First Reply Blood & Glory

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: fighter outfit

The roar of the crowd was deafening.

Valery stood in the center of the underground pit, muscles coiled, chest rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths. Her opponent groaned at her feet, body sprawled across the sweat-slick floor, gasping for air that refused to come. The match had lasted less than a minute. They had come in strong — quick footwork, a few decent strikes — but they were outmatched from the start. The moment Valery closed the distance, it was over.

Her fist had slammed into their ribs like a shockwave, sending them staggering. A second blow —a brutal knee to the gut — had stolen their breath. Then came the finisher: a spinning kick so sharp, so clean, that when the impact hit their temple, they were already falling before they knew they'd lost.

The referee barely had time to call it before Valery turned away.

She looked the part tonight.

Dressed for the pit, her usual Jedi attire was long abandoned in favor of something practical, raw, and designed for the fight. A cropped shirt clung to her frame, damp with sweat, exposing the taut muscle of her abs beneath the dim, flickering lights. Tight shorts allowed for unrestricted movement, emphasizing the power in her legs — legs that had just sent a man sprawling into unconsciousness.

Her hands wrapped in cloth, knuckles bruised but unshaken, she exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders before stepping out of the ring. The pit boss shot her a nod of approval as she snatched a towel off a nearby bench, slinging it around her neck. She didn't return the nod. She wasn't here to make friends.

She was here for one reason.

The underworld fights were a breeding ground for information. Criminals, mercenaries, spice runners, bounty hunters — all of them loose-lipped after a few drinks, cocky after a few wins. And somewhere in this pit, one of them had ties to the artifact she was tracking. So, she played the part. A nameless fighter, here for the credits, here for the thrill. Just another competitor in the pit, keeping to herself, waiting for the right conversation to start.

Grabbing a drink from the bar, she leaned against a rusted pillar, her towel draped lazily over her shoulder. Her fiery gaze swept the crowd, unreadable but always watching.

Waiting.

Someone would talk to her soon enough.

They always did.

First Reply
(preference to underworld characters/folks I'm not already writing with)​

 

[Torn Eskol]

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SIA SPECDIV
AGENT ESKOL
"HIGHWAY"

"Get in there, find out where they're going. Doesn't have to be anything big." She said over the communicator to Torn. Torn cocked his head, picking up the documents from the dead drop. Passes, this and that to get him past checkpoints and any cursory glances from local security forces. Nothing substantial. "In and out. Place some bets. Discretionary funds in there too. Buy a few drinks, don't stick out. You know the drill, Torn." It clicked off, without an opportunity to respond. He had a new codename, like he always did. Highway.

​

Highway was expecting a lot. Maybe a few pickpockets, maybe a few data collections, but not that. He couldn't risk exposing himself, much less the Foundation and the SIA operating here. But there was a Jedi- in fact, the Jedi here. Fighting. Arguably, nobody down here had recognized her so far. She was poised against the pillar, a drink in her hand and waiting for the thrill of the last fight to wash off.

And from across the bar, there was a pair of eyes, slightly blue-hued and glowing in the dimness, watching her. Staring. Highway was an uncomfortable person to be around- but with the force, he emanated death, he emanated deceit, lies. Everything about him was fake, a ruse, a lie. Nothing was true about him. In the force, it was as if he was wearing three masks and three faces. His mind was sharpened, hardened against intrusion by the force at all times. He was paranoid, he was lethal, he was calculating.

He tapped his biceps, his arms crossed.

Something wasn't right. His mission got a lot more complicated. Something felt off. He looked around, away from the Jedi. And in that split second, he moved. So if she glanced over at him, as soon as someone passed in front of him, he was gone. On the move. Towards her.

​

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: fighter outfit

Valery's fiery gaze never wavered as she scanned the crowd, though the moment he began moving, something shifted in the air. A subtle change. A pull she couldn't explain, but it was there — something about him.

She knew the type. She'd faced enough enemies in her time to recognize the presence of someone who wasn't just a random face in the crowd. A predator. But this man, the one who was making his way toward her, felt different. There was a calculated coldness to him, something she couldn't quite place but felt immediately. A whisper in the Force. The instinct that told her to watch, to wait.

As he drew nearer, her fingers brushed through her hair in a slow, deliberate motion, making sure to keep her posture relaxed and unassuming. The soft clink of her glass as she raised it to her lips was the only sound that came from her as she took a sip, keeping her attention fixed on him. She didn't turn her head or make any grand gestures. She let him approach, let him feel the tension build between them like a drawn bowstring.

Her eyes never left his, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She had a feeling that this wouldn't be like the usual encounter. There was something about him. Something... different.

"You've been staring," she said softly, her voice low but sharp, cutting through the noise of the room. She leaned back slightly against the pillar, her posture open, but her gaze never wavered.

Torn Eskol ​

 

[Torn Eskol]

​

SIA SPECDIV
AGENT ESKOL
"HIGHWAY"


He stared for a moment, not knowing what to say exactly. He could play a lot of cards. But there was something more sinister about him. Like he had never told the truth in his life. Highway toed the razor edge between traitor and patriot. He was a cold, murderous bastard. As he got closer, the shadowy whispers in the force grew ever more around him. He was almost Sith-like in his cruelty, the malice that lay in his heart.

"You're not one to wander this far down."

His eyes flicked behind glasses. Blue-light filtered glasses disguised as regular spectacles. Just a small detail to throw someone off for recollection. He didn't look anywhere else but her eyes. He didn't make it clear that he knew who she was- but at the moment, Highway knew more about her than she did about him. Unnerving wasn't even the right word to describe him at the moment. In the force, he was a host of shadows, shadowy ink on a tapestry of violence and murder. Cold-blooded murder. Not a warrior. A snake in the grass, glowing eyes in the dark.

