Public Sting Like a Bee

[Talin Treicolt]

23:00 || Outlander Club​

Wandering neon orbs were the source of light aside from the empty ring. The atmosphere oozed anticipation. Talin was so wrong against the colorful crowd she almost didn’t look right. Climbing up onto the ropes, one hand held a mic, whilst the other pinned down the top of her hat. The number of faces which filled the Outlander Club had exceeded their wildest expectation.

“Well, howdy, folks of the lower levels!” She offered a beaming flash of teeth to their guest. “Thank you for joinin’ us in witnessin’ the fight of the - well, I won’t claim millennia - but surely the week!”

A moment's pause allowed for jeering.

“Books are open for each fight five minutes till - please find one of our bookies in the crowd should you be interested in puttin’ those hard earned credits to use. Don’t forget to tip your bartenders, drink yer drinks while they’re cold, and please, leave the fightin’ to the professionals. We have one hour ‘till the main event - where Lazy Ilbis faces his mystery challenger! Lines standing at +300 Ilbis, -400 challenger, +200 draw. Now, let's get ready to RUMBLLLLEEE!”

With that, she stepped back down, boots clacking. Odds were stacking up against the pair of twins and they had work to do. Nero Drake had made it clear he planned to sue for damages, but something told Talin the undercity didn’t settle in courts. They still owed Dax for all of his kindness. The bounty payout hadn’t nearly been enough to even get her blaster out of pawn. The pair were going to end up in a Nal Hutta gulag, or worse, if they didn’t figure something out. It was time for a little redneck ingenuity.

The dirty bar on level 1313 was a far cry from the honkey tonks back home - maybe that was why this thing had come together so easy. The owner demanded a flat twenty percent, but they didn’t have to wrestle concerns about protectors or illegal substances. Talin was riding a high from an all day setup. She practically galloped back to the locker rooms where their star was waiting. Sister in tow, she pushed open the door without knocking.

“Hey, Dante, thanks for agreein’ to this on such short notice. Man, your manager was sure was a nice guy! Err, we have a…. Proposition, though.”

Open challenger for Dante Iblis in a few rounds. Feel free for small spars before.

 

[Dante Iblis]

Dante stared at scratched, grey-blue locker doors, hunched over on the single bench.

"Well, would'ja look at that. Little Dante's made it to Coruscant," Seluseus sneered. The oversized Barabel dropped his hand on Dante's shoulder. "It told'ja you'd make it big if you stuck it out with me."

Dante glanced at the Barabel's hand. The dried scales had lost their shine, and the leathery skin looked more sickly by the day.

He hummed his agreement and gave a half-hearted, brief nod. He'd made it to Coruscant. That legendary arena where he'd seen Thom Space, Jido Scutteler, and the legendary Rhido Crohmin decimate their opponents through fate-defying feats of strength and endurance. Fighting in an arena on Coruscant practically guaranteed that a shockboxer's career now had solid foundation from which they could climb greater and greater heights. By all accounts, shockboxers who managed to get an official fight on Coruscant had it made.

But Dante somehow struggled to embrace that success for everything it was.

The Barabel's hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Get ready, kid, you're going on the big stage tonight so you better put on a good show for the audience. Don't embarass me like you did on Kaas. This time it'll be more than your cut on the line," he croaked a snickering laugh, and began to make his way towards the door.

However, his exit route burst open as the enthusiasm of the event's organizer, and she along with it, barreled into the room. She was gunning for Dante, with her exact duplicate in tow, like she saw a pile of credits sitting on that bench in his stead.

“Hey, Dante, thanks for agreein’ to this on such short notice. Man, your manager was sure was a nice guy! Err, we have a…. Proposition, though.”

Dante's face twisted, and he raised his hand to decline.

"I'm sorry, I don't mess with-", but the croaking-dulcet voice of his Manager interposed itself to cut his protests short.

"A pro-per-sition!" Seluseus spoke, stepping inbetween Dante and the organisers. "Why, my partner would surely love to hear that business opportunity of yours."

Dante sighed. The fat lizard had a keen sense for credits, and he wouldn't let a chance to cash in slip through his grubby fingers.

Talin Treicolt

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

They'd rehearsed this enough for the youngest Treicolt to recognize her cue. Even if she didn't recognize anything else in the room — like power dynamics.

Tansu stepped forward and sided with her sister.

"Okay, well, y'see," A list of what-not-to-says scrolled behind her eyes and did their best not to make it out her mouth: "Y'all're at the apex of the galaxy here, the pinnacle of all fighting arenas, and where the real focus is." Her arms spread wide for emphasis. The sentiment was half-true, but she continued because the girls had rehearsed it enough to convince themselves.

"This fight, it's not just another bout—it's the fight that could define your legacy." Palms out, she spanned them from in front of her face out to her shoulders, helping them imagine 'Lazy Iblis' written in the invisible space between her hands. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed them at the pair of underworlders. "But here's the real twist: we can make sure it defines our fortunes too."

