Private First Rule Of Fight Club

[Alina Tremiru]

Alina spit out some blood that had pooled in her mouth into the sink she was standing in front of. She was in the 'locker room' of an underground fight club, resting up after another one of her fights. This one was a Gamorrean thug who hit far harder than she expected, but she still took him down. All it took was a couple well placed punches to his chin. And Alina got there, eventually. She had no real style when it came to fighting, but she was a brawler for sure. The young Sith wiped off her lips of any of the remanding blood.

She'd been doing this for a while now. With her family she was never given the chance to truly learn how to fight. They expected her just to die off and leave her brother the sole heir. So Alina took it on herself to sneak away and go to these sorts of events. It didn't teach her any stylized fighting, but it taught her enough to fight and survive. A simple grey sweater covered most of her features with it's hood. No sign of her blonde hair, covering most of her face when it was pulled down. Sorta became her signature. She never let her hood fall in a match to keep from being caught.

Thus far, at least that was undefeated even if she was.

The young woman pushed away from the sink to start heading out. That was the last fight she could do for the night without drawing any suspicion. Alina pulled up her hood and made sure it stayed on low enough so no one would recognize her. Not that she really had to worry about that. No one would recognize a lowly acolyte.

Right?

Cara Dorniarn

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Another night, another fight, and Cara was exhausted. Had she been in the ring? Not quite. Her latest brawls weren't physically demanding but mentally redundant, as wrestling the shuttlefuls of paperwork that came with her new position proved to put a damper on Cara's more...personal ambitions. She was still an unrecognized figure, not many journalists finding the title "Pillar of Production" as engaging as say war or advancement. When the New Kaas City Gazette's blurb about the newly assigned pillar sat next to a blank photo (the journalist either couldn't find one or, in truth, didn't care to search) she was relieved. But the last few months of paper-pushing had finally frayed a nerve, and tonight she had put everything on hold in order to enjoy watching some fist-flying and teeth-shattering competition.

Average on all accounts, no one would suspect such a nondescript warehouse was host to a buzzing environment within. Hand-selected vendors were allowed to push their entirely "legal" items, cliques of fighters and trainers dotted corners and makeshift aid stations, and spectators sat in bleachers surrounding the heart of it all: an octagon ring lit from above and surrounded by humming black wire fencing. One scrutinized scan was all Cara gave to those around her, the credit chip she dropped on the vendor's table exchanged for a bag of shelled seeds. She weaved through the crowds without much effort, burying her metal fingers into the bag and breaking open shells indiscriminately. The perfect seat to view the octagon was scoped out, and Cara took the steps two at a time to reach it before a Dug swiped the spot. Or he thought he had, the sole of Cara's boot the last thing he tasted as she kicked him off the bleachers. She nestled herself on the spot, not even looking back as she heard a few pained curses thrown her way.

There were a few good fights that evening, though the Zabrak who lost his last three horns was a bit bloodier than need be. The referee threw a glance her way as she shook her head disapprovingly, the Zabrak's opponent then given a two night suspension for foul play. In the ring fights were brutal, they had to be, but there was sophistication to brutality that Cara prized in better ring fighting. Every round was a lesson learned, a class in session, a small victory in becoming better than the rest. Of course, that didn't mean she didn't enjoy watching an absolute thrashing now and then.

It was the last fight of the night, and most spectators and vendors had left to start their daily lives. When a Gamorrean lowlife and apparent humanoid entered the ring Cara turned her attention to the octagon, leaving the stacked shells on the sleeping Talz beside her to be his waking problem. A thought clicked in Cara's mind upon seeing the humanoid's gray sweater. There'd been chatter about an unknown taking on the late fights, steadily pushing forward in making a name for their no-name self. Cara had yet to see them fight and leaned forward, chin propped on her hand as she watched. The Gamorrean was a heavy-hitter, relying on brute strength and weight to be an intimidating presence. The green swine had no style however, but neither did his opponent. Yet there was a spark of something more in the young female. She hit hard and with a single purpose-- she needed nothing more at the moment.

"A determined thing, has quite a drive." Cara remarked to the Talz who gave a kazoo-toned snore in response. "...did you see that left? The footing there. Don't see that everyday, unless of course you're at--" She paused. Without warning she shot from her seat and hopped over the Talz, startling the fuzzy dreamer and causing him to fall backward off the bleacher. With a thud Cara landed on the pavement from her leap above, straightening her jacket as she assumed a composed stride. The fight had ended, the female combatant having put the Gamorrean on the mat, but having left to presumably clean up the marks she'd been given. Wouldn't do to arrive at class with a blood smear on your face.

