair's arm.

Soon as she takes her weight off of Wrecker, he turns onto his side. Asesh begins to escort Crosshair out of the cell, not before kicking Wrecker in the back for good measure.

Standing outside the cell, Crosshair feels worse than he did before. He'd managed to make life more miserable for Wrecker, just because he wanted to make himself feel less guilty by fishing for forgiveness.

“Sleep. I need you in top form tomorrow,” Asesh speaks as she closes the door to the cell. Crosshair catches one last glance of Wrecker's form against the far wall.

Approximately a thousand Standard Years prior to the Clone Wars, there was a small Clan on the border of the Twilight Territory and Day-Side called Tuuru. They were primarily hunter-gatherers, though they also had a few small herds. And boasted one of the finest leather-workers on Ryloth; Eeru Yaa.

Eeru had a wife and several children, most of them sons. His only daughter, Seble, had left the village to study at the nearest Academy of Dance. She returned to celebrate the festivals and observe the traditions of the Clan however.

On one such occasion, as Seble was helping her mother and the other Clan rylan prepare the communal dinner, the Raiders came. Seble was knocked unconscious in one of the initial blasts as the Raiders dropped a firebomb, a common tactic for causing chaos and confusion.

She woke in the ashes of her home beside the bodies of her mother and two of her Ch’tumaran. One of her eyes had been destroyed in the blast and that whole side of her face and, to a lesser extent, her body was extensively injured. Nearly out of her mind from pain and grief she buried her parents, brothers, and other murdered Clan members and managed to stagger to the next village over where she was taken in for medical treatment.

The trait most highly prized in Twi’lek females is beauty and Seble’s was, by Rylyn and Galactic standards, destroyed. Seble didn’t particularly care as she had another goal in mind. Revenge, plain and simple.

As soon as she could walk again she was out the door and headed to her host Clan’s shrine where she had the priest tattoo her. Clan marks on her lekku, an oath of vengeance on her face, her arms and back claiming her as free and a survivor of fire. As soon as that was done she made her way off planet, tracking the raiders who had destroyed her Clan.

She cut a bloody swath through the Outer Rim slave trade, both the Hutts and Zygerrians placed large bounties on her head. Five years later she tracked down her youngest brother, the last surviving member of her family, only to find he had died a year earlier in a mine digging up fire-pearls for a Zygerrian lord.

The Jedi are credited with the end of the Zygerrian slave empire and it is true that they played no small roll in its dismantling. But few people know about the ryla who snuck into the Imperial palace and slit the throat of the Emperor in his own bed. Who single-handedly liberated thousands of slaves. Who gave long, slow deaths to every Zygerrian she met such that she was a Zygerrian boogie monster even in her own time. (Don’t stay out too late or The Hunter will find you. Eat your dinner or you will never grow strong enough to fight off The Hunter.)

Before her death at the hands of a bounty hunter hired by the Hutts, Seble Yaa had killed more Zygerrian slavers and slave owners than the official war with the Jedi had.

Chapter Text

“Is he...” Crosshair can't bring himself to finish the question, can't bare to think that Wrecker might not make it out of this room alive. Stress can kill people, Crosshair's certain of that. But it can't happen to Wrecker, Crosshair couldn't live with him doing that to his brother.

Asesh nudges Wrecker's face with her boot, own expression bored. “Eh, don't worry about it. You did nothing wrong. They do that sometimes.”

“Die?” Crosshair grips Wrecker's arms as his voice comes out far too sincere, too small and fearful. Like a cadet that's never seen the battlefield.

Asesh laughs as her expression softens. “Oh no, be sick and pass out. All part of the process of breaking a slave.” Asesh leans over Wrecker's slack form to pat Crosshair's shoulder. “I would tell you if you were doing anything wrong.”

With a swift kick to Wrecker's chest, Asesh flips him onto his back again. Crosshair hasn't got time to back away, ending up with Wrecker halfway in his lap. His face is as motionless as the rest of him, his body feeling too warm, even for Wrecker. Like this, Crosshair can see the way Wrecker's chest rises and falls.

The puddle of vomit consists of little else than bile, confirming the fact that Wrecker hasn't eaten in ages. Next to the floor, it coats Wrecker's face too, running down his chin. And Crosshair can't even do him the small kindness of wiping it off.