Her eyes darted between Dante and his manager, transmitting sincerity and a hint of urgency. The Barbell seemed to be listening intently, so she focused on him. She and Talin really needed the credits.

"Imagine this: You go down in the final round—dramatic, memorable, the crowd goes wild. Shocked. Stunned. Unsuspecting! You made it all this way to Coruscant, this was your night, this was your victory to seal, and.." she gestured a faux poof of smoke. "The crowd walks away murmuring, whispering, wanting more, and weee walk away with enough credits to buy out that empty Senate building and make apartments!" She was talking quicker now, growing more convinced in the pitch. More hopeful. More desperate.

"You'll still be a legend Mister Lazy; they love a hero's comeback story. And after the dust settles, you rise again, bigger than ever. It ain't over until you say it's over."

She reached into her back pocket and produced a data pad, tapped it, brought up a secure contract filled with figures that sparkled like the city lights outside.

"This is our window, right here, right now. All legal, all clean, under the table where it counts. You gotta realize Dante, I mean Lazy, I mean, Mister Iblis, Lazy Iblis—" the manager gestured to move on, get past the name-stumblin' and to the point.

It was a tall order, askin' a fighter not to give it their all.

"—This is Coruscant. And tonight's not just a fight; it's the heist of a lifetime, without firing a single shot. Capture an entire crowd's attention, and steal their hearts." And their wallets.

The cowgirls' offer hung in the air, as potent and charged as the electric skyline of Coruscant itself.

"Whadd'ya say?"

____________________________________________________________
Dante Iblis | Talin Treicolt | @CHALLENGER????
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Morrow]

"Okay, what's your record?"

"Zero, Zero."

"What? How many sanctioned fights have you had?"

"None."

The Cornerman was dumbfounded. "You've never gotten in the ring, and you wanna fight Lazy?"

"Correct."

"How much do you even know about the sport?"

"Enough."

Shaking his head, the Cornerman clicked his tongue. "You'll get killed in there," he declared matter-of-factly. Chimes emitted from his datapad at the behest of his typing fingers. "There's no way I can approve this."

"All the more reason to bet against me," Morrow concluded over the previous assertion.

A raised brow shot Morrow a suspicious look. "Are you trying to bribe me, kid?"

Morrow's gaze narrowed. A few seconds of silence festered, eye contact unbroken. "I need credits."

Stammering, the cornerman tried to formulate a refusal.

"Don't pretend to be above a little palm-greasing. We're so deep in this rock that you people shit corruption."

"You got any idea who you're talking to, kid?"

"A fool or soon-to-be parvenu. He hasn't decided yet."

Morrow's proposal hung waiting in the air between them. Consideration was visible on the cornerman's face, though something in his eyes indicated suspicion. It wafted over Morrow's extranormal senses like a bad stench. A small grin fissured across his face, catching the cornerman off-guard.

"Or you could bet in my favor if you have doubts."

Visibly creeped out, the cornerman shook his head and tapped on his datapad again. From his datapad, the same series of chimes from moments ago played, this time in reverse. Reaching into a nearby equipment locker, the cornerman produced a pair of metallic gauntlets. "Your shockmitts," he offered.

Smug expression beaming, Morrow took the shockmitts and exited the coaching office. Immediately, he pivoted toward the betting counter. A thud emanated as Morrow discarded his shockmits onto them. Unimpressed, the Duros on the other side didn't look up from his terminal. Morrow stared for a moment before reaching down into his pockets, conjuring two handfuls of credits, and sending them clattering onto the counter. The sound was enough to finally draw the Duros from his terminal.

"All of this on Morrow."

"Morrow?" The Duros tapped at his terminal, his alien face puckering. "Says here you're Morrow."

"I am."

"Can't bet on yourself."

"Why not?"

"It's illegal."

"So is reeking of spice in a public establishment but it hasn't stopped you."

"Hah," the Duros scoffed. "Ain't gonna work on me, kid."

"Worked fine on your boss."

The Duros's gaze once against came up from the terminal, this time with urgency. It was met with a self-satisfied shrug from the boy in front of him. Begrudgingly, the alien began to scoop the credits off the counter and feed them into a counting machine.

"Thanks," Morrow spat facetiously, retrieving his shockmitts and approaching the ring.

 

[Dante Iblis]

The organizer's double, no, the organizer herself, the other was the double. No, the organizer's ... clone? Dante couldn't quite tell, they looked practically identical. She began a long pitch, something clearly rehearsed going by the stilted delivery.

Dante had to give it to her, she did managed to raise his spirits. Her talk of the apex of the galaxy, which Dante agreed was situated here on Coruscant, and her appeal to his legacy each did well to put him at ease.

For the first time since he'd begun his career, it felt as though there were others who shared his dream of glory in the fight.

Dante shot a glance at Seluseus while the woman gestured. Perhaps there were managers out there who were different from that greedy slimeball?

