Star Wars: Imagines

| 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ➪ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐱 |

Prompt:
Commander Fox is sick of the Republic's ways, and deserts the war.

Requested by a_smto_fan

Part 1!

She/Her❥

2nd POV
♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

                Being in a mercenary incampment and potentially being a martyr never really frightened you. It's all you've ever known. You were talented enough, being able to shoot with any weapon the men gave you, and being able to throw knives in a pinch. You were a clutch member of the militia, 'The Grey Morning.' Your gang didn't really have an alliance towards either side of the war, but many of your friends felt very strongly towards the Republic, and wanting to serve them in anyway they could,

                  "Hawk, I'm sure we could take that supplies camp if we tried!" one of your friends, Gun Oil, proposed to your leader. Hawk was a renowned man; grey hair and a braided beard that fell to the floor. There are rumors that go around that claim he's a rogue Jedi, but you didn't believe it.

                 Hawk shook his head, his yellow eyes, the signature trait he was named after, blinking steadily, "I understand how eager you are, Gun Oil, but we haven't been hired to do so. That's not how we work. And besides, sure we have numbers in retrospect, but we don't have the people to go up against the Separatist Alliance. It would be suicide."

                 "I agree," you sneered, laying your hand on your friend's shoulder, "Let's stick with the small missions, okay? Everything makes a difference."

                  Gun Oil shrugged you off and huffed, waltzing out, "We'd be a better group if we actually had the balls to do something big. We need to make an impact."

                  "We're an unbiased organization," your leader snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest. Gun Oil just ignored him and walked out, "What are we gonna do with that boy?"

                  "He will grow up," you commented, defending your friend, "You know why he hates the Seppies so much. You can't really blame him for wanting to hit them where it hurts— we all do."

                    Hawk's gaze softens. The elder laid his hand roughly on your shoulder and nods in agreement, "We'd need a miracle to do so. Even the Republic can't keep up with the droids, and they have the Clones. The Grey Morning is strictly volunteers. I admire your drive for change though, (Y/N)."

                    Shrugging, you step towards the door, "I'm gonna go on patrol. Make sure the Clones aren't abusing power amongst commoners. Would you watch Gun Oil for me while I'm gone? It wouldn't surprise me if he'd try to take on the Separatists by himself."

                    "I'll watch him like a Hawk," the old man joked, smirking at your eye roll. He was like a father to you.

Grabbing your blaster, you slunk into the bright streets of Coruscant. Although it was well past midnight, the streets were bustling and full of life. Your organization stayed on the lower levels of the planet, but Clones still patrolled. It was rare that you'd spot something you'd need to intervene with, but sometimes it still happened. You've saved a lot of people on your patrols.

The stench of death sticks and spices filled the lower levels where you've called your home since the war began. There was nothing out of the ordinary going on. A few Annoo-Dat Prime sat lazily; each of their four eyes gazing around aimlessly. Something however, did catch your eye,