Public Sting Like a Bee

[Tansu Treicolt]

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Tansu didn't feel good about this at all. Dante seemed to have squared away his fate, but it felt all wrong. Sides of fences be damned. She'd already set fire to her neighbour's grass, she had to find a way to douse it!

There wasn't enough time to make it to the crowds before the announcement and pyrotechnics started, so she stared at the curtain and imagined the mood shifting outside. His bag sat on the bench, and she looked waywardly at it, lingered, then decided against snooping further.

She exited the tunnel and sought out her sister — and was dazzled by a droid in the audience receiving the same level of treatment as other patrons! That would never happen on Concord Dawn. Coruscant really was the pinnacle of progression! For half a step, she considered sitting with it.. but the need to find her other half was greater than her curiosity.

It didn't take long to find Talin. She was at the books.

"How we lookin?" Tansu asked, sliding up to peer at her sister's handiwork. She got so close that Talin's cheek pushed back the rim of Tansu's hat. She scrutinized the paper a bit longer before she leaned back and grinned lopsidedly.

She'd wanted to tell Talin all about what she'd seen with Dante's gloves, and that their suspicions had been true, but something more marvellous evidenced.

"What's got you all blushy?" Her elbow knocked playfully against her sister's side. "Yer pinker than a fresh birthed calf."

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Dante Iblis / Talin Treicolt / Morrow / Gansorm Qassel / Tarre Priest / @I’dadr Gorgon
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[Morrow]

Morrow's figure appeared between the pair of curtains obscuring the tunnel. Pyrotechnics hissed as he strode down the aisle, conjuring pillars of smoke that cascaded over themselves until they formed a loose haze. Roaring and cheering quieted to a murmur as the man the announcer dubbed 'The Cleaner' approached the ring. Some of the crowd even jeered, fanatic in their support of Lazy Iblis. Morrow was hardly bothered, he hadn't come here for adoration or recognition. This endeavor began and will end with credits.

By the time he entered the ring, the jeers and murmurs had become excited simmering. Anticipation was thick on the air like Coruscantine smog, and that strange, unknowable gift Morrow possessed wouldn't let him ignore it. Chewing the side of his tongue, he took his time adjusting his shockmitts to the dismay of the official in the throes of his match-start address to both fighters. Knuckles tapped together, emanating an arc of electricity that spanned across both hands. Finally, he looked up to his opponent just in time for the sanctioned glove touch. Stolid, his eyes gave Iblis a once-over before he pivoted to move toward his corner at the official's direction.

A nearby presence brushed at Morrow's volition. In the moment, he was unsure of how he knew where Talin was, nevertheless, he could feel it. Looking ringside to see Talin, face devoid of the surprise that discovering a twin would normally evoke. Though it immediately piqued his interest, his azure gaze didn't linger, straying just a moment before the bell rang to lock eyes with Lazy Iblis across from him.

"Fight!" came the cry of the official with a large wave of his arms

Morrow approached, leaving no time for methodical posturing. He threw two strikes immediately, one with each hand. Heeding the pull of his seemigly all-knowing gift, he reflexively weaved down and to his right following his assault and disengaged just out of reach.

He almost looked like he knew what he was doing.

Dante Iblis | Talin Treicolt | Tansu Treicolt | Tarre Priest | I'dadr Gargon​

 

[Talin Treicolt]

“If Dante keeps his word, we’re good…” Talin trailed off, penciling numbers in a margin. “If not… we’ll cover the house and feast on Huttaburger for a whole… three days.”

Dread had overtaken her before the next question even came, and with it, roses transformed to beets. Misery danced across her face as her finger settled on one side of the ring. Finding Morrow looking back, she slammed her face into the table, seeking respite from his gaze. She would allow her sister to come to her own conclusions about that.

“Ring girls didn’t show. We get to baby them and strut around.”

