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The Bad Batch, as a whole, was a pretty well put-together group. Sure, they started their share of fights (finished plenty of them, too, heh), but overall they were considered professionals in the field despite their...let's say bombastic tactics. Even when plans had to be tossed out the window, they stayed cool and collected.
The only exception, of course, being when one of their own went unexpectedly comms-dark during a mission.
"Have you got a signal yet, Tech?" asked Hunter, arms folded, tapping his boot rapidly against the ground. His helmet was resting on a nearby rock, the visor pointed his way in silent judgement over his horribly tangled hair (from running his hands through it repeatedly), red face (from a combination of the heat of the planet and stress), and inability to stop fidgeting.
To his credit, Hunter was far from the only one in disarray. Tech, tapping away at his datapad so furiously he had to repeatedly stop because the interface couldn't keep up with his speed, had such a deep furrow to his brow that was obvious through both his goggles and HUD even with readouts flying so thick they couldn't quite see his eyes; Wrecker was outright pacing, his stomping feet leaving visible footprints even in the hard-packed soil, fists clenched and looking about two seconds away from violence and/or a nervous breakdown; and even Crosshair wasn't quite his normal self, his expression unmoved, but grinding his teeth so hard he was going through about a toothpick every five minutes (his brothers were silently a little terrified of what he'd do when he ran out).
"There is still no sign of him," Tech replied, forced to pause again so his program could catch up. "His comm seems to be damaged, and the tracking chip in his armor was short-circuited, likely by the explosion which separated us."
"You've said that five times already!" shouted Wrecker, pausing his stomping to shoot Tech an uncharacteristic scowl. "Can't you find anything!?"
Tech took a moment to breathe before he answered, tone cold. "As I have said, there is nothing I can do that I have not already been doing. Short of either of those miraculously repairing themselves, or Echo gaining the time and space to do so himself, I. Know. Nothing."
"Crosshair, you're sure he looked okay when you saw him?" asked Hunter, turning to their sniper.
The glower Crosshair shot at him could have melted durasteel. "In the split second between the first rocks falling and the tunnel's collapse, the Reg was standing," he near-hissed, his latest toothpick snapping into pieces. He spit the half still in his mouth to join the small pile of others at his feet without missing a beat, pulled out a new one from his utility pouches, and when he put it in his mouth he bit down on it hard enough it immediately and visibly splintered.
Hunter ran his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, roughly tugging at the knots and knocking his headband slightly off-kilter on the way, then let out a long sigh. "Then...there's nothing we can do but go to the rendezvous and hope he'll meet us there."
Wrecker gave a frustrated, wordless yell and kicked the nearest rock so hard it cracked, never mind that it was as big as he was.
Hunter sighed again in agreement.
Meanwhile, on the other side of a blocked cave system, Echo was debating with himself on what to do. His first instinct was to retreat to the rendezvous point they'd arranged before the mission even began (Crosshair had scoffed and called it unnecessary when Echo insisted, which, ha! Showed him what he knew!), but he was trapped on the side of the cave that led directly into the Separatist stronghold they were supposed to sabotage due to the very explosives they were going to use for the mission (he'd told Wrecker to stop tossing the detonater around like it was a boloball, but who ever listened to "the Reg," anyway? And no he was not bitter about that, stop trying to psychoanalyze him, Tech!!), so that was a bust.
With that, he only had two viable options. Option one, he could go stealth and sneak through the base, then meet up with the others at the rendezvous before they all came back to finish the mission; his mouth twisted in annoyance at that thought. The 501st was supposed to be picking up some shinies on Kamino in two cycles, and since Clone Force 99 was due to be back from this mission at the same time, he, Rex, Kix, and Jesse had arranged to meet up and just hang out in a way they hadn't really been able to when he was first saved. But if it was delayed—which it would be if he wasted all that time to be covert, walking the klick to get to their meet-up, enduring a million tests from Tech to make sure he wasn't too bad off after the collapse, then hike the whole way back to blow up the base with the others—there was no way he'd make it before the 501st left for their next battle.
On the other hand, option two, Echo could just...finish the mission himself...
(If Fives were there, he would have been able to predict the incoming chaos based solely on the cant of Echo's slow smile...but he wasn't, so no one would see it coming.)
If the original four Bad Batchers were uneasy/worried/angry/etc when first separated from Echo, two hours later, they were absolutely beside themselves.
"What if he's hurt!?" worried Wrecker just short of hysterically, wringing his hands so hard he'd torn his gloves and the skin underneath was starting to look raw. He was too busy looking around, his good eye wide, to notice. "Maybe one'a those rocks hit'im, or the Seps snuck up on him, or his legs got broke—what if he's hungry, or scared, or thirsty, or bored, or, or—or—UGHHHH!!!"
