Enemy of my Enemy, Friend of my Friend

[Talia]

The Mara corridor had its fair share of space stations and pit stops and saw all sorts of folk travelling up and down it. These days it was the least taxed and controlled too. Once you got past Dressel and hit Galactic Empire space? Well, that was another matter for another day. The bar was just like any other along this space lane, dirty, noisy and full of every kind of person the back of nowhere produced. Smugglers, mercenaries, thieves, assassins, bounty hunters. You could land on any space station along this corridor and find someone for a job or a job for yourself.

For Talia, today was about neither. It had been a personal fight, the ones she wasn’t especially fond of. Her contractor had failed to pay up at Canto Bight, so she’d wasted valuable resources to track him her. It had been a quick fight, that much was for sure. It wasn’t that Talia was mad, but reputation was something her job thrived on. If the next contractor caught wind that she let payments slide, she’d wind up with a kill list as long as her arm and no coin to show for it.

She shifted the ice pack on her hand with a small grimace as the bothan behind the bar poured her another drink. He told her it was whiskey, but she was fairly certain he was lying. What did it matter anyway, did the same thing. Her helmet rested on the bar, angle perfectly set so the entrance was reflected in the black t-visor. She liked to watch the door, but facing it gave the impression she was watching it too easily.

Talia drained the glass, removed the ice pack and tested the movement in her hand. “Bet the other guys face looks worse than your hand, eh?” She raised an eyebrow at the man who sidled up next to her. He withered under her stare, cleared his throat and found somewhere else to sit. She smiled to herself. Sintas had always told her that she had the ability to crush a mans dreams with just a look. The thought of her brother wiped the smile from her face and she tapped the bar with her glass to order another drink.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

In came walking one Ronan Vizsla.

His helmet clutched between the hooks of his fingers, eyes roaming the bar and letting all of the attention wash over him. Vizsla had been 'on the road' for past days now, the small fleet of freighters, transports and several larger ships.

Destination... unknown.

Part of him wanted to explore Rishi. This would be difficult with that Empire struggling for life, but perhaps it would be a pleasant distraction. Burn down an empire and force its collapse, before turning their attention back towards the real issue. He settled himself down at the bar. Two men immediately detached themselves and moved away, that... was also expected.

"Ale." Ronan finally said, elbows on the table. While the keep was making it work Vizsla shifted his attention to the Mandalorian sitting three seats up. "Don't appreciate having a gun aimed on me."

Two more detached and left.

 

[Talia]

It had happened in a fluid motion, the moment he'd stepped into the door frame, the tension shifting ever so slightly in her shoulders as her bruised hand slid the blaster from her hip and from there the rest was natural. Electricity seemed to spark in the air between those three seats, and not the good kind either. "Tough chit." she replied, not looking directly at him, instead taking a keen interest in the amber liquid in her glass, no longer concealing the fact she was trailing the weapon on him.

"Your alor rose up to turn our traditions into ash. He tore clans apart, mine in particular, over an fanatical notion that all force users are a danger to our livelihood when actually it was him. Now? Now that man has gone. Again. And suddenly you have broken away from the Empire. Publicly. All seems for too coincidental to me."

She drained the glass, tapped the bar for another and ignored the bothan who's hand seems to be trembling slightly. A group in a nearby booth gently eased their way out of it, skirting the shadows for the door. They moved a little faster when Talia twisted in her seat, the blaster steady in her hand for all to see.

There wasn't any anger in the expression the redhead settled upon him. Just cold calculation.

"Not only are you an unknown entity, [member="Ronan Vizsla"], but you are also a dangerous man. I like to keep threats in my sights. So the weapon stays till you can convince me you aren't one."

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

"That a fact?" Ronan's fingers curled around the glass and he took a sip from the ale. Relaxed, nonchalant, there wasn't any apparent tension in his shoulders or the rest of his body to signify anything of hostile intent.

Or preparation.

But maybe that only made it worse.

Over the rim of his glass Ronan studied Talia with passing interest. Her armor, set of her shoulders, even the way she took towards the drink. It was all filed away while he let the moment stretch on, the tension simmering up. The patrons that were fascinated took their time to subtly create more space, the cowards had already vacated the room by the first opportunity.

"You got it the other way around, vod, it's up to you to show me you ain't worth threatening."

Then another sip.

He had come here for a drink after all.

 

[Talia]

It was all too calm, too smooth. From his apparent nonchalance to the smirk that found her lips as she drained the glass and tapped the bar again, without taking her eyes off him. "Oh, I'm definitely worth threatening." she replied with a humourless chuckle. she set the weapon on the bar top and left it there. Still pointed in his direction. Fast he might be, but she'd have it in her hand before he made the third step to reach her.

That being said, if she was going to trash a place in a fight with a Vizsla she'd rather do it with her hands.

"Why'd you leave? The little wolf prove too much for you to handle?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

"Stating a thing with certainty doesn't make it true." Ronan pointed out calmly with another sip to punctuate. Oh, this was working up to something. He could feel it in the air, could smell the tension, there was static slowly forming in the air and Ronan was starting to get interested. There was something true about a fight, something honest, something firm about fists clashing against meat.

The talking, the blabbering, the politicking... it was wearing on him.

He loathed it and its urgency.

"Same reason why you and yours attacked Myrkr rather than go for Mandalore itself." Oh, it was a gamble, but something about this one suggested something. The earlier words, the intent behind it. Her training. She was a forcer, no doubt. With one gesture Ronan finished the glass and put it down to the table, but didn't request a refill for the moment.

Instead he leaned against the bar and then smiled his own smile.