Someone might of killed her best friend with the tone Talin wore. Peeking up from behind blonde locks, she turned to find a cocktail waitress on a delivery behind her. Liquor sloshed with an unceremonious robbery.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, toots. S’our place tonight. Go get them another.”

Liquid courage gave her the guts to turn back to the ring. With that realization, Talin drained the glass, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Stakes were too high to play chicken.

“Is he goin’ to keep his word?”

Tansu Treicolt // open

 

[Dante Iblis]

'The Cleaner', strange name. But then the scrawny kid, somehow looking even younger than Dante, had a strange look to him.

Dante gave his opponent a once-over as he approached the center of the ring. They were nearly the same height, though Dante stood a little shorter. Similar build, too. Had he grown up on a farm?

Dante and the Cleaner locked shock gloves briefly, and for the first time they locked eyes. He couldn't quite make out what was playing out behind that blue gaze. With other fighters it was usually simple to tell. They were either confident they were about to win, nervous about being beaten, or focused on the moment to moment.

But everything about the kid was throwing him off. It wasn't focus in his eyes, nor was it confidence or anxiety. There was an absence of emotion there, some cold intelligence. And his movements during the pre-fight ceremonials. They had been measured, he clearly had experience fighting, but he'd missed the various ring timings by narrow margins. Not obvious to audience members, no doubt, but from up close it had been easier to spot.

On his way back to the corner, Dante shook his limbs loose in to get rid of the tension that had been building in his muscles. Between the organizer trying to get under his skin and the strangeness this kid exuded, he hadn't had the time to get into the right headspace.

"Fight!" The voice of the announcer almost surprised Dante. He'd have to improvise, then.

He brought his hands up and approached the center with deliberate steps.

Morrow didn't want a slow opener, however. He closed the distance quick, and immediately threw two strikes in quick succession, right then left. Dante stopped in his tracks and slid one foot back, getting his body out of reach of the first strike, then leaned out of the way of the second.

It was a basic combination, delivered to catch a fighter off guard.

Dante replied with a strike with his left, aimed for his opponent's left shoulder.

It didn't connect.

Dante frowned, how had ... ? He considered a low follow up hook with his right. Striking with his bad hand would be risky, but with the angle between them, his opponent might not see the fist coming in time to react from behind Dante's torso.

The decision to strike was made for him when his opponent disengaged beyond arm's length following exchange. Black locks fell on either side of his face, and beneath them, piercing blue eyes read his opponent's, Dante's, movements.

Dante remained where he stood, recovering to a neutral guard. A moment of pause suited him fine.

The kid had dodged his follow up too easily. He may have been sluggish, even if it didn't quite feel like it. With adrenaline steadily filling the system, it could be difficult to tell.

Dante glanced at his opponent's legs. He stood steady, but his stance lacked refinement. The balance was good, with strong leverage to burst into a strike with adequate power behind it, but a persistent offense might just expose the lack of precision and net Dante an advantage.

Instead of advancing to test his hypothesis, Dante leaned back into his stance. Netting himself advantages wasn't his objective, however.

He extended his hand, and gave 'The Cleaner' a wordless beckon to come forward.

Tarre Priest Gansorm Qassel I'dadr Gargon Talin Treicolt Tansu Treicolt

 

[Tarre Priest]

All I could do was just smile beneath the helm of beskar, and shake my head as he confirmed that what we were doing here, was just for our own pleasure. of course. Even with the notion of almost natural creatures, Fighting, fleeing, Feeding, or fracking. it was the natural order of all life. Anything anyone wanted was for those four reasons. So coming here, was just another one of those things. Fighting. Though some might use this as a way to feed themselves, or in the more likely case, fracking. You fought in the ring? Make a name for yourself? Not that difficult to call a mate your own. Yet, Dante was different about this. His fights were more... methodical. He did it for a reason I couldn't figure out. Wasn't a man to have arm candy draped over him. Nor did he flaunt wealth. Showing he was feeding himself. So he was fighting for something, or fleeing and happened to get stuck here.

