Cadets.
Summary: Young Crosshair struggles with being “different”.
Note: This was inspired by a short comic I saw on Pinterest. I couldn’t find the original artist, but the credit for this idea goes to them!
“Hey, defect!” A snobby little reg called from across the corridor. Crosshair ignored the brat and kept walking down the shiny white hallway. He wanted to be strong, stoic, like Hunter always was. But those stupid little perfect-faced regs kept attacking him, and over time it had begun to take its toll.
“What’s your problem?” One of them called, their voice laced with mock sympathy. “Get you face squashed in a door?”
Crosshair bent his head down, anger spreading over his face. Ignore them, he thought. Like Tech said. They can’t keep burning if you don’t give them fuel.
Although he had quickened his pace to escape them, he got the opposite results. The group of regs started following him.
“Aw, what’s wrong, adiik?” One of them chided, now matching his pace with Crosshair’s. These regs couldn’t be more than an average year older than him, they shouldn’t be calling him a kid.
Crosshair stopped in his tracks, whipping his head up to scowl at the “leader” of this idiotic little squad. The reg just smirked at him.
“Shut you mouth,” Crosshair hissed. So much for not giving them fuel. The reg took a step back holding his hands up. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Another one stepped up next to him, crossing his arms. “What’cha gonna do, defect?” They had officially crossed the line.
Before Crosshair even thought about it, he sucker-punched the leader kid square in the face. The reg stumbled back a bit, feeling at his nose. A thin stream of scarlet blood dripped down over his lips. The shock on his face was quickly replaced by fury, and Crosshair regretted throwing that punch.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one,” he said through gritted teeth, shaking the blood off his fingers.
Several of the regs leapt on him, grabbing his arms and holding them tight behind his back. Panic swept over him and he squirmed, trying to kick behind him at the regs holding him. But then they grabbed his legs too.
“Too bad you’re already as ugly as you’ll get,” the leader said. He then punched Crosshair in the nose. A snap of pain blossomed from his nose, and he felt something warm trickle down his face. Apparently that hadn’t been enough for the bully, and he punched him again. And again.
Soon the other kids joined him, kicking him in the gut or in the shins. Crosshair had quickly given up fighting. He was outnumbered and overpowered. He would just have to wait until someone came along and…
“Hey!” A gruff voice called. All of the regs froze, turning to look up at whoever had found them. Crosshair’s right eye was swollen to the point where it was almost shut, but he could still see who had come to his rescue.
“What are you doin’?” Ninety-nine cried. “What are you beating ‘im up for?” His lopsided face was creased with hurt.
“Mind your own business, defect,” the leader spat. Ninety-nine didn’t. He pushed through the little crowd of regs and stopped at the one who was holding Crosshairs arms.
“Come on kid,” Ninety-nine said softly. “Let ‘im go.” The reg did so quickly, apparently much more afraid of him than his sassy leader.
Ninety-nine grabbed Crosshair by the shoulders and started leading him away from the bullies, who had silently resigned.
After the two had turned a corner, Ninety-nine tried to convince Crosshair to go see a medic, but he refused. He was strong enough by himself. He didn’t want help. So, bruised and bloody, he stumbled into the room he called home and collapsed on his bunk.
Why does it have to be this way? He thought. Why couldn’t he be like all the other clones? And why couldn’t he be strong? How did Hunter do it?
He then realized why it was so easy for Hunter to be brave. He was like all the others. Beside his heightened senses, he was a reg. He could fit in. Crosshair couldn’t.
Crosshair didn’t know how long it was before someone entered the room. But he could tell by the way they crept across the room ever so quietly that it was Hunter. Of course it was him. And now Crosshair would get lectured by someone who had it easy.
“Vod?” Hunter said, settling himself on the edge of the bed next to Crosshair. “Go away,” Crosshair said into his pillow. Hunter sighed, almost inaudibly. “I know-“ he began, but Crosshair didn’t let him finish.
“No, Hunter,” he said, sitting up to face his brother. “You don’t know. You never will, because you’re like them. You don’t get bullied.”
Hunter couldn’t find the words to respond, so, silently, after Crosshair retreated to his pillow, he left. His response wasn’t with words, because actions always speak louder. From then on, Hunter let his hair grow long, and he kept it that way. For Crosshair’s sake, he wanted to be different.
