Private A Worthwhile Venture: No Mercy

[Loxa Visl]

T H C G, W H S K S T T N

A pop-up space station. What a fucking novelty. In all her years of traveling abroad, it wasn't until she'd sunken into the depths of her family's Trade Empire that things like this made it on her radar. Exclusivity without inclusivity. A roving merchant quarter for the dark and enigmatic. A wheeling playground for the underground, capable of appearing at a moment's notice for all one's illegal penchants and black market needs and then splitting the scene faster than a deadbeat drug dealer at the first sign of local Podunks.

The strangeness of it all arrived in crescendo of her private booth in the hi-brow, 5-star, gourmet restaurant sitting at height overlooking T H C G below. A fighter pit surrounded by various eating venues catering to all manner of tastes, both culinary and savage. Distasteful wasn't a long enough word to ascribe to the various emotions the entire setup evoked within her, but she'd make a solid effort to come up with something better over the evening.

Ellorei peered down at the spectacle below: an armored man in a pit with a bull rancor. Judging by the look of his weathered and thoroughly beaten and bloodied regalia, he was a Mandolorian, therefore the Rancor shouldn't have been much of a challenge.

"Will the lady Ardke be placing any bets this evening? We have quite the lineup prepared for tonight," her servant was smartly dressed and appropriately groomed. Good for him.

"No," she replied with disgust and then watched from the corner of her eye as the rancor performed an unexpected show of acrobatics in the air, snatching the Mando by his leg and summarily tossed him, as a much-ladened ragdoll might flail, right into the layered and reinforced duraglass wall separating her neighbor's private booth from the carnage below.

"Yes," she corrected herself and then slid into her seat to await her evening appointment with a certain pink-haired Mercenary.

 

[Mercy]

Loxa Visl

A new day a new opportunity for a job.

They were getting bigger too.

Not so long ago she was fighting in dive holes against bums and weak boys. Now she was meeting prospective crime lords in fancy arse space stations that had their own private gladiator pits. If that wasn't an upgrade then Mercy didn't know what was. Made her feel pride. Sure, it also meant she had a bigger target on her back, but that was worth it. She already had to dodge a few bounty hunters and managed to give them the slip.

The Sith Academy might still be hunting her beyond their grave. She was still doing better than them and without heir help.

"No, you wait here." One of Ardke's guards raised a hand right before Mercy was about to pass him by.

Mercy sighed and looked down at said guard.

The guard was not even looking at her.

"You know, I could-" No, Mercy, count to ten. One, two... three. Behind the shades she closed her eyes and exhaled. "Very well. Please do tell me when I can get on to this fething meeting."

A minute later she finally turned the corner and already saw Ellorei Ardke sitting. Just beyond her breath Mercy murmured a hot damn, before slicking her hair back a fraction more. "Miss Ardke," Once she finally got to her and nodded, before taking a seat. Didn't even ask if she could sit. Just... did... the thing.

The seat groaned underneath her as it had to take in the weight it definitely wasn't made for.

"Nice place ya got here. Does it come with its own cupholders an' chit?"

 

[Loxa Visl]

A thin, dark, arched brow greeted the fuchsia-haired bird, red eyes slipping up her remarkably stout frame to watch it buckle into a chair so casually that she nearly groaned for it. Ardke momentarily held her breath, feeling the strange compunction to correct the younger woman's horrible vocabulary before she realized she didn't actually care. This wasn't a Content Editor, this was muscle-for-hire and, she supposed, she aught to count herself lucky the beast could form full sentences and use simple titles like Miss.

"Yes," she sneered, "with legs."

She gestured, snap snap of a refined hand that had never seen a hard-days-work ever, and summoned her evening servant in.

"Ladies," he greeted them astutely and set a digital menu down on the table between them, "your drink choices?"

"Your finest vintage red," El did not even bother with the menu.