The blonde continued, speaking of fortunes and-

"Imagine this: You go down in the final round—

The words passed her lips and instantly killed any good faith Dante had been willing to give.

It sickened Dante. Every syllable spoken in this room killed the sport he loved with all his heart, killed the fire that burned whenever he crossed fists with someone. And there was nothing he could do to stop it, without risking losing that love and that fire instantly, forever.

But Seluseus still hung on every word the blonde woman was saying, nodding and mirroring her enthusiasm. He was buying everything she was selling.

Dante stared at the locker doors with a hollow expression as the blonde fumbled through all the ways to address him.

Seluseus, meanwhile, was practically humming his agreement.

"Whadd'ya say?"

The presentation concluded. The pitch was made, and Dante felt sick to his core. He could hear the Barabel's next words ring out before they left his mouth.

"My sweet darling, that is music to my ears," Seluseus purred. "Deal!"

The Barabel held out his hand toward the organizers, the large grin on his face revealing a row of yellowed, dagger-like teeth. In that same moment, Dante shot up from the bench behind the Barabel and punched one of the locker doors.

The durasteel plate caved in. There was a deep indentation left in its centre when he withdrew his fist, and he sighed.

"If you'll excuse me I have to prepare for a fight," the shockboxer's voice came hollow, resigned. He made for the door to leave the trio behind.

Seluseus remained silent for a few moments and made no attempt to stop his client.

"Don't mind him, he hasn't been sleeping right," Seluesus said, forcing a smile at the twins. "Nerves and hyperspace-jitters all that, you know how it is," he waggled his hands to mime his point.

"So then, how does a fourty-sixty split of the profits sound? Oh, and don't you worry, sweethearts, he'll do as you say to make us those credits," the Barabel continued.

He cast a glance at the door again, and his cheery demeanour became more strained for the briefest moment.

"Trust me, he'll do exactly as you say."

Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Morrow

 

[Monaray Dod]

23:00 ||Outlander Club
Tansu Treicolt Morrow Talin Treicolt Dante Iblis
​

"The Outlander Club, as it is referred to by the civilian population. My tactical assessment is that this establishment is filled with squalor and unsavory individuals that occupy its premises."

AUT-15 elaborated to an unspecified audience, as the typically bustling streets of the Underworld appeared deserted, possibly as a result of the Federal Assembly relocating to Fondor and the likely invasion of the planet by the Dark Empire.

The Imperial Successor state emerged from the merging of the New Imperial Order and the Brotherhood of the Maw, two factions whose union ultimately would result in catastrophic consequences by a margain of at least 0000000.37% and the assured victory of the Galactic Alliance.

The tactical droid moved into the Humanoid Establishment, the resounding clang of metallic footsteps echoing through the air, impossible to overlook by those individuals not intoxicated by the copious amounts of alcohol and spice coursing through their bodies.

It seemed that a shock boxing match was unfolding, as the internal scanners indicated a probability of injury occurring to be approximately 12%. Quickly forming an opinion that such skills could be more effectively utilized in strategic endeavors, such as providing hand-to-hand combat instruction for the Alliance Defense Forces.

"It will provide an opportunity to examine organic interactions within a more aggressive environment, allowing for a deeper analysis."

AUT-15 explained internally, taking a seat nearby to watch the match unfold.

 

[Tarre Priest]

There was always fun to be had with watching shockboxing. It was one of the few sports I could watch without feeling like it was just a bunch of idiots smashing into each other. This was a delicate balance of foot work, body placement, situational awareness, strength, and most of all, the mental game of controlling your opponent in the fight. Forcing them to do what you wanted by hitting them the right way, or with the right combos. While it had been quite a while since I have been in practice, I always enjoyed the chance to take time away off work to go to a showing. Specifically a name I have been seeing recently in the scene.

Dante.

Man he was good. The kid had a natural talent to dance around his opponent and hit them with a force that you rarely see without some kind of Space Magic. The few interviews he had done were rather enlightening. Having seen some of his fights on the Holonet, I was fortunate enough to get a place to see the man in the flesh. Drego Ruus and Mia Monroe would be treating me like a child if they knew how much I was enjoying the idea of seeing my "Sports hero" in action.

However, there was this new contender who was supposed to show up that he was going against. Apparently the new guy who had never been in a fight before, wanted to go up against Dante who had a number of wins, and a real shot at being a Golden-Gauntlet champion. Which was ballsy to say at least. So many bets were flying about. Some smaller ones of like a couple hundred creds. While on the other hand, there were some who bet thousand and thousands of credits in favor of Dante.

All I can say, is this will be an interesting fight. I eagerly await the announcement of their fight.

