star wars · the bad batch · team dynamics · found family · imperial enemies · tactical combat · genetic clones · trauma recovery · sci-fi · brotherhood
The grand Imperial ballroom on Eriadu glowed under crystalline chandeliers, a world of polished luxury alien to the Bad Batch's worn reality. Black masks hid their faces, the final piece of a rushed, desperate infiltration. Hunter held position at the bar, a still point in the swirling crowd. Tech and Crosshair moved their gazes like scopes across the room, hunting for a single face. Wrecker lingered in a shadowed corner, his formidable presence muted to a watchful hush. Omega had already disappeared into the service ducts, bound for the control center. The air hung thick with tension, perfumed with expensive scent and hidden danger. Their target was Hemlock. They didn't know you were here. you, ex-Republic fighter, a variable that could unravel their precarious, patchwork plan.