The massive soundstage in Sydney, Australia, had been completely transformed into a breathtaking, practical masterpiece.
George Lucas, entirely abandoning the constraints of standard television budgets, had ordered the construction of a gigantic, physical section of the Geonosian execution arena. Tons of crushed, red alien dirt covered the massive concrete floor, kicking up a thick layer of dust with every footstep. Three towering stone pillars rose high toward the ceiling, surrounded by gigantic blue screens that the visual effects department would later fill with a screaming alien stadium crowd.
Over two hundred extras were currently on the set.
They were fully dressed in intricately designed Jedi robes and heavy Geonosian warrior armor. The chaotic noise, the suffocating heat from the massive stage lights simulating the alien sun, and the thick dust floating in the air made the coliseum feel undeniably real.
Donovan stood in the absolute center of the red dirt arena, his back pressed tightly against the middle stone pillar.
Thick, heavy prop chains bound his wrists above his head. He was wearing the dark, textured Jedi tunics of Anakin Skywalker. Tied to the pillar on his left was Natalie Portman, dressed in the torn white combat outfit of Padmé Amidala. On his right, Ewan McGregor was chained to the third pillar, perfectly embodying the calm, patient demeanor of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Standing safely behind the massive wall of monitors in the director's village was Scarlett.
She was sitting in a canvas chair, wearing comfortable summer clothes and holding a bright yellow bag of Australian Tim Tams. She looked completely relaxed, happily observing the multi-million-dollar chaos unfolding around her while George Lucas nervously adjusted his headset.
"Alright, everyone!" the first assistant director's voice boomed over the colossal studio loudspeakers. "This is the execution sequence and the Jedi ambush! Stunt team, wait for the beast cues! Background Jedi, wait for Samuel's line!"
"Cameras rolling!"
"Action!" George yelled.
Donovan closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
Deep inside his chest, his ancient, half-god soul actively shifted, molding its vast energy perfectly into the fictional vessel of Anakin Skywalker. The magic that always hummed quietly in his blood transformed, turning completely into the raw, heavy power of the Force.
When Donovan opened his eyes, he was the terrifying Chosen One of the galaxy.
On George's cue, a massive, mechanical rig shaped like a terrifying, horned rhinoceros—the Reek—was pushed into the arena by a team of practical effects workers. It charged aggressively toward Donovan's pillar, kicking up clouds of red dirt.
The original script called for Anakin to struggle against his chains, jump onto the beast's back, and awkwardly use a metal chain to steer it. Donovan had a much better, far more imposing idea for the scene.
Donovan didn't struggle. He didn't even flinch.
He locked his eyes directly onto the mechanical eyes of the beast prop and tapped into the Force. He projected a massive, invisible weight downwards. The heavy, metallic prop actually shuddered. To the absolute shock of the effects team pushing it, the front hydraulic legs buckled under the invisible pressure, forcing the massive prop to drop to its knees directly in front of Donovan in complete submission.
Then, Donovan looked up at his prop chains.
He didn't wait for the props department to release the hidden latches. He simply focused his mind on the internal mechanisms of the locks. With a subtle push of the Force, the heavy metal cuffs snapped open with a loud *clank*, falling harmlessly to the red dirt.
Natalie and Ewan stared at him, genuinely surprised by how effortlessly he had freed himself before the effects crew even touched their remote controls.
"This party's over," a cool, commanding voice echoed across the arena.
High up on the blue-screen balcony set, Samuel L. Jackson stepped forward, igniting a glowing purple prop lightsaber. It was the cue. Suddenly, dozens of Jedi extras ignited their weapons, rushing into the red dirt to surround the pillars. The execution had turned into a massive war.
A stuntman dressed as a Jedi ran past Donovan, tossing a spare lightsaber hilt toward him.