Dante Iblis Morrow Monaray Dod Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt I'dadr Gargon

 

[I'dadr Gargon]

The Galactic Alliance was in shambles, their former capital was now being evacuated for Fondor. Which was far away from the front, and with recent fallout between the senate and Ijaat Mereel it looked liked there would be no allies to help the cultural hub of the alliance. I'dadr was making a pit stop to the planet after hearing about a famed Shockboxing match with the rising star Dante Iblis and an unknown mystery fighter. Mandalorian or not, the easiest way to earn respect from the commando was to step in the ring fearlessly.

The scenery was as chaotic as the mandalorian suspected a place like this would be, even with it being his first time in a place like this. There was gambling, temporary companions, and all forms of scum and villainy inside this place.

But it made sense that the arueliti would have it here, it was a sport built around giving blunt force trauma with a touch of electrocution. So the scenery would support this type of crowd, however there were some of his own scum here it seemed. A vod that he worked with on Ancora, where together they trained a force of guerillas in preparation for a likely conflict with the sith menace.

With this likely being the last time the Verde would see this planet before it's eventual fall. It was good that he would have a fellow comrade to share this match with. "Sucuyar Vod. (Greetings Friend)" , the gunslinger said in mandoa before sitting next to Tarre. The crowd seemed to be getting impatient as much as Gargon was, with several drunk patrons having to be escorted off for their agitated actions. "For once the Arueliti are right, I am ready for this fight to start. " .

Dante Iblis Tarre Priest Talin Treicolt Morrow Monaray Dod Tansu Treicolt

 

[Talin Treicolt]

“35-65?” Talin asked. The man’s demeanor said everything. “Alright, 40-60! I better go tend to our champion. Oh, look.”

Taking moved to the bench, frowning. A red bag with a pair of mitts poking out of had caught her interest. Calculating, her eyes flickered back to her mirror.

“Oh, my! Tan, could you take these to Dante? That’ll fix the nerves. A pretty lady always does it. Trust me, I’m a certified source.”

The words were spoken to soothe any dispute from the manager. Her facial expression told another quiet story. Eyes widened, lips pursed, she attempted to communicate with her sister in the unspoken language practiced since they were kids. Something was off.




Outside the locker rooms, the crowd had come to life. Talin nodded toward the droid as she walking past. Was that good for their line? Surely, he was able to figure odds a whole lot better than them. If they were lucky, he wouldn’t partake in the frivolities. Her cornerman interrupted the consideration of a new rule.

“You and your sister were really cuttin’ close.” A whistle rolled off his tongue. “But you managed. Over there.”

The nod pointed to a dark haired teen. A good frame about him, but he had to be of an age with Talin. Chit. That made their plans a little less believable.

“Was a mystery to us, too.” She responded absentmindedly. “Excuse me.”

She began to weave her way ring side, but stopped first at the nearest bookie.

“Move the line, +300 Dante.”

Then, continuing onward, she approached the stranger with an extended hand.

“Talin. Our ring. I’m sure you saw the ad, fighters fee good?” Ocean eyes narrowed slightly. “Got a a background in ‘boxin?”

 

[Morrow]

Morrow sensed an approach during a subpar tape job over his right fist. Lazuline gaze bent to the force-borne notion, rising to meet a pair of like-colored eyes. As his regard widened to the approaching stranger, he was quickly taken by the least disgusting thing he'd seen since entering the club. Her blonde tresses had a mesmeric quality largely unlike the black and browns of New Eol Sha he was familiar with. She also lacked the austere, mannish quality of imperial physiognomy. That was all not to mention, well, the rest of her.

“Talin. Our ring. I’m sure you saw the ad, fighters fee good?”

"Talin," he echoed. "Morrow."

"Got a a background in ‘boxin?”

"No."

Eyes crept down then flew up the entirety of Talin's presence. An indecorous grin crept across his face, flashing straight whites behind thin lips. There wasn't a single effort made to hide his admiration of the backwater babe. Passions and ardor came riding on whispers from the Dark Side. A long discordance of impressions followed. Among them, a revelation of incongruity illuminated itself beneath the aspirations of the flesh that flared upon the sight of her. There was an aftertaste of deception.

"I suspect neither do you," he declared through his coquettish grin. "I was just thinking you're far too pretty for a shithole like this."

Secrets would remain secrets. His expression dissolving into a smirk, scrutiny returned to his hands. A few more wrapping motions would finish his right fist. When he began on his left, the motions were visibly less coordinated. If anyone important was watching, his southpaw status was now exposed.

"I need money, thought I'd try my luck here," he explained. "I've never boxed, but I have other experience where it counts." It was plainly stated, betraying whether or not Morrow understood the weight of his decision. It might have looked like a hustle, or as if he was dangerously insane or confident. Unbeknownst to everyone, his ace in the hole was that unholy sixth sense he possessed, an all-or-nothing ploy to retire his opponent with his unfair advantage and disappear with the money.

Looking back up to Talin, the smirk intensified once again. "Since we're all betting anyway, would you like to make a wager?"

