Hi All, well I'm home again sick - I hate this cold. However in the last hour I've put together this short fan fic. I may expand on it later, but here it is for now...

Emotions were something Boba Fett liked to think he lacked, although he could never truly be rid of such an essential part of himself. Fear was an early alarm system for all beings, though Fett had dulled it down to a feeling of tension whenever danger was near.

Fett saw emotion as the weak point in most beings. Fear fed misguided illusions and Fett had learnt how to use those against the merchandise he hunted. As much as Fett would like to think of himself as emotionless, he wasn’t.

After the death of his father, Fett had decided never to be attached to anything, no friends, no family and especially no love. He saw it as the downfall of so many others in the universe. Fett made sure those he was tied to through work were nothing more than contacts. He made sure that those who served him, owed him something.

But even as Fett walled himself in from emotions, there was one thing that he still reacted to: the sound of his father’s voice. It was something that Fett had to live with initially when his voice broke. But hearing his own words in his father’s voice had been too much to bear to such a scarred soul. So Fett had his voice box modified, his voice was changed to a gravely gruffness and he made sure he lost his father’s accent.

However there were still times when Fett heard his father’s voice. The scant few clone troopers that remained now appeared the age that Jango was prior to his death. Fett ignored them on the most part, but it was inevitable that his niggling fear of emotions towards his father would one day surface.

The hunt had begun like most others, he’d been given a name, a price and a rough location. Fett was starting to make a name for himself, although he wasn’t as high up in the food chain as he would have liked.

The merchandise was a human named Ralah Nabb. As usual the criminal had hired himself some thugs to ‘distract’ any bounty hunters who tried their luck. Fett had to admit they were good. At least the first three had lasted 10 minutes longer than most others he fought.

As he had drawn closer to Nabb’s hideout he’d come across a much more experienced fighter. He was wearing body armour and a helmet with the faceplate down. He didn’t attempt to shoot Fett, instead he motioned to him with nothing more than a vibroblade in his hand.

Fett had immediately admired the mercenary’s style. It was rare for Fett to come across an accomplished fighter. Fett had lowered his blaster rifle and pulled his own vibroblade from his shin sheath.

The two combatants circled each other initially, both assessing the other. Watching for any indication of injury or ailment, Fett took his time and decided to let his opponent make the first move.

The mercenary stepped to the left then jabbed to the right, Fett wasn’t fooled by the move and slashed at the merc’s forearm. He almost smiled as he saw the faint tint of red beside the plate of armour.

The merc looked at his arm nonchalantly. “Is that supposed to faze me?” The merc asked.

Fett froze as he recognised the voice. He was fighting a clone and as he took another look at the armour it was evident that this one had been a commando. Fett’s moment of surprise was to cost him. The merc kicked out and caught Fett in the shin making him momentarily stumble. He took a cut to his upper arm.

Lucky for Fett, it was only a graze as he managed to pull himself together and roll away. He made the mistake into an attack, he lashed out at the merc’s knees, as the merc moved Fett jabbed him in the ankle.

The merc cursed. “You’re much feistier than the other bounty hunters who’ve come here.”

Fett remained silent. He filtered the voice out of his thoughts. He listened only to the words.

“Not a talker I see.” The merc said as he lunged at Fett’s torso.

Fett dodged but caught the merc by the arm and flung him around and held his blade against the merc’s throat.

The merc didn’t drop his weapon, instead he stabbed Fett in the thigh. “I thought you were an honourable opponent.” Fett said as he pulled the bloody blade from his thigh.

“You thought wrong.” The merc said as he drew a blaster.

Fett didn’t react to the blaster he merely assessed the bloody blade in his hand. “I would have thought a commando would give a more impressive performance.”

Fett noticed that the merc took a step back in surprise. Despite having his face covered, it was quite obvious that the merc was shocked. “How’d you know what I am?”

Throwing the bloodied vibroblade into the ground Fett did something he’d never done before, he removed his Mandalorian helmet before an enemy.

The merc gasped as he recognised the face. “You’re still young, but how?”

“I am the price for Jango’s services as the DNA donor to the clone army: an unaltered clone of himself.” Fett stated.

