The Down and Out

[Runi Verin]

Prologue: The Down and Out

And if you're gonna run at me you better do it hard
'cuz I fear no fall, no brawl, no scars.​

The first blow caught her off guard. Black and white dots filled her vision before she knew what hit her; the pain following a second or two later as she staggered back. It was a poor herald for the coming of the second punch. The Mandalorian’s balance all but failing her as it careened into her stomach, eliciting a whoosh of air and a choked off curse as she sank to one knee. A coppery tang filled her mouth, a thin read trail leaking past busted lips and rattled teeth.

“Had enough already, pup?” Her assailant questioned, scarred features curling back into a contemptuous scowl. Least Runi thought it was a scowl. The woman’s face was so badly mauled that it was hard to tell one expression from the other. Scars like that were the sure sign of a veteran of the fighting pits; badges of honour of victories hard earned. The kind where death was the only alternative. “They told me you were tough, but already you’re mewling at my feet.”

Battered and bleeding as she might have been, even Runi could tell when she was being baited. The woman was trying to get a rise out of her. Press her buttons and make her sloppy. ‘Sloppier,’ she correctly absently as she brought a hand up to her lips, dapping at the blood with the back of her hand. She had gotten soft these last few weeks. The armour, the beskad, the comrades… She had grown too accustomed to relying on them. Forgotten the cardinal rule of Kol Atorn.

You could only trust in yourself.

“’lek?” The salvager muses as she hauled herself back to a standing position, her body letting only the faintest groan of protest before it was neatly silenced. She was still dabbing at her lip as she spoke, her gaze never once leaving the pit fighter. “It’s funny, they told me the same thing about you. Seems we’re both set for disappointment.”
True to the idiom, the third time proved to be the charm. Confident in her victory, and perhaps a little eager to settle the fight before it had truly begun, the haymaker the pit fighter unleashed was fast and true. No doubt a devastating blow to be on the receiving end of, one that had very likely put to rest more than a few names more prominent and noteworthy than Runi Verin. Yet it met very little resistance as it cleaved through empty air, whistling over the head of its intended target.

Two quick, solid punches answered the call, jamming themselves into the woman’s liver in rapid succession. Even with the sensation was muted by the poorly connected nerve links, it felt like she was connecting with a duracrete barrier. Runi gritted her teeth, catching the woman’s quick counter attack on the edge of her shoulder as she stepped further into the nexu’s den. Again she sought to answer blow with blow, snapping a quick horizontal elbow before the pit fighter could recover, scoring her own flash of scarlet and a cursed oath as the woman fell back.

A fractured nose, Runi guessed as she watched the woman retreat. If she had been younger, she might have tried to press her advantage. Spurred on by the sight of blood to attempt a decisive finish. Age had taught her better. Age and too much loss. Even now the other woman’s eyes were alight and focused. A bloody, mirthless grin flickered into view; one Runi knew was no doubt an accurate mirror of her own.

“Well, I guess they might have had a few points right.” There was a bone-flinching crunch as she reset her nose, letting the blood fly freely as she cleared the passage with a faint snort. “You might actually be worth my time after all, pup.”