The crimson child -Male Sith Reader-

Second wave

"Thanks to you, we now have a secure landing zone, Lord (S/N)." Obi-Wan commented as the clones and your troopers built up a temporary camp to aid the wounded.

"I merely did, what I had to, Obi-Wan." you respond with a prideful nod.

In the distance you notice the newly arrived Commander Havok getting into trouble with one of the Clone Troopers from the 501st. You can feel your Commander's emotion rise from within; anger and rage begin to fill his head as the argument with the clone progressed. Amused by the little dispute, you decide to give things a chance and let it happen.

"Take away the gun, what else can you mass produced want-to-be soldiers handle?" Commander Havok spouted with mocker dripping from his words.

The clone trooper, Brawl, squared his shoulders, his white helmet masking his expression. "We may be mass-produced, but we've got more heart than you could ever have." he retorted with a hint of defiance.

The tension in the air was palpable as Commander Havok and Clone Trooper Brawl continued their heated exchange. The troops from both sides watched with bated breath, knowing that the situation was dangerously close to boiling over.

Commander Havok's anger continued to simmer just beneath the surface. "You clones are nothing but glorified droids! Manufactured and programmed to obey without question. You'll never understand what it means to fight for something you believe in."

Brawl, his defiance unyielding, fired back, "And what do you know about believing in a cause? You're just a band of misfits who think they're above the rest of us because they weren't made in a lab. You've got no discipline, no training, and no purpose."

"You know what the difference between us and you clones is?", Commander Havok asked without the intention of letting Brawl answer on his own, "Our potential is limitless compared to you, who were bred and programmed."

With tensions reaching their breaking point, Brawl decided that words couldn't match the anger surging through him. In a fit of rage, he threw the first punch, which connected squarely with Commander Havok's face. The impact of the blow caused Havok's head to snap back, and for a moment, it seemed like the world held its breath.

Rather than retaliating immediately, Havok, unyielding and unfazed, took the punch head-on, not even attempting to block it. He simply absorbed the force of the strike, his steely resolve clear in his unwavering stance. After the clone trooper backed up, Havok raised his hands, ready for battle. The camp fell into a hushed silence as they awaited the next move, realizing that the confrontation had escalated to the point of no return.

The air crackled with tension as the two combatants faced each other, both determined to prove their worth. Brawl lunged forward, a flurry of punches and kicks aimed at Commander Havok. Havok, agile and well-trained, dodged and countered with precision. The fight escalated into a chaotic dance of blows and blocks, each participant showcasing their unique skills.

As the clash between Brawl and Commander Havok unfolded, you couldn't help but marvel at the intensity of their confrontation. The camp had transformed into a makeshift arena, with troops forming a circle around the combatants, their expressions a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Brawl, fuelled by the frustration of being labelled as nothing more than a "mass-produced clone," fought with a raw and primal energy. His attacks were powerful, but Havok's calculated movements allowed him to evade most of the onslaught. The air crackled with the sound of blows connecting, creating a rhythm that echoed through the camp.

Commander Havok, on the other hand, fought with a disciplined precision that displayed years of training and experience. Each block and counter seemed almost effortless, a testament to his skill as a warrior. The contrast between the two combatants was evident, one a product of genetic engineering, the other a result of individuality and choice.