A special effects technician hiding off-camera pulled a nearly invisible fishing wire attached to the prop, meant to guide it into Donovan's hand. But Donovan didn't wait. He reached out and used the Force. The heavy metal hilt snapped through the air, flying straight into his open palm. The invisible wire snapped instantly with a sharp *twang*.
Donovan ignited the weapon and stepped directly into the chaos.
Four heavy stuntmen dressed as Super Battle Droids marched toward him in a tight formation. Instead of mindlessly attacking their thick front armor, Donovan used his environment. He stomped his heavy boot into the red dirt and used the Force to push the ground.
A massive, blinding wall of red dust and sand exploded upward, hitting the droids directly in their visors.
Before the dust even had a chance to settle, Donovan blitzed right through the cloud. He moved with a speed that defied normal human biology. He grabbed the first blinded attacker by the shoulder armor, pulled the man forward, and slammed the hilt of his lightsaber into his chest.
He spun fluidly, swinging his weapon in a wide, aggressive arc. He didn't just tap their prop weapons; he swung with so much physical power that he actively shattered their guards, driving the men violently into the dirt.
A Geonosian warrior charged him from behind, throwing a long metal spear directly at his back.
Donovan didn't even turn around. He simply reached his left hand backward. Using the Force, he caught the heavy spear in mid-air, stopping it dead just inches from his shoulder. With a casual flick of his wrist, he whipped the weapon around and sent the blunt end crashing heavily into the chest of another approaching droid.
He fought for the Light Side, actively moving to protect Natalie and Ewan as they fought nearby, but his combat style was an unbridled, terrifying display of destruction. He wasn't just a swordsman; he was a battlefield commander dismantling an army.
When a group of droids surrounded them, the stunt coordinator yelled the cue for the hydraulic wire team to pull the men backward to simulate a Force push.
Donovan threw both hands outward. He didn't just pretend to push the air. He released a genuine shockwave of power. The heavy blast of air hit the stuntmen a split second before the thick hydraulic cables even tightened. The men flew twenty feet backward through the air, crashing heavily into the safety mats.
He was brilliant, lethal, and brutally efficient. It was a glaring, terrifying flash of the dark enforcer he was destined to become.
"And cut!" George Lucas shouted, his voice cracking with pure excitement.
"That was unbelievable!" the director continued, waving his hands frantically as he stood up from his chair. "The beast dropping, the sandstorm, the speed! I have absolutely no idea how the wire team pulled that off, but it was flawless!"
The tense silence on the massive set broke instantly. Hundreds of extras and crew members immediately started clapping and cheering.
Donovan instantly dropped the heavy, terrifying aura. The connection to the Force receded, settling back into his normal self. He spun the prop lightsaber in his hand, smiling warmly as he helped the stunned stuntmen up from the red dirt, patting their shoulders to make sure they were okay.
"That was some intense Jedi shit, man," a smooth voice called out.
Samuel L. Jackson walked down from the balcony set, his purple lightsaber resting casually on his shoulder. The legendary actor had a massive, impressed smile on his face. He extended his hand, giving Donovan a firm handshake.
"You're one scary kid out there," Samuel laughed loudly. "When you threw that sand up and rushed them in the blind spot, I actually felt bad for the stuntmen. Mace Windu is supposed to be the baddest man in the galaxy, but you are making me look like a pacifist."
"You get to chop off Jango Fett's head, Sam," Donovan joked smoothly, his charismatic smile returning perfectly. "I think you still hold the title for the baddest man in the arena."
"A highly accurate assessment," a deep, incredibly aristocratic voice added from behind them.
The crowd of extras parted respectfully as Sir Christopher Lee approached. The veteran actor, wearing the elegant black and brown cape of Count Dooku, moved with a regal gravitas that commanded absolute attention. He looked at Donovan, his sharp eyes filled with genuine, professional respect.
"Your physical presence on the battlefield is absolute, Donovan," Christopher praised, his legendary voice resonating in the large studio. "Your fencing is aggressive, yes, but highly calculated. It is not mindless swinging; you dismantled their defenses perfectly. I am very much looking forward to our duel."