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

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Dante's sudden outburst and the subsequent crunch of metal made Tansu flinch. A noise of surprise hopped out of her, and she blinked. It was the first indicator that something was wrong. The second was the over-assurance from the manager. The third was the conclusion that clicked betwixt through Twintuition.

"Mhmmm." She sing-songed her agreement and scooped up the mitts, which surprisingly didn't reek of sweat. "You betcha bippity."

With only one more nod to the reddish manager, Tansu followed the lead of the other two and exited the locker room. Outside the room, she peeled against a wall, avoided the crowds' business, and took the time to reach into the bag and lift out one of the gloves. Her fingers curled around the puffy shape of where the knuckles would be and felt the intricately patterned metallic threads. Then she closed her eyes and stuck her hand in the glove itself.

Something had been wrong between the fighter and his manager, and Talin and Tansu had seen it too late. Only after the deal had been struck.

She closed her eyes and flexed her hand, and the room and all the indiscernible pre-show babble faded.

Around her hand, the glove vibrated with the energy of a hundred fights, each imprinting its story into the fabric. She felt the adrenaline-fueled grip of the young fighter, desperate to prove his worth and pursue gory in dimly lit arenas. With each pulse of the glove's hidden capacitors, she experienced the jolt of electricity that coursed through opponents, the crackling energy synching with the fighter's pounding heartbeat. There was heart to each swing, to each fight.

Visions flashed faster, a kaleidoscope of triumphs and defeats. She felt the sting of sweat, the taste of blood, and the roar of fleeting victory.

Blinking back to the present, Tansu pulled her hand from the glove and quickly stuffed it back in its bag.

The remnants of the fights lingered like ghostly imprints of emotions and electric fury still tingling in her fingertips. The shock boxing glove was a chronicle of resilience, each spark a story of struggle, strength, and heart. Those visions belonged to someone who was trying to accomplish something, who was giving it their all every time. It only took a few seconds to recognize where she and Talin had made the mistake.

She exhaled heavily, scanned the audience and the ring quickly, and saw no sight of him. There was only one other place he could have been. Each of the fighters had their own designated tunnel for preparation ahead of the fight and for a dramatic entrance. The mouth of each tunnel had pyrotechnic motors primed and ready to explode with a spray of sparks once their names were bellowed out and they were invited to the ring.

It was in his tunnel that Tansu found Dante doing precisely what he'd said. Preparing for a fight. He seemed to be finishing a count of push-ups, his body planked out.

Intruding on the pre-fight ritual might have felt awkward if she hadn't grown up with two brothers who were always doing stupid things and using any opportunity to work out at home. But she stepped right past that and into his proximity, holding the gloves out like a peace offering.

"Hey, Mister Dante!" She announced herself loudly, in case he was in his own head or had headphones in she couldn't see. "You left these behind in the locker room. You'll probably need 'em."

He'd have no way to understand that she read their history, and she needed to figure out what to make of it or what to do next. If she could undo an agreement. And if she did, how would that affect herself and her sister? She and Talin…really needed the credits. They were in debt and in trouble.

"Uh," She held the gloves before her for him to take. "Is your hand okay? I think there are bacta bandages here somewhere.."

Her brows pinched together.

"So.." He probably already had a lot on his mind. Once he was in the ring, it was just him and someone who wanted to knock his lights out. That seemed heady.

"Uh, my sister and I..we..we really need the credits. Fixin' a fight was the quickest way we could think of to make what we owe." She tilted the brim of her cowboy hat up so he could see her face. Yeah they were swindlers tonight, but they didn't mean to be cruel about it.

"Does that..happen to you a lot? Your manager seemed in on it right away, and you.." She looked at his hand pointedly. "I don't wanna rattle your nerves or anythin'; you got a lot going on, coming up, getting in that ring and stuff, just..somethin' seemed off, and we thought we should ask? Maybe? I'm not sure what to do or what to expect you to do. What happens if you....just fight how you want?"

____________________________________________________________

Dante Iblis | Talin Treicolt | Morrow | Tarre Priest | I'dadr Gargon | Monaray Dod
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Dante Iblis]

Dante breathed heavily. His arms burned from the strain of exertion. Sweat beads rolled down his face and hair. The world beyond that one particular spot of permacrete floor he'd focused with his eyes did not exist anymore. Thoughts were slow. In a fight, thoughts could kill, and moments ago his head had buzzed with them. Now, only that one spot of permacrete on the floor and the persistent push, drop, push, drop movement of the next push-up existed.

He finished another set, holding himself upright in the ready position to take several long breaths and to let the fire in his arms slowly drain with each fill of oxygen his lungs received.

"Hey, Mister Dante! You left these behind in the locker room. You'll probably need 'em."

Dante winced. He turned, supporting himself with one hand, to get a look at the intruder.

The organizer stared down at him from closer than was comfortable. Or was it the double? He couldn't tell, and he didn't much care beyond the shock gloves she held in her hand. His shock gloves, and his bag, which seemed to be open.

