The Bad Batch: One Shot Collection

On a mission gone awry, the Marauder's gravity glitches. Wrecker loves floating, and Hunter already has a migraine. May the Force help them.

Hunter is, he firmly insists, absolutely not a pussy, even if Crosshair insists otherwise. Just to be annoying.

Right now, Hunter thinks the next person to yowl is going out the airlock. And it probably won't even be his fault.

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do about the gravity?" Hunter grumbles, rubbing at his throbbing forehead.

"I hope not!" Wrecker calls from the ceiling, "This is amazing!"

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair grumbles, though he looks as gleeful as his twin. They are doomed. The twins are mutually gleeful about the whole thing.

Hunter really wishes he could be. The battle was a little rough, and they're already on their way to another. Which is annoying, but a part of war. Usually, he'd be fine with it, even if it means he'll be skipping sleep a few days in a row and will probably drop off into a crash soon, but right now, he just wants to sleep.

Which is impossible when he'll be floating if he tries to do so.

Hunter can't remember exactly when his head started throbbing, but it was somewhere in the battle. Too much noise, he thinks. Overstimulation. Usually gets better with a long nap, but the complete lack of a gravitational field is starting to mess with his head. Badly.

Hyperspace will do that a little bit as is, but here, blurring faster than light with various constant gravitation fields pulling them all over, and randomized electric currents drawing them in, Hunter has nothing to focus on while trying to keep his head on and blur the pain out. Which is to say, it's not getting worse, and every time he thinks of it – which is non-stop – it gets worse.

And he has a mission report to do, thank you, Wrecker, as his brother yowls again somewhere from the other side of the ship.

"You know, if the gravity suddenly flicked on, you would fall," Crosshair warns.

"But it won't!" Wrecker argues, "Cuz Tech needs to go outside the ship to fix it."

"Maybe we can eject Echo," Crosshair suggests dryly.

"I might be part metal, but that doesn't mean I can breathe in space," Echo replies, trying to sit back in his chair and floating off. He yanks himself back down and straps in.

Crosshair's just... hovering mid-air.

Wrecker's bouncing off the ceiling. And mostly just the walls. He's praying their brother won't find the ration stash anytime soon, or they'll be pulling things from every corner they don't belong. Or Tech's toolbox, though he thinks Tech has enough sanity not to open it.

Well, he's just being a bit cynical right now.

"I thought you didn't like heights, Wrecker," Hunter offers miserably in vain hopes of getting his brother to calm down. Except heights only matter when they're inconvenient. He honestly thought the reminder would make his little brother relax, but nope.

"I'm not scared of heights!" he argues, "I just got a problem with gravity."

"Those are the same thing, Wrecker," Tech points out.

Crosshair shrugs. "Yeah. Most of the time."

What does that mean? Wrecker is usually adorable, but today is one of those days he's decided to make himself life's greatest pain.

"Are you alright?" Tech asks. He looks like he wants to poke him, but doesn't, and Hunter's grateful for that, because he hates being touched when he's overstimulated. His brothers are always sensitive of it – when they notice. It's usually one of the twins who catch on first, most often Crosshair, but they're both... preoccupied right now. He's surprised it's Tech who first noticed, but still grateful.