"The honor is entirely mine, Sir Christopher," Donovan replied, giving the legend a respectful nod. "I promise I won't crush your droids too quickly."
Ewan McGregor walked over, shaking the thick red dust out of his hair. "I am just glad I am on your side, mate. The way you yanked that spear out of the air... it looked so real I forgot we were acting."
Donovan laughed along with his co-stars. The dynamic between the actors was incredible. He wasn't intimidated by the Hollywood legends surrounding him; he stood among them as an absolute equal, respected for his immense talent.
"Take a twenty-minute break, everyone!" the assistant director called out. "We need to reset the dirt and bring in the green screens for the balcony sequence!"
The massive crew immediately scattered, seeking cold water bottles and shade. Donovan walked off the dirt arena, shaking off his heavy boots as he approached the director's village.
Scarlett didn't bother standing up when he approached. She just looked up at him from her canvas chair, tossing another chocolate Tim Tam into her mouth. She was completely unfazed by the terrifying display of power she had just watched.
"You look very angry when you swing that laser sword around," Scarlett teased, offering him the bright yellow bag of cookies.
"It's a lightsaber, Scarlett," Donovan corrected her, easily taking a cookie from the bag. "And I have to look angry. I was just tied to a rock and forced to fight a giant rhino to save the galaxy. It's a highly stressful job."
"You definitely looked like you were trying to break those poor stuntmen in half," Scarlett laughed, shifting her legs to make a little room for him to lean against the equipment table.
"The brutal efficiency is exactly what the character needs," George Lucas intervened, turning his chair around. "When the audience sees you blinding enemies with sand and crushing them, they will understand exactly why the Council fears you. You are a one-man army."
"I'm glad it translated well, George," Donovan smiled respectfully.
Donovan leaned back against the heavy wooden table next to Scarlett's chair, completely relaxed. He wasn't even sweating despite the heavy robes and the intense heat of the studio lights.
"So," Donovan asked, looking down at her. "Are you bored of watching me pretend to be a space wizard yet?"
"Not entirely," Scarlett admitted, looking up at him with a bright, highly playful smile. "The craft services table is excellent. And watching you aggressively throw grown men across a dirt arena is surprisingly entertaining."
"I'm glad I can provide quality entertainment," Donovan smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Though I do have a complaint," Scarlett added, raising a single blonde eyebrow. "You promised me we were going to go explore Sydney. So far, the only thing I have actively explored is this giant fake coliseum and the hotel lobby."
"Patience, New York," Donovan promised softly, his tone dropping into that comfortable, highly flirtatious rhythm they had perfected over the last few months.
"We wrap filming for the week on Friday afternoon. I already rented a private boat to take us out on the harbor. No paparazzi, no directors, and absolutely no laser swords."
Scarlett bit her lower lip, fighting back a massive, genuine smile.
The undeniable romantic tension between them was thicker than the artificial heat of the massive soundstage. Having her here in Australia, completely isolated from the chaos of Los Angeles and the pressure of their sudden global fame, felt perfectly right.
"A private boat?" Scarlett asked, tilting her head slightly. "Are you trying to impress me, boss?"
"I don't need a boat to impress you," Donovan replied effortlessly, his dark eyes locking entirely onto hers. "But the view of the Opera House at sunset is supposed to be decent."
"Donovan! We need you in wardrobe for a quick tunic adjustment!" a costume designer yelled from across the busy set.
Donovan let out a soft sigh, pushing himself off the wooden table. The massive machine of the movie production never stopped moving.
"Duty calls," Donovan said, looking back down at Scarlett. "Save some of those cookies for me."
"No guarantees," Scarlett teased, waving him away playfully.
Donovan walked back toward the massive, dusty coliseum. He was about to go back to being the most terrifying warrior in the galaxy, but his mind was already completely focused on a quiet, private boat ride at sunset.