Either way, my attention was pulled away from my vod as the announcers called their names. Once they were headed to the ring, I just watched as they prepared themselves for the fight. Turning to him, I voiced my mind.

"Honestly, I want to see Dante's form and footwork. He shows a hell of a lot of talent at the game. The new guy? Not sure. Would I like Dante to win? Sure. I get to see more of his fights."

However, thats when I got a clean look of the new guys face. "The Cleaner" as he was announced. It was interesting. Familiar. A furrowed brow hidden under the helm for the moment, I just stayed. Watching. Not even paying attention to Dante anymore. Just... trying to figure out where I had see this new guys face before.

Dante Iblis I'dadr Gargon Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Gansorm Qassel Morrow

 

[Morrow]

Transformers were revved up momentarily beneath a tightening grip. Bolts of electricity spread out wildly from Morrow's closed fists. In the throes of the electrical glow, shockmitts returned to their defensive position and flanked his face like a pair of steel curtains. Strafing around the periphery of the canvas in opposition to Dante, lax footwork subtly betrayed the illusion of in-ring experience. Despite each tell of ignorance, Morrow obliged his opponents beckoning without hesitation. Confidence sent mixed signals, muddling any attempt to read him.

Stance tightening, Morrow swayed left and right, stutter-stepping as he closed the distance. It was a serviceable mimicry of the technique he'd observed the late Salvor King applying on holovision replays. Every set of eyes on him with an understanding of the shockboxing art would easily spot the sloppy particulars laced within. The crowd might have cried amateur if it weren't for the absurd speed and otherworldly precision with which he unleashed his offense. Morrow thought it was simply his superior talents, but the Dark Side amplifying his volition. Dark energies seeped into every neuron and tendon unbeknownst to him.

A jab thrust forward with an adjusted speed that sought to disrupt the timing Dante would have learned on the first barrage. A hook followed with his right hand, carried by deceiving power that asserted him as a dextral fighter. At that moment, his ability to see became applicable again. Heeding it, Morrow's head moved laterally with the impact of a coming blow, seeking to lessen the impact. Then a lean came, dodging from the perceived trajectory of whatever the next retaliation was.

A sinistral parting shot came as his weight shifted. An uppercut to the sternum with a force that would oust his left-handedness should it connect. Another attempt to disengage followed, in keeping with the hit-and-run tactics he'd committed himself to at the beginning of the bout. Mitigation of Dante's offense at the price of having only small opportunities to attack, Morrow knew, was his only key to success.

Dante Iblis | Talin Treicolt | Tansu Treicolt | Tarre Priest | I'dadr Gargon | Gansorm Qassel​

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

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Seventeen years of having the same face, and knowing the pulled lines and twists of every expression, made Talin's blush self-explanatory. The point and the eye contact sent it over the edge. Tansu pitched out a noise of girlish glee and clutched her sister's arms.

All that came crashing down with the next words that slipped out of her Twin.

"Sorry, come-again?"

Tansu blink-blinked through the slow-dawning realization while Talin sloshed back something too strong.

"Are you serious? Y'aint serious." Her voice dipped. "Y'know on some planets that'd be i l l e g a l ." But not Coruscant's underworld.

She gasped at Talin's unchanged expression.

"You ARE serious! I hate it. I hate it." She twisted in her chair and signalled at the waitress for three more of whatever her sister had just downed. This seemed a good as time as any to turn to liquor; couldn't be worse than moonshine in the barn passed on from their brothers.

The same way Tansu recognized something hidden in her sister's face, Talin could likely call out Tansu's intentionally averted gaze at the question.

"Uhh.." she started, stupidly, and looked out at the ring. Dante was dodging and striking, fully in-the-moment, and his opponent looked equally relentless. "I think so. He did say he gave his word and seemed hard-pressed about goin' back on it." Her elbows rest on the table, and her hands held her head up. "Somethin's wrong with his manager and him. I read his gloves, Lin. It's like his soul is part of the fight."

