After knowing that Omega was safe at Nala Se's side, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. But as I headed back to the Bad Batch's quarters, a sense of dread began to creep in. They were gone. Sighing, I tried to shake off the fear and started sniffing out their scent.

The trail led me towards the common hall before taking a sudden turn towards the training hall. My heart skipped a beat. What are they doing there? I wondered, feeling my curiosity burn even brighter.

As I followed the scent through the winding corridors, I finally reached the doors of the training center. Nervously, I pushed them open. To my surprise, I found the Batch members already deep into their training simulation, completely unaware of my presence.

My red eyes strained as they focused on the observation center, where Admiral Tarkin stood like a dark specter. The cold, clinical lighting cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making his presence even more foreboding. I had encountered him once before—or rather, Nyx had—but fragments of her memories remained with me, stitched into the fabric of my mind. I recognized key figures across the galaxy, and the tale of Anakin Skywalker's tragic descent into darkness was no secret to me.

As I curled my claws inward, the metallic tips scraping gently against my palms, I struggled to shake off the ghostly whispers of the past. Memories of betrayal, of paths turned dark. My gaze hardened, fixed like a laser on the observation center, locking onto Tarkin's every move. Tarkin shouldn't be allowed here, I brooded, my thoughts a tumultuous storm of resentment. "He has no concern for the lives of clones; to him, they're expendable assets, mere tools for his grand schemes.

The air was thick with tension, a palpable weight pressing down on my shoulders. Every instinct in me bristled with distrust and anger, but I forced myself to stand tall, resolute. The path of the past echoed through my soul, but the future, unwritten, lay just beyond the horizon.

A low growl rumbled in my throat as I began to move forward, weaving my way through the onslaught of blaster fire from the training droids. Each movement was calculated, precise, as I dodged the brilliant red bolts whizzing past me. With a powerful leap, I launched myself onto one of the droids, tearing its head clean off in a shower of sparks and severed wires. The acrid smell of burnt circuitry filled the air as I snorted in satisfaction.

Without missing a beat, I propelled myself toward another droid. This time, I used my powerful tail to swipe it into the wall, the impact sending a reverberating crash through the training hall. The droid crumpled, pieces of its form scattering across the floor like discarded toys.

The Bad Batch ceased their attacks, their weapons lowered as they stared at me in astonishment. I tore through the training droids with an effortless ferocity, my movements a blur of lethal precision. The droids, once formidable opponents, now lay in ruins around me, their attempt to challenge me rendered futile.

Their silence spoke volumes. I scoured the remnants of the droids with hardly any effort, sending a clear message: My strength was unparalleled, and my resolve unshakable.

Given them a look, I nodded at Hunter. "Stay here. I'll talk to the weasel," I snarled, then slipped quietly into the observation deck.

Tarkin stood there, and as I entered the small room, he turned, his face a mask of cold indifference. "Ah, Miss Crimson. I knew you couldn't keep away from your comrades," he said coolly.

I bared my jagged fangs at him, a growl rumbling deep in my chest. "You're human," I spat the word like it was a curse. My gaze then shifted to the two Kaminoans standing beside him. "You two can go. I don't want to dirty your pretty skins," I said, my voice dripping with disdain.

The Kaminoans glanced at each other before retreating with haste, their elongated bodies disappearing through the door. Tarkin remained unflinching, his icy blue eyes locked onto mine, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Such ferocity," he remarked with a hint of amusement, "but it's wasted on futile anger."

I moved closer, every muscle in my body coiled with tension. "You're the one who is wasted, Tarkin. You think you're untouchable, but you're just as vulnerable as the rest." The air between us crackled with an unspoken challenge, a duel of wills.

I walked closer, towering over him, the predatory gleam in my eyes unmistakable. As I bared my teeth, my razor-sharp fangs glistened, revealing the primal hunger burning within me. I hadn't tasted real, fresh meat in days—the kind that quenched my deepest instincts. Sure, the meat the clones served in the mess hall was good enough, but it was tainted by their touch. What I craved was untouched, pure meat. After all, I was a predator, and predators needed to feed.

The scent of fear, subtly masked yet undeniably present, wafted from Tarkin. It teased my senses, igniting a deeper, more visceral hunger. I took another step closer, my nostrils flaring as I drew in his scent. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent standoff between hunter and prey.

"You think yourself powerful, Tarkin," I growled, my voice a low, rumbling menace. "But in truth, you are nothing more than a morsel waiting to be devoured."

His expression remained stoic, yet I could see the flicker of unease in his eyes. The predator within me reveled in that small victory, a tantalizing foretaste of what was to come.

I raised a claw toward him, the motion slow and deliberate, a clear threat hanging in the air. Before I could strike, the door burst open and clone commands rushed in, shouting "Halt!" Their voices were firm, but I could hear the tremor of fear beneath the surface.

I froze momentarily, then slowly turned toward them. My pupils were blown wide, leaving just a thin ring of red encircling the darkness. "Grrr, pathetic humans," I spat, my voice dripping with contempt. In an instant, I leaped at them, tearing through their armor with ease. Their screams filled the room as they tried to shoot me, but even in the underbelly of my being, my scales had hardened over the years, turning me into a nearly impenetrable force.

Tarkin stood motionless, his expression frozen as he watched me devour the clones, one by one. Their corpses lay scattered at my feet, lifeless husks that I left behind as I turned my bloodied maw toward him. "You're next," I snarled, each word a promise of imminent doom.