The acidic smell mixes with the scent of Wrecker's burnt skin, making the urge to be sick feel dangerously close for Crosshair too.

“I think he's napped long enough,” Asesh huffs. “We should wake him.” Crosshair glances up just soon enough to catch the last of the blow torch's flames before Asesh jams the glowing tip of the rod into Wrecker's side again.

Nothing happens for a few moments, but when Asesh starts moving the metal rod again. Wrecker's eyes fling open. He screams as best he can with his raw throat and thrashes. Crosshair's too slow to hold him still, most of all because he doesn't want to do so in the first place. Wrecker's claws catch on Crosshair's forearm, tearing through the skin with ease. Instinctively, he backs away from his brother.

Crosshair stares at the bloody gauges, stinging sharply as he presses a hand over them. Blood spills between his fingers. Better mine than Wrecker's, Crosshair thinks as he can't stop looking at the heavy contrast between the bright red and his skin, pale with the lack of melanin. He clenches his hand over the wound, aggravating it. This is nothing, nothing compared to what they've done to Wrecker, what he's done.

Yet still, he stares at his arm.

It doesn't even hurt that much, at least Crosshair can't feels it. Knowing how he tortured Wrecker hurts so much more, drowns out the sting of the wounds on his arm.

A hand on his arm shakes Crosshair from his stupor. Asesh is crouched at his level, face pinched with worry. “We're going to leave the room for a moment, alright? You need a break.”

Crosshair just nods as Asesh pulls him to his feet and starts guiding him out of the interrogation room. He wants to shove her off, to run back to Wrecker's side, but Crosshair just keeps playing the role he's supposed to.

He and his brothers always said they cared about each other more than they did about the GAR, about the Kaminoans, about the war they're supposed to win. But here Crosshair is, putting all that above Wrecker. Of course, failing the mission would reflect very poorly on their squad and their usefulness. Crosshair still hates that he's let himself sink to this.

Asesh makes him sit against the wall. Crosshair complies as he continues wallowing in self pity. His emotions shouldn't even factor into this. Crosshair shouldn't be thinking about if Wrecker could ever bare to be near him again, or if his brothers will ever trust him like they used to. All he should care about is Wrecker getting out of here alive and being allowed to recover.

But typically, Crosshair is being selfish.

When Asesh returns, she's holding a first aid kit. She's so careful as she cleans and bandages the cuts on Crosshair's arm, using an excessive amount of bacta on the small injury. It all just makes Crosshair hate himself just a little bit more.

Here he is, accepting first aid when he's in no real need of it, as his brother is is agony, laying bloody and beaten on the floor, only a wall separating the two of them.

“Look at me,” Asesh says sincerely, cupping Crosshair's cheek with her hand. “Don't let this deter you. Those beneath you, they will try and drag you to their level, try and destroy you, but you won't let them. Cross, you are destined for this, for great things. No one can take that from you, least of all a pathetic slave that can do nothing but scream and throw up on himself.” Asesh laughs. Crosshair does too, feeling like he might burst into tears any moment.

Asesh rubs a hand over his shoulder. Crosshair wants her gone, wants her dead, but even that could never fix what he's done.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Had worse,” Crosshair mumbles. It's the truth if he's referring to the injury. Everything else is so much worse than anything Crosshair's ever done. He broke something in the relationship with his brothers, something he can never fix.