Cara came close to crashing into the acolyte as she stepped into the makeshift locker room. She backed a step, looked up, then shot a minorly accusing finger close to Alina's chin. "--the academy." She returned her hand to her coat pocket and straightened her posture, summoning as much of an austere presence as possible. Unfortunately Cara was tired, her attempt quite unsuccessful. Curse tall people.

"You're not in trouble, however..." Cara furrowed her brow, "Your lip is still bleeding. Gamorreans are filth incarnate. Let's get that clean, then I have some questions for you."

 

[Alina Tremiru]

A cold sweat formed on the back of Alina's next as she came face to face with Cara Dorniarn . Bumping into someone was bad news in these parts. Especially if they were going into the locker room. Probably another fighter and- Oh no. The acolyte's eyes widened as she was stared down. Sure, Cara might be shorter. But Alina recognized her.

She might as well of been a giant as fear gripped the young woman's heart. Not in trouble? Kark that. She was definitely in trouble. Alina nodded dumbly as Cara mentioned having questions for her. "R.. Right. I guess I missed a spot." Yeah because that's what she should say. Slowly she backed into the room, turning in a hopes she might conceal the terror in her gaze before the older woman picked up on it. "What kind of questions..?"

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Alina Tremiru

"First of all," Cara stepped toward a metal cabinet, tapping the cabinet lock with a careless flick of her finger to force it to open. But as she pulled the washcloth from the shelf she cast a glance to the woman, sensing her trepidation. She furrowed her brow then went to the sink, acting busy as she turned the faucet on and wet the cloth.

"First of all," she started over, "good job. You put that pig on the mat--albeit, not as fast as you could have." Couldn't brag too much, not at first. The water stopped with a squeak of the faucet handle and Cara wrung out the cloth with seemingly no care to her suit's sleeves. Stepping closer--but not too close--she extended the washcloth to the acolyte then stepped away and stuffed her hands in her pockets as she gave the young one space.

"Why are you here? To fight is obvious. But it's not quite the standard I see on an academy syllabus..."

 

[Alina Tremiru]

First of all. It filled her with dread when Cara Dorniarn stopped midway through her sentence. She half expected to slugged in the face or brought down with the Force or literally any sort of punishment. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd be punished, but it felt like the sort of scenario she would be. That, and her mother certainly would have if she'd ever found out. Alina closed her eyes and tensed once the sentence was renewed, preparing for the worst. Only to get a compliment.

Sure, it wasn't anything to brag about, but it still filled her with a sense of confusion and a hint of pride. The young woman took the cloth as it was offered and started to really clean the scrapes and bruises. At this point it made more sense to do that than question why she hadn't been punished. Likely would only get her in more trouble. So would lying, so she went for the truth.

"I didn't go to the academy until recently. Before I did, this was how I learned to fight. Not the best, but it's all I have. Or, had."

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Alina Tremiru

Cara kept her attention on Alina while claiming one of the worn benches in the room. It hobbled forward with the hidden weight of her cybernetics but she seemed to not notice, calmly crossing both legs while drawing her hands from the trouser pockets to rest atop her knee. Fingertips gave an almost inaudible clink as she drummed them across the top of her other hand. Her eyes kept a close watch on the woman's body language, and for certain she was telling Cara the truth. Cara nodded, a wry chuckle in her throat as she replied.

"You are still expecting repercussions." She shook her head, tilting it forward as she continued to speak. "I was younger than you when I started lessons in martial arts, and at first I hated it. Hid from them, sudden bouts of sickness, anything," Cara rolled her eyes, embarrassed by her younger self's foolishness, "Compare that with you, now, throwing yourself in the ring for any scrap of experience. Why would I punish you for seeking to better yourself? More over, who is it you are really hiding from?"

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Alina slowly lowered the towel as she listened to Cara Dorniarn explain that she likely shouldn't be punished. In her mind, it didn't make any sense. A Sith lowering themselves to fight as a common street thug in the desperate attempt to learn how to fight. But this woman made it seem like she should be commended and rewarded for her initiative. She tentatively took a seat beside the woman, nodding a little.

"I guess that makes sense." Alina fell silent at the question though. That wasn't something she wanted to have to admit out loud. It'd likely infuriate her mother. "Someone with power over me."

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Alina Tremiru

"Everyone has that pesky dagger hanging over their head or prodding their side, though I understand the hesitancy to admit such." Cara drummed her fingers once more, a contemplative look on her face as she weighed several options of what next to say.

"Far be it of me to thrust that dagger closer, so perhaps later we dull it to nothing. In the meantime you," she nodded toward Alina for emphasis, "hold quite a bit of promise. I won't tell you to stop fighting in these 'cozy' establishments, they're good for a quick brawl. I will say you could learn more outside of here or even the academy for that matter, if you don't mind tailoring lessons around my schedule. Up to you of course." The bench groaned as Cara stood, the engineer dusting off her trousers while waiting for an answer.