The scent of fear was stronger now, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Tarkin's facade of indifference was cracking, ever so slightly, and it only fueled my ferocity. I could taste the victory, imminent and intoxicating.

Then, just before I could leap at him, a stabbing pain sliced through my belly. I roared in agony, veering off course and crashing to the ground beside Tarkin, who wasted no time in seizing the opportunity to escape. I turned my head toward the door in time to see him slip past, his retreating figure a blur of cowardice.

In his place stood Crosshair, his rifle trained on me with unwavering precision. Pain stabbed through the shot wound again, and I touched a claw to it, coming away with scales stained in dark, glistening blood. The sight only fueled my rage and desperation.

"You shouldn't have done that," Crosshair said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. The words echoed in the cavernous room, a deadly calm in the eye of the storm.

The wound burned with every breath, a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. I bared my teeth, a low growl rumbling in my throat as I struggled to rise. The betrayal stung almost as much as the physical pain, cutting deep into my very core.

Crosshair's eyes never left me, his grip on the trigger steady. "Stand down," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

Despite the pain, despite the anger that seethed within me, I knew I had to make a choice. Slowly, reluctantly, I lowered myself, still glaring at Crosshair, my defiance etched in every fiber of my being.

Then the others came rushing in, and Hunter's intense gaze shifted from me to his brother. "Crosshair, just what are you doing?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and disapproval.

Crosshair didn't flinch, his rifle still pointed in my direction. His eyes, cold and calculating, met Hunter's with an icy resolve. There was a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as the two brothers faced each other across the room.

"I'm doing what needs to be done," Crosshair replied, his voice steady and unyielding. His grip on the rifle was unwavering, as though releasing it would betray some unspoken code.

Hunter's brow furrowed, a mixture of anger and concern playing across his features. "She's one of us," he said, his tone pleading, seeking some semblance of the brother he knew beneath the hardened exterior.

The wound in my belly throbbed, each pulse sending a wave of pain through me. I watched the exchange through narrowed eyes, feeling the weight of their words but unable to move, pinned by both injury and the tension of the moment.

Crosshair's expression didn't change, his resolve as cold as the barrel of his gun. "She's a threat," he retorted. "And threats need to be neutralized."

A silence fell over the room, heavy and oppressive. The other members of the Bad Batch watched in stunned silence, their loyalties torn between the brothers and the unspoken code they had all lived by.

As I lay there, the blood slowly pooling beneath me, I realized that this was not just a battle of physical strength but a battle for the soul of the squad. And the outcome was far from certain.

I coughed, drawing attention to myself. "She needs medical attention, or she will not last," Tech said urgently, pushing past his two brothers. He crouched by my side, his hands skillfully assessing the wound as he adjusted his glasses.

"You shot her," Hunter asked, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and anger. "Why?"

Crosshair let out a low breath and turned to face his brother. "As I said, she's a threat. She killed three clone commanders," he stated, pointing at the bodies lying at the edge of the room. There was a moment's silence as he shook his head, as if trying to shake off a painful memory. "She... she even tried to kill Tarkin," he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hunter's eyes flickered to the motionless clones and then back to Crosshair. The weight of the situation pressed down on everyone in the room, the air thick with tension and unspoken words.

"She saved Omega," Tech interjected, his hands working diligently to stabilize me. "Whatever her past actions, she's done us a service. We can't just abandon her."

Crosshair's jaw tightened, his internal conflict evident in the hard lines of his face. He had always been ruthless, but even he couldn't ignore the complexity of the situation. "I did what I thought was right," he said, his voice strained. "But maybe... maybe I was wrong."

Hunter placed a hand on Crosshair's shoulder, a gesture of both reassurance and solidarity. "We're a team, Crosshair. We make these decisions together. Let's get her to safety, and then we'll figure out the rest."

As Tech worked to stabilize me, the others began to take action, gathering supplies and preparing for an urgent retreat. The bonds of brotherhood, though strained, held firm, and it was that unity that would guide them through the trials ahead.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

The boys carried me to their quarters, and Tech did his best to patch me up. I wanted to go to the lower levels of the medical station to see Kix, but I knew that was too risky. I had just killed someone—three someones, in fact—and I had tried to kill an upper-state. Tarkin wouldn't let this pass. He would either send the Force after me or target my squad.

I twitched at that thought, a shiver running through my injured body. "Lie still," Tech ordered, cutting the last strap of bandage and securing it firmly around my torso. "You can't change forms before that wound heals," he reminded me sternly, his eyes filled with concern behind his clear lenses.

I nodded weakly, lifting myself onto shaky claws. "Thank you," I gasped, my gratitude genuine despite the pain.

Tech adjusted his glasses, his expression softening slightly. "Just doing what needs to be done," he replied. "But you need to rest. We can't afford to lose you."

Hunter and the rest of the team hovered nearby, their eyes filled with a mix of worry and determination. The weight of recent events hung heavily in the air, each of them keenly aware of the precarious situation we found ourselves in.

As I lay back, trying to find a comfortable position, my mind raced with the implications of my actions. Tarkin would not take my defiance lightly. He would stop at nothing to exact his revenge, and we needed to be prepared for whatever came next.

"You saved Omega," Hunter said softly, his voice a balm to my troubled thoughts. "That counts for something. We'll find a way to get through this."

I met his gaze, finding solace in his steadfast resolve. Despite the chaos, despite the looming threat, I felt a spark of hope. We were a team, bound by loyalty and a shared purpose. And as long as we stood together, there was nothing we couldn't face.