​

"My tab," another vague gesture to the Waiter as he waited on Mercy's decision. El fished a long-stem cigarette holder from her purse and lit up, lady-like. A haze of faint purple billowed from black painted lips and she tipped her head to once side while experiencing some deeply seated enthrallment with watching the viscera happening through the window. A bloodied limb went sailing through the air, splattering the glass along its journey, and clattered into the sidestands where you quickly learned there were two types of people on this station: those who dodged a flying limb, and those who dove for and snarled over it as a trophy.

A few moments of chaos resulted in a man holding up the Mando's pauldron in victory.

"Do you do ...this?" a third vague gesture to the scene below, "And is your name just a clever misnomer or something you actively practice?"

 

[Mercy]

Loxa Visl

Mercy shifted her attention to the waiter. A long look there. Up and down and up.

Not that pretty, but at least the drinks were free. If Ardke assumed she'd be paying for her own she'd once again be sorely disappointed. "This is some pretentious chit." Mercy finally declared after taking a long look at the menu.

"Jus' gimme ya finest ale, buddy." It wasn't clear if she was mocking Ellorei or trying to fit into the scenery.

There was an urge to lit up a cigarette as well. Only a bit of an urge though, but the ale would have to do. Too many stimuli took the edge off of her focus and that just wouldn't do right now. This one was slippery. The lady reminded her of her days at court. The alpha schutta archetype, all she was missing was a set of hanger-ons.

Drop-dead gorgeous though. Mercy would give her that.

"Hm?" A lazy glance to the arena. "Did, sure. Darker holes though, less people, more desperation, smaller prices. The corpses were dragged out back and left by a dumpster."

"I could take 'em both in mah sleep though." Mercy bragged lightly as she accepted her ale from the waiting waiter, who looked a bit green, and taking a sip. "Flashy as kark, but I get the temptation when ya being cheered on like that."

"Lil' bit of column A, bit o' B. I dun' kill unless I am asked to or forced to. Killing is easy. Getting someone to kneel down an' beg? Hard."

And the way Mercy smiled? Infinitely more attractive to her.

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Fetching," to the dumpster remark. Was it that these darker places of hers were so dark they couldn't manage to get the bodies in the dumpster but only in proximity of it? Or was it that the bodies were of such a number that there simply wasn't room and they tumbled off the top, landing in awkward positions thereabouts the dumpster?

Nevermind the curiosity that there were even dumpsters in the hypothetical. This suggested that there were still people whose dayjobs were to empty said dumpsters and that rather promptly ruined the entire aesthetic.

The Waiter stooped to display the red vintage bottle to the Lady and the Lady gave it a scrutinizing eye. Well if that was what they considered their best ... she gave him a discontented nod and watched him pour. At least his form was good. Her free hand picked up the glass, holding it with a noble's practiced delicacy, and gently swilled it beneath her nose.

Her red eyes landed on Mercy over the rim of her glass, expression unsmiling, "Clever misnomer, then. I am willing to place a healthy sum of money on your boastful words," Ardke tipped her cigarette stem in the direction of the ring, "are you willing to back them?"

 

[Mercy]

Loxa Visl

Mercy grunted as that sip her her throat and nodded.

"This is some good stuff, buddy." Over to the waiter as she took a deeper and longer gulp from the bottle. Then sighed, putting it down on the table and drying her mouth with a casual gesture of her hand. She was about to ask for their assortment of pretzels when Ardke spoke up again and drew her attention back in a very real way.

"Oh, yeah?" Interested tone and expression. Then again, for Ellorei 'a healthy sum of money' probably didn't mean much. Still though, it had been a long fething time since her last battle.

The lady with the prosthetic arm?

She still had her metallic fingers as a souvenir if Mercy recalled correctly. A light shrug followed. "Dun' ever make threats or boasts that yar ain't able to back up, ain't that the chit they say?" The more it was considered the more interested Mercy was becoming. She didn't really care about the opponent or the money, but...

That was a crowd she hadn't fought in front of before.

How would it feel to be cheered on by so many? To be loved and adored by at least a few thousands? She licked her lips.

