Hello there!

Welcome to yet another one of my stories! I hope you enjoy! From what I've written so far of this, just know there will be a lot of tension (of all kinds)

Love you all ❤️

"What do you mean, decommissioned?" Hunter demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cody sighed, rubbing at his face. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm just relaying the information."

Hunter ran a hand through his hair and gave a little anxious tug at it. "How much time do we have?"

"It's not even finalized yet," Cody assured him. "They're just sending a data analyst to make that decision. Your next mission is to pick her up. She's on some Outer Rim planet."

"I'll let them know." Hunter gestured behind him to where the hologram of Cody couldn't see. "Can you tell us anything else?"

Cody grimaced. "Not really. But be nice to the analyst. She's good at her job apparently."

"I'll tell Crosshair," Hunter joked, although it wasn't really a joke.

Cody hesitated before saying, "I shouldn't tell you this but... Her file shows a lot of medical records. Most of her file is strangely classified so I couldn't see it all, but because you're bringing her into the battlefield I thought you should know."

"Great." Hunter groaned. "A clumsy civilian."

Cody grinned cheekily. "Have fun with that."

Then he severed the connection, and Hunter was left to tell the others there was a chance they would be decommissioned.

Amelia adjusted her glasses carefully as her body swayed due to the transport shaking. When her hand was free, she reached up to grab a handle to support herself. Her other hand was occupied with the singular bag that she was bringing with her.

"Nervous?" her supervisor conversationally asked from where he was strapped into his seat.

"No," Amelia responded, stumbling slightly as the ship rocked again. Her ankle rolled slightly and she winced.

Her supervisor eyed her heels. "Poor choice of shoes."

"Yes, sir." Amelia gazed at him with half-shut eyes. She was bored of this conversation.

In truth, the heels were dress code. As was the pencil skirt and the blouse with the ruffles. She knew better than to argue, though.

Her supervisor seemed to get the message that she didn't want to talk and thankfully didn't say anything more. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut as the transport dipped.

They landed a next to half a dozen ships and Amelia was herded out. Someone offered her a hand and she graciously accepted it as she stepped onto the dirt.

"There they are." Her supervisor pointed ahead. "I trust you can find them well enough on your own? I have a meeting."

Amelia nodded. "Yes, thank you."

He turned on his heel and marched away, already muttering something to a clone walking by his side. Amelia sighed and faced the direction he had motioned to and spotted the Omicron-class attack shuttle she had read about in her preparations. She began to walk towards it, cringing as the pain in her ankle flared to life.

The ramp was down, but no one was waiting for her. Amelia lingered at the bottom of the ramp before eventually saying, "Hello? My name is Amelia Kiklam."

A longhaired man stepped off onto the ramp with a wary expression on his face. He had broad shoulders and a red bandana tying his hair back. "Hey."

Amelia shifted her weight onto her non-injured foot. "I'm the data analyst sent to write up a report on your squad."

He held out a hand. "I'm Sergeant Hunter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Amelia shook his offered hand. "I look forward to working with you. I can assure you that I'll stay out of your hair in battle to the best of my ability. Interfering would hinder the results of my observations."

"I'll introduce you to the rest." Hunter entered the ship and didn't look back to see if she followed. He gestured to a thin man with what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face. He had a toothpick sticking out from between his teeth. "That's Crosshair."

"It's nice to meet you," Amelia pleasantly said. "I'm Amelia."

"Don't care," he hissed. "You're the ones that's going to decommission us."

"Actually," Amelia adjusted her glasses, "that depends on your performance while I'm with you. Your records show a hundred percent success rate, but that you don't listen to orders. The impressive success rate might balance out the ignorance of commands, though."

Hunter's lips thinned. "Good to know."

Amelia pushed her brown hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears. "The Republic's biggest concern is if you go rogue."

"Ha!" A burly clone laughed from behind her, throwing his head back. He was bald with a scar around his eye. "And they should be worried! They suck!"

"That's Wrecker," Hunter told her. She was beginning to understand why he had bags under his eyes. "And we're not actually thinking of running away. We're not deserters."

Amelia gave a miniature smile. "I should hope not. That would cut my field work awfully short."

"Where am I taking us?" Another member approached. He was scrawnier than the rest, but she knew that didn't mean anything. He had goggles perched upon his nose and lips that twisted into a frown slightly. His armour was mostly white, while the others had black.