​

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: fighter outfit

Valery didn't flinch. Didn't stiffen. Didn't shift. She simply held his gaze, meeting the cold, shadowed presence with the steady confidence of someone who had walked through the dark before and come out unscathed. She knew the type. The ones who lived in deception, who cloaked themselves in lies so tightly that even they might forget what was real.

But she saw him.

A slight smirk touched her lips, barely there, as she let a beat of silence settle between them before she answered.

"Yet here I am."

Her voice was smooth, effortless, carrying just the faintest edge of amusement. She let the words hang for a moment, the soft clink of ice shifting in her glass punctuating them as she took another slow sip.

Then, lowering the drink just enough to tilt her head, she added, "Good to know my presence flies under the radar, though. Makes my job a lot easier." She didn't clarify what that job was. Let him wonder. Let him fill in the blanks however he wanted.

Her posture remained casual, her weight still against the pillar, but beneath the ease, she was already analyzing, already watching for the small tells. He was dangerous — she had no doubt about that — but intimidation wasn't going to work. She didn't rattle so easily.

"What made you stop by?"

Torn Eskol ​

 

[Torn Eskol]

Valery Noble


​

SIA SPECDIV
AGENT ESKOL

Highway didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't even blink. In the force, the many faces moved, the many minds shifted.

The liar stared at her.

The patriot stared at her.

The traitor stared at her.

The greedy man stared at her.

The soldier.

The assassin.

The pariah.

The hero.

All at once, his many faces, laid bare in the force. But none of them were real. They were all real. He had mastered his emotions, his mind hardened to being read by the force. He cocked his head, looking in another direction, away from her. Towards something, someone else. He lowered his tone. Perhaps out of respect, or perhaps to catch her off guard.

"Grandmaster."

He said it with disdain. Maybe anger. Hard to place with him- but he turned his body, away from her, facing that same direction as he traversed with his eyes before.

"Don't get in my way tonight. You came down here. You don't belong down here with us."

He was staring at someone, something that wasn't her. She was a byproduct, an unfortunate, unforeseen risk that added layers upon layers of complications to his objective here. He kept it vague. She had no idea who he was. He could've been SIA, he could've been COMPNOR. He could've been a Blackblade Guard. He was evil, that much was clear. Nothing in the force had any trace of who he might've really been. Even in his own mind, he thought in different languages. Tonight, it was Bocce. Highway was paranoid to the point that he thought in a different language.

The Keshian finally looked back at her, his eyes glowing just like hers. She used her eyes to see, to look at her children, her husband, the galaxy. His eyes- they were for killing. Searching, narrowed, like a predator- always. He never relaxed. He never wasn't tense.

​

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: fighter outfit

Valery didn't react — not outwardly, at least. No flicker of surprise, no shift in expression, no tightening of her posture. She had faced men like him before. Men who wore their secrets like armor, who twisted their own identities so many times that even they had forgotten which face was truly theirs.

But there was something else about him. A kind of paranoia woven into his very being, laced into the fabric of his presence like a thousand shifting masks.

Interesting.

She let the word settle in her mind, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she exhaled softly, tilting her head just slightly, watching the way his gaze pulled away from her — fixed on something, someone else.

"Get in the way of what?" she asked, her voice as smooth and even as before, though there was a sharp undercurrent beneath it. Not a challenge. Not an accusation. Just an observation, a curiosity spoken aloud. Her fiery gaze didn't waver, though she knew he was testing her. Watching for a reaction.

"You came to me, after all." A slight smirk, subtle and knowing, flickered at the corner of her lips before fading. "And yet, you seem a little... distracted."

She let the words settle, watching, waiting. He was a puzzle, this one. A man stitched together by conflicting truths, his mind running so deep that even the Force struggled to pin him down.

But if he thought she would just walk away?

No.

Not yet.

Torn Eskol ​

 

[Torn Eskol]

​

SIA SPECDIV
AGENT ESKOL

Valery Noble​

"Because the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order being here, means bad things for me."

He reached into his pocket, holding a small device. Square, with several buttons on it and a folded antenna which he folded outwards, extending only so far. "This is not your place, Jedi. This isn't your temple. You shouldn't have come down here."

He pressed the button, but not before shutting his eyes. And the lights in the place- flared outwards, then were overloaded, darkening the room. A blinding flash that he was prepared for. An electrical charge on the nearby power junction placed prior to his arrival. He opened his eyes, meeting hers, knowing he only had a few precious moments of uninterrupted opportunity.

He crossed the crowd, a punch knife falling into his hand. There was a well-dressed Chiss in a suit, with an Alliance naval pin on his collar. He had spilled his drink, leaning over to try and grasp it when the lights went out. Highway crossed the crowd, his eyes never once leaving his target. His hand flicked, first stabbing the Chiss in the chest. No screaming. He breathed out sharply, and Highway leaned into his ear, saying something- just a single word.

"Traitor."

He was one of many, and he fell over, coughing briefly, falling to his knees, bleeding through his suit. Highway reached down, grabbing his chin and nose, pinching the latter- and twisting violently the former. Not a scream, not a sound. In the near pitch blackness, he stood tall over his target, and looked up, his slightly glowing eyes meeting Valery's. Movement in the crowd blended his movements-

He was headed towards the stairs, further into the fighting pits. Not escaping, moving faster, further, deeper.