Asesh stands, offering a hand up to Crosshair. "Let us continue then," she announces. Crosshair accepts her help in getting up all too easily. With a hand on Crosshair's shoulder, Asesh walks both of them back into the interrogation room. The view that awaits Crosshair almost makes him break the persona he'd set up. Wrecker's on his front, one of the guards kneeling on his back, running her hands along his torn back. The second guard gives her a signal and she stands up. Soon as she's off Wrecker, the second guard activates Wrecker's shock collar. Crosshair thought he'd still had the remote for it. Somehow, he must have put it down and forgotten about it. And now the guards have been using it on Wrecker again. Just another mistake to add to the list Crosshair's been accumulating. Asesh waves the guards off, approaching Wrecker herself. Crosshair just watches. She grabs Wrecker's good ear, forcing him to follow her movement as she pulls on it. Wrecker lifts his head slowly, pushing himself onto shaky arms as Asesh drags him up higher. "So you can be obedient," Asesh huffs, tugging on Wrecker's ear to force his head back. It looks uncomfortable. When he's rough house with Wrecker growing up, they obviously went for each other's ears occasionally. Wrecker stopped doing so when Crosshair got his pierced, though Crosshair still likes to annoy Wrecker by messing with his ears. Especially when he's asleep. Wrecker unconsciously reacts to Crosshair by flicking them. It always amuses Crosshair. Of course, getting into fights with regs, they tried to use their different biology against the squad. Asesh treating Wrecker like this brings up the same rage those fights did. The need to shove her off his brother is near overwhelming. Crosshair clenches his fists, claws digging into his palms uncomfortably. Wrecker snaps at Asesh, teeth snagging nothing but air. Crosshair expects Asesh to laugh. Instead, her face twists into a scowl. "Disgusting," she hisses, letting go of Wrecker's ear and bringing her boot up to connect with the side of his face in the same motion. Wrecker crumples, shaky arms finally giving out beneath him. Asesh places her boot on his neck, pressing Wrecker's face against the floor. Crosshair can hear him wheezing. "He needs to suffer for harming you," Asesh says. Crosshair almost retaliates with the fact that he's clearly suffered enough. "Of course," he says instead. "Since you were harmed, I think you should be the one to pick this method." Crosshair's breath hitches. The possibility was always on the table, but he'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. Crosshair looks at Wrecker, pinned to the floor on his front. His body can't take much more punishment, the last thing Crosshair wants is Wrecker to lose more blood. The suggestion has to be believable as a torture method, but nothing that could harm Wrecker's body permanently. For the fact that he'd been creating all kinds of stories about the cruel ways he's hurt people the last few days, Crosshair's struggling to find something to fit this criteria. Wrecker groans weakly, making the guilt permanently housed in Crosshair's chest squirm. Picking a way to hurt Wrecker is the last thing Crosshair wants to do, but it gives him an opportunity to try and go easy on Wrecker. Crosshair inhales deeply, catching Asesh watching him. He has to figure something out fast. Anything physical is out of the question, but things like isolation will be seen as too boring. Crosshair wants to avoid anything with asphyxiation or water as well, as either risks Wrecker's life far too much. Then it comes to him. "We could drug him," Crosshair says, watching Asesh's reaction carefully. She's still smiling at least. Drugs seem like the best option. Wrecker's big and his metabolism is even faster than a regs, he'll burn through any substance quickly. Besides, as disorientating as the experience will be, maybe it will allow Wrecker to gain some form of break from the constant agony he's been in. "I like the way you think, Cross," Asesh smirks.

As Asesh starts ordering a guard to find a substance to give Wrecker, Crosshair begins to regret his choice. It's the best he could come up with, but listening to Asesh's delight in regards to the idea is making the hairs on Crosshair's arms raise. The need to keep her as far away from his brother as possible is constant and there's nothing he can do to fulfil it.

The guard is told to look for something in one of the crates of stuff they'd acquired in disputes with other gangs, to focus on finding something that's easy to get into the prisoner. She returns minutes later holding vials of clear liquid and a hypo-syringe.

“It's a hallucinogenic,” she says. “Apparently makes everything feel more intense.”

“That sound's perfect, doesn't it Cross?” Asesh asks. Crosshair nods.

“Sounds great.” He curses himself internally. His plan backfired entirely.

Wrecker is flipped onto his back and Crosshair is asked to pin him to the floor. Weak as he is, Wrecker barely struggles. At least until he spots the hypo.

His eyes widen, breath catching as he tries to shake everyone off. Wrecker's easily restrained in his state, so he just squirms weakly.

“No, no, please,” he begs, voice scratchy from all the screaming. Crosshair wants to cry.

Wrecker's fear of needles had been a constant companion growing up. They've had to force him into contact with them of course, for his own health and safety. This is nothing like that. Wrecker must think Crosshair did this on purpose, used his fear against him. All he's managed to do is make things worse for Wrecker.