"Uh," She held the gloves before her for him to take. "Is your hand okay? I think there are bacta bandages here somewhere.."

He met her faux-concern with a look of irrtation. From push-up position, he hopped up and stretched to standing height, then and snatched the gloves from her, weighing them out in his hands. Had they been tampered with? They felt the same as always, but knowing the Barabel and his chit, there would be no telling until he switched them on in the ring.

To his surprise, she stayed around, standing there with his bag still slung over her shoulder. If the only reason she'd came was to bring his belongings, she was being particularly slow about it. She tilted her hat up to find his irritated eyes still adjudicating what to do about her boldness about his bag and her intrusion.

"So..", she started. "Uh, my sister and I..we..we really need the credits. Fixin' a fight was the quickest way we could think of to make what we owe."

"Does that..happen to you a lot? Your manager seemed in on it right away, and you.." Her eyes dropped to his hand. It had reddened around his knuckles, and shook slightly when he moved.

"I don't wanna rattle your nerves or anythin'; you got a lot going on, coming up, getting in that ring and stuff, just..somethin' seemed off, and we thought we should ask? Maybe? I'm not sure what to do or what to expect you to do. What happens if you....just fight how you want?"

Dante sighed. Her concern seemed genuine enough at least, but he was furious, and by all accounts, he had every right to be. Here, on Coruscant of all places, he'd been roped into another swindle that undermined everything he'd fought for back on Hetzal Prime and beyond. His manager and those rigged fights be damned, it took everything out of him to go into that ring each time and live to see the next fight. Shockboxers didn't take to weakness with sympathy, they were warriors same as any other. They pounced on openings when they saw them, and the worst of them did their best to make the hurt last. Permanently, if they could. And when your opponent was purposely messing up? They smelled blood in the water.

Now, here one of the organizers stood before him trying to show sympathy and to seem compassionate while she asked him to throw another fight in the same breath, risking his life and career in the process.

By all acounts, he was damn right to be furious. By all accounts, he was right to tell her to shut her rancor pit and charge up the boarding ramp of a Hutt.

But that wasn't the kid this parents raised. He'd had his troubles, but he'd also been their farm-hand through sun-drenched days. He'd been lost to them for a while now, but he wouldn't lose the honour in upholding the manners they'd taught him.

"Look, don't waste your breath trying to help. You're a resourceful one, but you'll only be trying to make banthas fly with this one," his irritation dropped to only annoyance. "You're in debt and you need the credits, I get it. You'll get the money. I stick to my word, even when that fat lizard speaks it for me."

He held out his good hand for the bag.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have some bacta in there and a hand to tend to. The fight's starting in less than a minute."

Morrow Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Tarre Priest Monaray Dod I'dadr Gargon

 

[Talin Treicolt]

Morrow // Fight starts soon:tm:

A spectrum of emotions flashed before a surge of rage hardened Talin’s expression. The blush which decorated her cheeks added fuel to the fire. Too often since leaving Concord Dawn had she found herself on the back foot. A pretty boy’s arrogance wouldn’t drive her back to it when she had just found solid ground. Snatching the tape from him, she set about finishing the wrap.

“Thought wrong. My granddaddy was a shock boxer. We’ll just see how far luck gets you.” With teeth, she tore his hand free of the roll. “Come on. Have to make an entrance and you need a ring name.”

Striding past him with second glance, she expected him to follow. Their path up the few rows of seating, around the bar, and back down a covered flight of stairs, to the tunnel opposite of Dante Iblis . They were racing a clock, but Talin found herself hung on his offer. It was only in the sanctum of darkness offered by the underpass did she indulge.

“What’re we bettin’? If I could throw a better punch than you? How many rounds ‘till you realize fightin’ ain’t your bag?”

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Her stomach tightened. Everything about Dante's demeanour affirmed that which she and her sister had suspected but discovered too late.

"Look, don't waste your breath trying to help. You're a resourceful one, but you'll only be trying to make banthas fly with this one,"
"You're in debt and you need the credits, I get it. You'll get the money. I stick to my word, even when that fat lizard speaks it for me."

Still, she tried to be optimistic. The blonde shifted her weight from side to side, moving on the balls of her feet energetically. "Y'know, if you can tip a bantha, it's just a matter of perspective if it flies or not. We tip bantha all the time back home. Very doable." That probably wasn't the best pep-talk, but, she wanted to convey somehow the possibility of best-case-scenarios.

Tansu was so busy watching him, trying to discern the truth behind a dynamic they'd overlooked, that she'd forgotten to hand over the bag.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have some bacta in there and a hand to tend to. The fight's starting in less than a minute."

"Oh. Yeah! Of course." She passed it over, but took liberty to rummage through it and procure out the bacta bandages he would have had to dig for. Personal belongings weren't really something she had in a family of five, and this fellow seemed short on time. It seemed the most convenient and expedient option. "Here, you need help? Or do you have a pre-fight ritual of lonesome focus? In which case I totally get it and have at it, but you uh..