The merc lifted his faceplate as if to confirm what he was seeing with his own eyes. “So you did survive. I had heard of such a clone but I thought he’d been killed with Jango.”

“I wished it at the time, but revenge and the desire to live longer than your enemies kept me going. At least initially, I live for something else now.” Fett told.

“What do you live for?” The merc asked.

“Justice.” Fett said simply.

The merc nodded at that and flipped his faceplate back down. “I understand why you are here then. Unfortunately that makes us enemies, brother.”

This time Fett didn’t react to the association he had with his ‘enemy’ instead he felt somewhat cleansed in being able to tell one of his brethren the truth. He would not feel joy at the death of this merc but nor would he feel guilty. He was fighting a fellow clone who knew what he was doing with a weapon.

Fett donned his helmet. He wasn’t going to leave his head exposed, it was only calling for trouble.

The merc shot at him but Fett was already moving, he pulled his blaster rifle back into his hands as he merged into the cover of the surrounding scrub. Fett had a distinct advantage against the merc, he could run if he needed to even with the wound. Fett had learned long ago to detach himself from pain.

However Fett decided he would end the fight honourably. As the merc began searching for him, Fett rounded on him and observed silently. The merc was limping well now. Blood was dripping from his injured ankle but he seemed to be ignoring the pain to the best of his ability.

The merc must have sensed he was being watched. He turned and fired in Fett’s general direction. But Fett had already moved positions. He now flanked the merc.

“What happened to your squad?” Fett asked before moving to another area of cover.

The merc fired, but still he answered. “My original squad died on Genosis. I was then assigned to a new squad, they lasted a few years before we were sent into a meat grinder. We all know the Emperor wants to be rid of the clones. We’re not sociably agreeable anymore.”

“We weren’t made to be sociable.” Fett whispered quietly to himself. He’d seen the suicide missions the Emperor had sent clones to over the last few years on various holos. He wanted to be rid of the aging clones. It was becoming a great honour to be accepted into the Imperial Academy.

Fett looked up to were the merc was standing and was surprised when he saw a thermal detonator flying towards the merc. Fett turned to see the faint reflection of sunlight hitting scales. “Trandoshan.” Fett hissed under his breath as the explosion sounded.

The merc had been thrown to the ground, his blaster had been lost in the chaos and the Trandoshan had come out to see the damage. It took Fett a moment to realise who it was. It was Bossk, a new comer to the bounty hunting trade. Obviously hoping to gain some recognition from his father’s name.

When Bossk came to admire his handy work, he realised the merc wasn’t dead. With a clawed hand he sank his talons into the merc’s throat. Fett ground his teeth at the dishonour. This hadn’t been Bossk’s fight, yet he’d killed the merc.

Fett pulled a dart from his belt pouch. It was one tipped with a venom that made Trandoshans very sick. It wouldn’t kill Bossk, but it would make him wish he were dead. Fett loaded his wrist launcher and aimed at the Transdoshan’s soft tissue under the arm.

The dart struck exactly where Fett wanted it. Bossk hissed and pulled the dart from his armpit. He eyed the surrounds. “Show yourself!” He demanded.

But Fett would not show himself to such a lowly beast.

After a brief but angry search, Bossk left the dying merc and continued on his way.

Once Fett was sure the murderous hunter was gone he went to the merc lying on the ground. Fett lifted the faceplate to see the face of Jango Fett. But this wasn’t Jango, the thought seemed to ease Fett’s battered soul. The eyes of the clone looked searchingly but they weren’t focusing. He tried to speak but couldn’t.

Fett touched his gloved hand to the clone’s cheek. “The end has come brother, rest in peace.” With that Fett twisted the clone’s head and broke his neck, ending his suffering. Fett moved his gloved hand to close the clone’s eyelids then he lowered the faceplate. “May you go to a better place.”

That day Fett captured Nabb and made sure Bossk knew exactly who had beaten him to the punch. He made an enemy that day in the Trandoshan, but that didn’t matter. He’d finally been able to free himself of the ghost of Jango, which would allow him to become the best bounty hunter in the galaxy.