Asesh slams her fist down on Wrecker's chest, forcing a groan from him. He goes still just long enough for her to get the needle in his arm. Wrecker freezes at the sensation, barely breathing as his eyes flick between the hypo-syringe and Crosshair. There's no way he doesn't think that Crosshair wanted him exposed to his fear.

“He's a big guy, so we're doing double the dosage at least.” Asesh extends her hand and a guard places a second vial into her hand. Wrecker's struggle picks up again as he watches Asesh load it into the hypo-syringe.

The second dose is administered much like the first, Wrecker glancing at Crosshair fearfully again. When she's done, Asesh steps away from Wrecker, telling Crosshair to do the same.

Wrecker moves to his side as soon as he's let go, laying there the same way he did before.

“See the way he reacted to that?” Asesh says, leaning into Crosshair's personal space. “He's breaking, slowly but surely. He will be obediently following you soon enough.” She playfully nudges Crosshair's arm.

Crosshair smiles in response, going back to watching his brother. It takes a while, but Wrecker starts shivering first. His breathing slows for a short period of time before picking up speed. Wrecker's head lolls to the side as he looks about the room.

Then the begging starts.

First, just mumbled words barely audible over how loudly Asesh laughs. But the louder it gets, the more Crosshair understands what leaves Wrecker's mouth. "Stop, please," Wrecker groans and he struggles against the binders on his wrists. "Please Cross." The mention of his name makes Crosshair freeze, tail twitching. Wrecker repeats it over and over between pleas and apologies, like a mantra, a prayer. One that won't be answered. Despite how it twists Crosshair's insides, makes him feel sick, to see Wrecker begging for his help, for relief from the pain Crosshair's putting him through, Crosshair can just watch. Fresh blood is smeared across the blanket and floor as Wrecker flails weakly, the fabric bunching beneath him. The coppery smell is almost intense enough to combat the lingering scent of burnt flesh. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, Wrecker twists his head any way it'll go. There's no telling if he can even still see the room they're in clearly. "Cute," Asesh sneers, placing a boot on Wrecker's ribs, "he picked up your name." Crosshair's eyes flick to the Zygerrian. He'd momentarily forgotten how dangerous Wrecker saying his name could be. Thankfully, Wrecker used the shortened version and Asesh doesn't seem bothered by it. She grinds her heel into Wrecker's side making him squirm. Only now does Crosshair spot what Asesh burned into Wrecker's other hip. They're Aurabesh letters, an "a" and a "t", likely Asesh's initials. Yet another mark that will make it impossible for Wrecker to forget this mission. "Not to worry," Asesh says as she turns to Crosshair, "he will be calling you master soon enough." Crosshair can't help the disgust that slips into his expression. Despite his attempts to cover it up, Asesh immediately picks up on the face he makes. "No?" She asks. "Well, it is not for everyone. 'Sir' is a good one as well. You have time to figure out what you like." Crosshair nods, not trusting his voice. They continue to watch as Wrecker's struggle weakens over time, getting no less confused as they're going on. Crosshair hopes Wrecker's metabolism works through the drug soon, his wrists are already entirely raw from the way he's fought against his bindings.

When Crosshair glances over at Asesh, needing a break from seeing his brother in pain, he finds the same bored expression from earlier on her face. With a wave of her hand, the guard with the remote shocks Wrecker. Wrecker barely has the energy to react, back arching weakly off the floor, arms seizing. Saliva, and likely remainders of the bile he expelled, run out of Wrecker's mouth as a hollow cough escapes him after the shock abruptly ends. Electricity courses through Wrecker's body moments later again, the cycle repeated multiple times. Until Asesh sighs.

“I am tired of this,” she says. Then she laughs. “And so is our slave by the looks of it.” Asesh puts her hand on Crosshair's back.

Crosshair follows Asesh closely as Wrecker is dragged back to his cell, barely lucid. He's still mumbling pleas and calling out to Crosshair.

“I think we should celebrate with a drink,” Asesh exclaims as they walk, drowning out the noises Wrecker makes. “And don't make up some excuses about being too young. On Zygerria, you would have been drinking already and it is a special day! You're breaking your first slave and if that isn't a reason to have some fun, I don't know what is.”