"But!" her hands moved to slap against the table, just as the waitress arrived with the three glasses. "ShouldbeFINNNEEE." She deposited them as quickly as possible and left. Tansu eyed the glass, squinted at her sister over the rim, and tossed it back.

It set her throat on fire, and the teen into an unglamorous coughing fit. Between gags, she sputtered out a string of condemnations and light praise for how her sister had handled it.

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Talin Treicolt | OPEN
Dante Iblis | Morrow | Tarre Priest | I'dadr Gargon | Gansorm Qassel
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[Dante Iblis]

The cleaner answered Dante's without delay. His approach already spoke volumes. There was plenty speed in it, and an uncanny precision, but it lacked coordination and refinement. Following hundreds of drills, a shockboxer's techniques flowed with a grace that only came from automatic muscle-memory. This kid came close, but the timings all still registered off their mark.

Dante stepped sideways to avoid the initial jab. A slight jolt of electricity jumped to his shoulder where the shockglove of his opponent barely missed its mark. Jabs were rarely thrown alone. Dante slid his foot back and shifted his weight, preparing for the follow-up.

It came in the form of a right hook, which Dante answered with another quick step, this time backwards and out of range. From there, he used his back leg as a spring to get a quick, non-commital jab of his own into the sequence just to break the pace. He didn't feel it connect. Instinctively, he drew back and prepared for another counter from the kid, judging a follow up too risky.

In the blur of motion he thought he could see the kid lean slightly too far, almost as though he'd been expecting more, but didn't have time to confirm his observation as a crackling blur came up from his right. The kid's left hook came from nowhere as a parting gift. Dante leaned far to get out of its way, more on reflex than training. The shockglove whirred past Dante's side, leaving burning air in its trail.

For a moment Dante feared he'd made a critical error in leaving himself exposed by leaning instead of stepping, but the kid was disengaging. That absolved his intuition's guess that their current sequence had been coming to an end, and he recovered to a neutral stance.

The kid's offense was deceptively effective. He didn't have the technique or the coordination, but he had speed and enough wit to work cunning into his fists. An untrained novice with more unrefined power than skill, it almost reminded Dante of himself in his younger years.

Dante moved after the kid, attempting to purchase ground by matching each step the kid took backward with one forward. After just two or three steps, he leapt forward for a quick jab, then made space for the kid to retreat again, only to launch another quick jab a few steps later.

Morrow Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Tarre Priest I'dadr Gargon

 

[Morrow]

Morrow showed a mouth guard behind the parting of curling lips. He would have bet good cred on that last shot connecting. Instead, he now found himself on the back foot, retreating from Lazy's unfettered approach. The distance between them remained stagnant no matter how many retreating skips Morrow took backward. Thumps became palpable against the inside of his chest, the stress of combat finally creeping its way into his psyche. It was enough to muddle his gift, hardly managing to block an incoming jab with a forearm raised to curtain his features. Excess energy zapped the side of his head, burning his eyes and ears while orchestrating an awful ring in his ears.

As the gap grew slightly, urgency condensed dark focus back into Morrow's volition. It was just in time for his opponent's next return. Just in time, he weaved and snuck in a large step to finally break from the proverbial red zone.

A few breaths would have tempered his next move, but the stinging across his entire cranium cultivated agitation. Unbeknownst to the young sensitive, anger was the premiere fuel for that shapeless superiority he'd been leaning on his entire life. Morrow took a step to the left, dipped, stuttered a step to the right, and dipped down again. His right hand rose as if to throw a haymaker, but he spun on the approaching step with a speed that spectators might have thought neared inhuman. Left arm outstretched, the back of his fist rounded it's owners axis and whipped toward's Lazy's temple.

A bell rang just in time for the anticipated connection.

Dante Iblis | Talin Treicolt | Tansu Treicolt | Tarre Priest | I'dadr Gargon | Gansorm Qassel​