Tell me Quanchi, which version do you like more. RotS film or Stover's book?
each portrays a different version of the fight.
"Dooku, cringing, shrinking with dread, still finds some hope in his heart that he is wrong, that Palpatine has not betrayed him, that this has all been proceeding according to plan— Until he hears "Good, Anakin! Good! I knew you could do it!" and registers this is Palpatine's voice and feels within the darkest depths of all he is the approach of the words that are to come next. "Kill him," Palpatine says. "Kill him now." In Skywalker's eyes he sees only flames. "Chancellor, please!" he gasps, desperate and helpless, his aristocratic demeanor invisible, his courage only a bitter memory. He is reduced to begging for his life, as so many of his victims have.
"Please, you promised me immunity! We had a deal! Help me!" And his begging gains him a share of mercy equal to that which he has dispensed. "A deal only if you released me," Palpatine replies, cold as intergalactic space. "Not if you used me as bait to kill my friends." And he knows, then, that all has indeed been going according to plan. Sidious's plan, not his own. This had been a Jedi trap indeed, but Jedi were not the quarry. They were the bait. "Anakin," Palpatine says quietly. "Finish him." Years of Jedi training make Anakin hesitate; he looks down upon Dooku and sees not a Lord of the Sith but a beaten, broken, cringing old man. "I shouldn't—" But when Palpatine barks, "Do it! Now!" Anakin realizes that this isn't actually an order. That it is, in fact, nothing more than what he's been waiting for his whole life. Permission. And Dooku— [b]As he looks up into the eyes of Anakin Skywalker for the final time, Count Dooku knows that he has been deceived not just today, but for many, many years. That he has never been the true apprentice. That he has never been the heir to the power of the Sith. He has been only a tool. His whole life—all his victories, all his struggles, all his heritage, all his principles and his sacrifices, everything he's done, everything he owns, everything he's been, all his dreams and grand vision for the future Empire and the Army of Sith—have been only a pathetic sham, because all of them, all of him, add up only to this. He has existed only for this. This. To be the victim of Anakin Skywalker's first cold-blooded murder. First but not, he knows, the last. [b]
Then the blades crossed at his throat uncross like scissors. Snip. And all of him becomes nothing at all. "