"He'll be fine," Hunter stressed as if his hair wasn't a wild, tangled, frizzy mess from his nervously fidgeting with it. His headband had been knocked down until it rested loosely around his neck, threatening to tangle in the seam where his helmet attached if he forgot it was there, and his eyes were more than a little crazed. "Echo was an ARC before he joined us, he'll be fine!"
"How many times have we gone to extract ARCs who were stuck in botched missions?" asked Crosshair lowly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He'd run out of his seemingly-infinite supply of toothpicks, and his patience seemed to run out with it, judging by the way he'd assembled his rifle and was now repeatedly checking the site was lined up and the clip was fully loaded.
"Echo has always presented himself as the voice of reason," Tech sort-of reassured from where he was sitting on a flat boulder nearby. It was a 'sort-of' because he hadn't stopped typing away at his datapad the entire time, the furrows on his brow more like craters from how intense they were and his leg bouncing uncontrollably. "He is also the one who picked this spot in case of situations just such as this. I'm sure he is on his way and has already prepared a new plan to...—what?!!"
The other three perked up and looked at Tech, whose leg stilled so fast that dust swirled around his boot, fingers pressed hard against his pad screen. "Echo's dataprint is now visible. It seems he has elected to continue the mission without us, as he has sliced into the Separatists' base—" was as far as the genius got before he was cut off once more. This time, instead of his own surprise, it was by the sound of a distant explosion followed by a blaring alarm that was cut off soon after by another, bigger explosion.
The entire Batch turned to stare at the smoke and flames that leapt up from the direction of the base they were supposed to destroy.
There was another explosion, and they bolted.
Meanwhile, Echo was having, heh, a blast.
"This is barely a fight!" he teased no one in particular, scomped into the terminal he'd commandeered even as he continued to shoot the B-1 droids that were trying to get to him. Unfortunately for them, the only entryway to the room was barely big enough for one or two to come in at a time, which made taking them out as easy as shooting a saltfish in a tank even with most of his mind focused on slicing through the base's records. "C'mon, you buckets of bolts! You could at least try to give me a challenge!!!"
"How is he doing this!?" wailed a droid from somewhere in the crowd, sounding as horrified as a droid with as basic of programming as they had could as Echo found and remotely detonated yet another of the proton bombs they kept in case of Republic attack. "He is merely one clone!!!"
Echo smirked, pleased as two more went down to his blaster, and ignored the tingling where his scomp link met his flesh as he continued to trawl through reams of data and programs. "See, that's where you're wrong. I'm not 'merely one clone'..."
He found the file he was looking for and his smirk turned into a bloodthirsty grin. "...I'm a defective clone!" he crowed, activating its killswitch.
A final explosion tore through the droid hoard and the building groaned like a dying Zillo Beast. The ceiling crumbled as the final supporting wall fell, threatening to bury the once-Reg along with the machines he'd just destroyed.
Laughter echoed through the newly created ruins as pieces of durasteel collapsed and the smoke engulfed the single figure still standing.
The original Bad Batch came upon the sight of the collapsed, still-smoldering remains of the base and, as one slack-jawed entity, they stared.
Perched on a bunch of debris with a casual smile only slightly marred by his bloody lip, a pile of broken durasteel and droids between he and the quartet, Echo leaned back on his good hand, lounging in a way that resembled nothing so much as a freshly-fed tooka who had found a comfy spot of sunshine.
"What took you guys so long?" he asked, drawling, smile morphing into a self-satisfied grin as he took in their disbelief.
Crosshair broke first, swinging his rifle onto his back and stalking forward with a menacingly pointed finger, hissing, "You infuriating, reckless, smug piece of absolute shit—!"
His deliberately threatening stride was over taken by Wrecker, who was near bawling as he grabbed Echo off his perch into a swinging hug, blubbering equally emotionally about how glad he was that Echo was okay and how amazingly impressive his destruction of the base was then demanding to know how he'd gotten such impressive explosions off without any their equipment. Crosshair, still swearing, made it to one side of the two at the same time Tech appeared on the other, their genius's normal datapad switched out for a medical scanner as he checked Echo over and asked rapid-fire questions about how he was feeling.
After watching the others for a few moment, Hunter raised a hand to his forehead with a huff, shaking his head to hide his reluctant smile as he watched their newest brother expertly distract Wrecker from his concern, counter Crosshair's (well-meaning) insults to his intelligence and self-preservation with his own snarky replies, and soothe Tech with reassurances that he was fine other than some superficial wounds and soreness—all at the same time. If he'd had any subconscious, lingering doubts about Echo's place on their squad, they were now thoroughly destroyed.
(They were destroyed even further when they got back to the ship and Tech revealed that Echo had to have his entire scomp re-wired due to burnout, earning one of Hunter's infamous lectures. Echo acted like he was contrite, but given this was far from the first time he'd done this to himself, none of them bought it.)
(Echo was just happy that being down a limb—well, moreso than usual—didn't stop him from trouncing his brothers from the 501st in sabaac.)