(ON HIATUS) Execute Order Sixty-Soup: A Crack Fanfiction!

Chapter Two: Rivals

The clone above is about the happiest guy I've seen for soup time. Just wait until he locks horns with Crosshair... 

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It was the best time of day for Crosshair. To break the fourth wall for a moment, where would you guess his favorite place is? Definitely NOT the training facility where he monitored the lackadaisical shots of his new sniper students.

The mess hall, obviously! Rampart had spoken with the food providers to make the necessary promised arrangements, and those arrangements were finally official.

He saw the glorious new menu next to the countertop where he placed his tray. Such wonderful names: Soup 1, Soup 2, Soup 3, and so on. Whispering those names aloud gave him more tingles of excitement than the ASMR recordings Tech showed him from the HoloNet.

It was best to go in chronological order when trying the new soups. Good soldiers follow orders, after all. Good soldiers that follow orders also get good soup, Crosshair thought. He punched in the code for Soup 1 in the dispensing machine. As the broth and its lumpy companions poured out, he felt the familiar sense of peace.

So soothing...

Crosshair retrieved a fork once the bowl was filled to its brim and went to take a seat in the corner of the mess hall. 

As he was enjoying his fifth slurp, his peace was interrupted by quite the scene going on a few tables over. Paying attention to the regs was pointless in most cases, but when one of them was standing on top of a table preaching loudly, he couldn't ignore it. He focused on the clone's speech only to hear words that pierced his eardrums like a screeching Yalbec.

"I am the SOUP KING! Who dares challenge me?"

What blasphemy did this reg just speak?

One of the regs watching the scene scolded his friend. "Oh come on, CT-7645. You're eating those Kowakian mushrooms again, aren't you? Get down!"

"I'm not CT-7645. The name's Broth, and don't you forget it!"

"I thought you took those mushrooms away," another clone muttered.

"But they taste good!" the clone called "Broth" protested. "They make a good snack in the middle of the night."

Though this wasn't the weirdest thing Crosshair had seen in the mess hall, it made him fume with the power of a dozen hyperdrives. How dare that clone call himself the Soup King!? And what kind of dunderhead names themselves Broth!? 

Crosshair passionately believed that if the title of Soup King was bestowed upon anyone, it should be him!

He was annoyed by most confrontations, but this came quite naturally to him. He slowly placed a napkin over the bowl of soup to prevent heat from a escaping. I'll come back for you, he promised. He cleared his throat and spoke with the undertones of a serpent. 

"What did I hear you say?"

The group of clones surrounding the leading man on the table all fell silent, each of their chiseled buzzed haircuts turning to face him. 

Crosshair eased out of his seat, equipping himself with a toothpick. Who knew that a small twig lining the mouth could make you so intimidating?

"I'm talking to the one on the table," he hissed.

"Ah, if it isn't the notorious sniper of Clone Force 99," the numskull called "Broth" announced. "Are you hear to challenge me in a game?"

With a tilt of his head, Crosshair squinted his eyes sharply. "What kind of game?"