About your word — sorry, one more thing — you didn't actually say anything. Not a peep! You just punched a locker. So.." She shrugged and trailed off, letting the implications settle as the seconds counted down.

____________________________________________________________
Dante Iblis | Talin Treicolt | Morrow | Tarre Priest | I'dadr Gargon | Monaray Dod
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Morrow]

Morrow sensed emotions churning beneath mutual lazuline gazes at the behest of his efforts—another of the Dark Side's many gifts. Noting the pink that overtook her features, his self-satisfied expressions dissolved into a stolid baseline, betraying outwardly whether he had noticed her wordless feedback.

“Thought wrong. My granddaddy was a shock boxer. ”

Following a complete lack of resistance to her seizing the tape Morrow replied; "Not sure that counts."

“We’ll just see how far luck gets you.”

"Figure of speech."

At the bidding of Talin's glance, Morrow followed. Hecklers had choice words for him as he followed down the aisle between seating. Before disappearing behind the bar, Morrow made an effort to remember their faces. He'd have words to feed them later if all went well. Several strides later, in the ring walk tunnel, he could finally feel the adrenaline bubbling. Talin's voice drew him from weighing up the impending situation.

“What’re we bettin’? If I could throw a better punch than you? How many rounds ‘till you realize fightin’ ain’t your bag?”

Even if he didn't win, he'd make it ten rounds or die trying. It was a perfect insurance prospect. "Hah," a flat scoff emanated from his shadowed visage. Producing the last of his credits, Morrow took Talin's hand and placed the sum into her palm. "Put this on going all the way." His timbre ensured the overtone wouldn't be lost on her.

The ring announcer's voice boomed across the venue, taking him out of his unbecoming display. A glance floated toward the curtain and then back to Talin. "Call me The Cleaner," he ordered regarding her earlier proposal of a ring name. Retrieving his shockmitts, he sunk horizontally into the shadows, breaking through the curtains right on the announcer's cue.

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

 

[Dante Iblis]

"Oh. Yeah! Of course," she said offering the bag.

Dante grabbed it, and was about to reach for the small med compartment, but the organizer girl began digging through his belongings right in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and watched her fumble through it until, eventually, she struck the med compartment and retrieved the small bottle of bacta and his hand wraps.

"Here, you need help? Or do you have a pre-fight ritual of lonesome focus? In which case I totally get it and have at it, but you uh..

Dante glanced at the small timer counting the seconds above her head. Thirty seconds to go.

"About your word — sorry, one more thing — you didn't actually say anything. Not a peep! You just punched a locker. So.."

Dante rolled his eyes and grabbed both hand wraps and bacta, pinching the bottle between his side and bicep while he quickly rushed through wrapping his hands. Even pressed on time and injured, he managed remarkably quickly, and cleanly.

"Look," he said and began to pour the conents of the bottle over his injured right hand to soak the wrap cloth. "Sweetheart, you're tryin' and I appreciate it, but you really gotta learn not to hop the fence onto your neighbour's farm."

The clock behind her read five seconds to go. Four.

Dante slipped the shock gloves over the hand wraps, and wiped the sweat off face with a towel. Then he dumped everything back in the bag and tossed it into the corner.

"Go and find yourself a good view from outside the ring," he said, facing the tunnel curtains.

The clock hit zero.

He moved beyond the shadows of the tunnel, letting the heavy curtains fall off his shoulders and arms slowly, and took his first step into the arena hall.

The light was blinding and the crowd roared wildly above the echoes of the announcer's amplified voice. Sparks exploded to either side of him, and Dante raised his fists triumphantly into the air, welcoming the audience's cheers.

He had stepped into his element. The crowd was expecting a show and he did not intend to disappoint.

Morrow Monaray Dod Tarre Priest I'dadr Gargon Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt

 

[Tarre Priest]

A familiar voice came to my side. Sitting down beside me before I could say much. Gargon had sat down next to me. HIs words of a casual greeting interesting to hear. Considering last time was when we were much more formal. The young man was also interested in the boxing match. A nod was given his direction as I spoke.

"Didn't take you for a Shockboxer. More of a Hunting man."

Turning back to the open ring that had yet to be announced, it was getting closer and closer to the time when they would be showing up. Being shown off and strutting their stuff down the lane to the cage.

"Just a word of the wise for you, Don't speak this to anyone else. My guilty pleasures are my own."

Holding out a small holopad, it would show the contestant of Dante. And a silhouette of just some individual. No name or information yet. Kind of left open in the dark. And that was part of the allure of betting. Making bets before the fight started with missing information. The fun of watching your money grow, or the horror as you lost it all.

"I'm not a betting man. I just want to watch the fight."