"What's mah cut an' how fast do ya want it over with? Or I can drag it out, s'whatever ya want."

 

[Loxa Visl]

Skeptical was the name of the look Ardke fixed on the pink plum, the curl of her upper lip in aberrant distaste for something having to do with the words spoken or perhaps the sip of the wine she'd just taken falling loose in a dispassionate, "Uh huh." The wine glass found itself relegated to the table once more, decidedly not in any location that might be construed as meaning yes I would like to finish this glass.

"Forty percent," she bit at the plastene mouthpiece of her smoking wand, cheeks hollowing in a long draw to chase away the seedy aftertaste of bad enunciation and worse fermentation, "I'm a visual person and your list of skills is extensive," Ardke leaned toward Mercy as though she were seeking to share a secret, red eyes punctuating a note of intrigue, "show me."

 

[Mercy]

Loxa Visl

Forty was a bit light.

At least for Mercy who was used to both put a bet on herself and do the fighting. Then again, she never put a bet on herself in a place like this, because she was pretty sure she couldn't afford it.

So forty percent of a LOT was still a lot, no?

"Forty-five." Mercy murfled around the rim of her ale. Taking another deep inhale of the amber liquid like it was going to go bad, if she let go of it for even a second. Only once it was entirely polished-off did she sigh and lean back against the struggling chair. Tap on her stomach and a grateful yawn as she shrugged.

"I know mah worth, babe." Was that the ale speaking or the confidence blooming now that Mercy knew Ellorei wanted her. At least wanted her in the arena for now. When Ellorei leaned forward the woman opposite of her could only smirk. Herself leaning in a fraction, large elbows settling on a decidedly small table in comparison.

"Sure, Ardke." Murmured ever so sweetly. "I will show ya every last move I got. And maybe after that I will show you some more elsewhere."

A grin as she rose up. Far more smoothly than one such of her size would suggest. "Why dun' ya order me another ale, while I go make short work of the 'reigning champ'."

Lazy stretch that showed off every line of muscle and curve.

Oh, yeah, Mercy knew she was amazing... and really... that was the root issue, wasn't it?

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Forty-five."

"Fine," Ardke replied over a bored sigh and did not deign to argue the point because only Ardke knew how much she was actually betting. She was glad, at the very least, that someone like Mercy knew her own worth. Or thought she did, either way. Mind over matter, darling, that's what made the man. Or woman? Jury was out on Mercy.

"Sure Ardke."

That slummy drawl was really butchering her Noble Epican name. The d was silent. She settled on merely wrinkling her nose and decided that if and when Mercy managed to walk herself back out of that ring, she'd correct her on the issue. The come-on and drink suggestion were taken with humor as dry as Tattooine's ass.

"Mercy," El spoke as the mercenary made to take her leave of the private booth, "wallet or pride. I'm betting double on your opponent. Your cut's 100% on that."

 

[Mercy]

She paused in the middle of her walk when Loxa Visl said that.

See, if before Mercy would have entertained changing the way she pronounced Ellorei's last name? Now she'd double-down on it out of spice when the noble brought it up.

Didn't immediately look over her shoulder.

Contemplated for a brief moment. At least looked like she did. In truth it was no decision at all. Yeah, it would hurt her in the wallet, but Mercy wouldn't have thrown a fight in front of a small crowd. Crowd this size though? Inconceivable. She'd sooner bite her own finger off than be the loser in front of that many eyes.

"I dun' lose, Ardke. Not even for pay." Mercy murmured quietly. The first time there was something else in her voice than humor and a silent disregard of things. No, this was a dangerous edge. "Dun' offer me that again."

Not an idle threat too, because her hands had balled up in fists.

Nails biting into rough skin underneath.

It took Mercy quite some effort not to rip her head off. But even she knew that would be stupid. Ardke was her ticket towards bigger deals, larger money pays. Just annoyed the feth out of her that the gatekeepers were assholes. The irony of that thought was lost to the Queen of Assholes. Without saying another word she strode off to meet her opponent however.