"And that's Tech," Hunter told her. "And Tech, we need to stop by Coruscant. Amelia here needs an armour fitting."

Tech blinked at her before pressing some buttons on his vambrace. "Greetings."

Amelia bobbed her head. "I look forward to working with you."

Tech made a sound of disinterest and turned away, returning to the cockpit.

"We don't exactly have an extra bunk," Hunter awkwardly said. "So we can either take shifts sleeping or you could share..."

Amelia shook her head. "I appreciate it, but I'll be fine without one. I'll sleep in one of the chairs in the cockpit."

Hunter blew out a heavy breath. "If you're sure..."

"I'm used to sleeping in awkward positions," Amelia assured him, although it came out a lot more depressing than she would've liked. "I fall asleep a lot in my office. At my desk."

Hunter sighed. "Just stay rested. Missions are dangerous. I can't have you getting killed. We'll definitely get decommissioned then."

Amelia snorted. "I'll try. I have to do individual reports as well. You're first on my list, as the Sergeant."

Hunter trailed after her to a seat in the cockpit where they ignored Tech's presence. He ignored them as well, enveloped in his piloting.

"So, tell me about you and we'll get into specifics in a bit," Amelia suggested, pulling her datapad out. She typed as he spoke, tilting her head at some points.

"-and we named ourselves the Bad Batch," Hunter finished and watched her as she finished taking notes.

"Mhm," Amelia hummed as her eyes flicked over the screen. "Okay, so what made you decide to give yourself a name? I mean, clones all choose names, but what fueled the decision?"

Hunter tensed. "What does this have to do with our efficiency?"

"It doesn't." Amelia glanced up at him. "It has to do with your ability to follow orders. When you were created you were given numbers, along with an order to stick to those numbers. Technically, names are against protocol."

"It's just a name. Our ability to do as we're told isn't influenced by what we answer to." Hunter narrowed his eyes at her, shifting in his seat.

Amelia studied him for a moment. "Interesting."

Then she went back to taking her notes. Hunter stared at her, stomach twisting with nerves for some reason.

"That will be all," Amelia finally said. Her expression didn't give away anything that she was thinking.

"Should I go get someone else?" Hunter hesitantly asked.

"No." Amelia crossed her legs. "Seeing as Tech is already here, I will speak with him next."

Tech's head snapped up and he cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm quite busy. Perhaps Wrecker would be able to entertain you."

"Entertain me?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. 

Hunter winced.

"Yes." Tech pushed his goggles up the arch of his nose with his index finger. "Seeing as you're not a psychologist, the answers to these questions are meaningless to you. I theorize you're trying to make us feel poorly on purpose."

"Actually," Amelia grinned victoriously, "those answers aren't for me. I send them to a psychologist who analyses them for me to use in my reports. It's required for my job."

"Ah." Tech stood up and sat across from her in the seat Hunter had vacated. "My apologies then. I will allow you to ask me your questions."

Amelia opened a new section in the notes on her datapad. "Excellent."

Crosshair leaned against the doorway as he and his brothers watched the two talk. He glanced over at Hunter. "Do you think she'll really decommission us?"

Hunter shrugged. "It's hard to tell. We just have to make sure we don't mess up too badly."

Crosshair nudged Wrecker. "Did you hear that?"

Wrecker gave his brother a little shove. "Did you hear that?"

Crosshair sneered at him, but Hunter intervened before it could escalate. "Hey. What just happened?"

"What?" Crosshair watched Tech and Amelia. "I don't see anything."

"Exactly." Hunter smiled softly. "He hasn't begun degrading her yet and explaining how her entire life is a failure yet. Maybe we won't be decommissioned."

"Maybe." Crosshair didn't sound convinced.

"Well maybe you should think before you insult my intelligence!" Amelia suddenly shouted. "I'm literally in charge of whether you're discharged!"

Hunter sighed. "Damn it."

"Perhaps you should consider resisting from commenting upon my usefulness in battle then!" Tech retorted, standing up.

Amelia shot up to her feet. "I'm stating a fact that the rest of your squad is designed for fights! You're designed to calculate quicker! What use is that in war? You should be a strategist or something along those likes! Your skills are being wasted!"

Tech thrust a finger into her chest. "I protect my squad! And are you suggesting I take a job similar to yours?"

Amelia swatted his finger away. "Maybe I am."

Tech's lips twisted into a malicious grin. "I would advise against that. I would do it better than you and maybe you'd be decommissioned."

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're totally getting decommissioned."