Morrow Dante Iblis I'dadr Gargon Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Monaray Dod

 

[Monaray Dod]

23:00 ||Outlander Club
Tansu Treicolt Morrow Talin Treicolt Dante Iblis Tarre Priest I'dadr Gargon
​

"Begin observation analysis, run recording program for future combat data"

The observation of a growing crowd within the establishment did not require the computational capabilities of a supercomputer, as the tactical droid began recieving data internally. Most individuals present were likely to have a criminal record, or be affiliated with the criminal organziations commonly operating on this particular level.

He tallied up a total of seventeen individuals involved in the distribution of death sticks, fourteen gamblers who probably obtained their credits by stealing from beggars on the streets, and twelve exotic dancers who were most likely either indebted to the establishment owners or had been sold by the Hutt Cartels.

AUT-14 noticed the acknowledgment from Talin Treicolt as they strolled by, having witnessed numerous individuals emerging from the rear of the venue. It appeared that they were possibly attempting to wager their earnings or arrange confrontations between fresh participants and tough individuals.

The two fighters finally emerged on stage, one Morrow and one Dante Iblis enter into the ring, to the excitement of the crowd.

"During these organic combat matches, it appears to be the norm to engage in currency betting. Hence, I will wager 500 credits on each combatant to safeguard against any potential losses that may arise if my statistical analysis proves to be inaccurate throughout the duration of the engagement."

The tactical droid elucidated the process to a jawa seated nearby at the table, utilizing its transceivers to transmit the designated sum to the betting station.

"Untini!" The jawa said.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

A shiver slithered up Talins spine as the credits found her hand. It was more than touch alone - an inkling of certainty broke the barrier between minds. As sure as the rooster would crow, Morrow would claim his prize. Knowledge left her without wit. Wordlessly, he faded into the darkness, whilst something akin to a snakes coil left her breathless.

“Are you ready to RUUUUUUMBLE?” Tak’ars energy spread amongst the crowd. Frenzied cheering met his cry. “Books are closed, folks; let’s see if your bets pay off. We got official fan club merch by the bar if you want to show your fighters some love. Now, onto our riveting duel! Two scrappers who sure to give you a show!

In this corner, our rising star, teen heart throb, your likely favorite…. LAZY ILBISSSS!”

A short pause allowed an uproar. Followed by a fuchsia streak, the ref droid quickly rolled over to shove away the lady’s undergarment from the stage.

“And in this corner… the man mad enough to challenge him, our underdog, your wild card… THE CLEANER!”

Talin took the cover of thunder to make her exit and slip out of the tunnel. Finding her way ringside, she took a seat at the book, glancing over numbers. Spotlights danced amongst the two rivals before settling decisively in the center. The toll of a bell marked the beginnings of a war.

 

[I'dadr Gargon]

A familiar voice came to my side. Sitting down beside me before I could say much. Gargon had sat down next to me. HIs words of a casual greeting interesting to hear. Considering last time was when we were much more formal. The young man was also interested in the boxing match. A nod was given his direction as I spoke.

"Didn't take you for a Shockboxer. More of a Hunting man."

Turning back to the open ring that had yet to be announced, it was getting closer and closer to the time when they would be showing up. Being shown off and strutting their stuff down the lane to the cage.

"Just a word of the wise for you, Don't speak this to anyone else. My guilty pleasures are my own."

Holding out a small holopad, it would show the contestant of Dante. And a silhouette of just some individual. No name or information yet. Kind of left open in the dark. And that was part of the allure of betting. Making bets before the fight started with missing information. The fun of watching your money grow, or the horror as you lost it all.

"I'm not a betting man. I just want to watch the fight."

Morrow Dante Iblis I'dadr Gargon Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Monaray Dod

"Oh I love hunting, but on Gargon there is not much activities to do Vod. It's a planet filled with mountains and swamps, so the only thing to do is fight, frack, or work. " . Pausing he would let his comrade speak, it seemed that some of his Allit gave him a hard time for liking Shock boxing. Chuckling at the thought he would respond as in a hearty voice, "Vod Vod, what stays happens on Outlander Club stays here. Now you might not be a betting man, but I love an underdog. Ill be betting on the unknown figure." . In fact before sitting down , that is what I'dadr did, he bet on the other figure rather then the obvious favorite.

Clan Gargon was once that underdog, the clan and planet were nearly destroyed. But now they had banded together, with the entire planet merging into Clan Gargon after seeing what I'dadr could do as an underdog himself. From Gargon being unimportant, it now had a new Mandalorian Town Called Gargonia. Where Panther Arsenal and Strill Securities had associated buildings giving jobs and prosperity to the clan. The sentiment of being the underdog made the A'lor almsot always support the underdog. It was a strength and flaw in his character.

"You might not be betting Tarre, but come on there has to be someone you want to win. Which fighter do you want to come out of this a winner? " . They were going to be brothers and arms for a long time, and fought for the same thing. The Mandalorian Protector decided it was best to make friends with more of his people. Better that than an Arueliti that cant handle their alcohol like where they both were at now.

Dante Iblis Morrow Monaray Dod Tansu Treicolt Talin Treicolt Tarre Priest