Location: Spear II
For a man so successful in his trade, he sure was a failure.
It started at birth, or creation. The terms were interchangeable, but it always depends on who you ask- but who really asked? All Clones, as it was claimed, were to grow up loyal to the Republic or they didn't grow up at all. That wasn't the case with ARC-4422, however. He grew up resenting the Republic, it's institution, and it's treatment of Clones. The Commando viewed himself as nothing more than a slave soldier, bound to a cause he didn't believe in. It was his loyalty to his brothers that kept him there. Leaving them was to be a coward, and that Clone was too full of pride to make a fool of himself in that regard.
The Jedi took control of these armies. Wielding the rank of General as well as their Lightsabers. The Clones? Their Commanders, Captains, Lieutenants, and Sergeants all had to heed their inexperienced and untrained words, marching blindly into death 'for the Republic!' or so it was exclaimed by those that were more akin to mindless drones. 4422 was convinced the Jedi were responsible for more deaths than the Droids, and so his hatred for them was justified (or so he thought). He disobeyed orders, and they best consider themselves lucky that the ARC wasn't there for Order 66. He'd of enjoyed gunning them down in the street, or on a battlefield. No matter where.
Protocol: The official procedure or system of rules governing affairs of state or diplomatic occasions. It's definition was different in the military context, but the core values remained the same, however. It was an issue for the Clone. ARC-4422 broke it without as much as a second thought on a regular basis. Perhaps he had a mind of his own, and that led him to disagreeing with such a thing. His biggest offence? Love. He loved Evonne Harper, and she loved him. Clones didn't feel love, that was what protocol dictated. Perhaps his biggest defect was being human. It wasn't as if that mattered much anymore though, did it? Reality drummed out that feeling. Seemed that was a curse with the Fett gene, or at the very least with those that made it out on their own. Jango? Family slaughtered, second family slaughtered, companion murdered. Boba? Father killed before him, forced to leave his wife and daughter. Koda? Born a slave, family ripped from him, a failed marriage, torn apart from everything he ever knew.
Clones were Clones. An army of one man, but the right man for the job. They found solace in their job, in their duty and themselves. ARC-4422 desired a life of his own, and whether that was the twisting of his lover's ambitions, or the need to be an individual was anyone's guess. The fatal Order was thrust upon the Galaxy, and the Jedi were slaughtered in droves. 4422? Order 88, destroy the SBI and it's members. What did he do? He warned his lover, allowing her to escape. Then he carried out his mission before turning on his own, detonating the nuclear reactor, killing all those within the area as he escaped within a shuttle. Perhaps the only man to truly double-cross the Emperor. For that he may be labelled one thing:
That was Fett. He wasn't a Clone, he was a Man. His own man. In a moment of recollection that realisation became apparent. ARC-4422? Doubles? That's not who he is, but who he was. It was time to stop running from ARC-4422, otherwise known as Doubles. It was time to kill Doubles instead. Koda Fett is who lives.
The Mandalorian pressed a singular button, and that button opened up a compartment within the area Aay'han was present in. If he dared to look towards it, he would notice the armour of an Advanced Recon Commando- one the the can recognise as Doubles', if he did remember, after all.