"Are you going to continue forming words like that little wolf?" Challenge set.

 

[Talia]

Tongue in cheek, a mirthless laugh slipped from her, gaze dropped momentarily to the amber liquid. Touche, she thought, and slid off her chair. The force building inside her, strengthening her.

Drink still in hand she closed the gap between them and the air seemed to crack. The crowd that had lingered to watch seemed to take a collective breath when she stopped at his elbow.

The liquid in her glass swilled for a moment before she drained it.

Challenge accepted.

"No."

She had the briefest of thoughts, that perhaps had he been of another clan and this been under different circumstances, she might have found him attractive. The thought passed and the glass filled hand swung for his face.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

Ronan breathed in.

He could hear her heart beat its rhythm, a fraction of anticipation interrupted the steady cadence and tipped Vizsla off. Barely. He shifted his body and with his momentum aimed to slam his glass into the side of her head. The quick movement allowed him to avoid a face full of glass shards, instead it burst against his shoulder and nicked cuts up his neck, his jaw.

This was close-quarters.

Close enough that every movement caught her scent in the air and it told him tales. He didn't wait for her to finish or to retort, instead he slammed himself into her to catch her off her feet.

On the ground Ronan would hold the advantage.

 

[Talia]

Talia raised her arm to protect her face, his glass shattered, splinters finding their way between armour pieces. She didn't have time to contemplate the pain as he slammed into her, snatching breath from her chest but she moved no more than a few inches, feet rooted and force keeping her steady.

Energy surged though her arms as she slammed both palms into his chest with the force of a battering ram, the intention to send him flying.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

Forcer indeed.

Anyone normal would have been slammed to the ground by his force, but not this one. *Good*, it meant that this would be a challenge. There were ways to fight forcers and the number one strategy was to keep them on their toes, push their concentration and make it impossible for them to think of their next turn, much less five turns in the future.

But they were *close* and there wasn't room to maneuver here.

Just as her palms connected with his breastplate his fist was looming towards the other side of her head, aiming to knock her down with an armoured punch.

Then her palms connected and the force send him flying backwards against the bar.

But he wasn't human. He was strong, had better balance and had good reflexes. He caught himself against the keep, pushing himself off while his gauntlets grabbed around the stool he had been sitting in. Aiming to slam it into her one way or another.

His chest burned though.

Nothing shattered, but she had a *good* punch.

 

[Talia]

His strategy would have kept any normal forcer on their toes and stretched their concentration to its limits had Talia been in the realms of what was considered 'normal'. For her, the force wasn't about fancy tricks or extending concentration to see the battle five steps ahead. For her, the force was simply an aid to enhance her strength and speed, nothing more.

The gauntleted fist grazed her forehead instead of the full blow that was intended, the metal raking a red line across it.

The stool swung and Talia caught it, attempting to yank it from his grip before ramming him with it.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

The moment Ronan felt resistance his armored hands twisted hard.

His leg swept out from outside inward to sweep her off her feet while she was concentrating on the chair. Even with the fire in his chest, there was joy at this fight and she would feel that. Pure enjoyment and contentment to have found an opponent that could give him honest effort.

 

[Talia]

The stool twisted sharply in her grasp, twisting her hands and providing the exact distraction needed. She let go of the stool as his foot connected with her leg.

She landed hard on her side and rolled away, putting distance between herself and that chair, in case he tried to bring it down upon her. She came up to one knee with a wide grin on her face. It had been a long time since she'd had a brawl worth her time.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

This wasn't a fight to the death.

Or rather, not one where death had to come fast. If it had been Vizsla would have rushed in fast and kept her down. Instead a fraction of a second was offered - for anyone else it might have been missed, but she would know.

He didn't want this to end quickly.

That fraction ended and as she looked up the chair would be flying at her at speed already. Ronan might not be hellbent on killing her, but that didn't mean he was going easy on her.

 

[Talia]

Talia knew. This was less about insults and threats and more about gauging strengths. Talia had zero intention of killing him, she just wanted the pleasure of going toe to toe with someone capable, the fact that it was a Vizsla only made it all the more interesting. It was the greatest form of therapy available to her.

Both arms came up in a cross defence of the launched stool, using the momentum of the throw to launch it off to one side and into the observers with scattered. Toes dug into the ground, force swelling in her legs a split second before she launched herself at him, closing the distance in the blink of an eye and with every intent of tackling him off his feet.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

The way he went down his knees during the tackle told her he wanted this.

Within the span of a breath, right before collusion, Ronan shifted his body to avoid having his breath punched out of him by the force of her momentum. Rather than be completely locked tight by her armor and positioning, he had shimmy room.

Which he was using to roll them over to get on top of her.

 

[Talia]

It was incredibly difficult to stop such a momentum as Talia's even as she felt the control of the strike slipping form her she knew there was very little she could to do stop it. His superior size and weight trumped her here.

A curse slipped from her lips, but she snapped up a hand to crack him hard across the face.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

It took him full in the jaw.

The crack snapped his head to the side, but that only made him lock *her* harder against the floor. His own fist launched against her face.

This was approaching dangerous territory.

During these moments as blood welled up (his lip burst and bleeding) the hunger was the strongest. The thing could escalate, but strangely Ronan didn't feel the red cover his eyes. Not even while he took control and grabbed her hands shut.

"More?"

 

[Talia]

Talia's nose erupted under the sharp strike to her face, and she made for another retaliation but he caught her hands and she knew the fight was done. Laughter, gurgled from her throat in response and she relaxed, grinning up at him.

"Elek. But not today. Today I yield."

She let her head fall against the floor, chuckling, much to the alarm of the bystanders.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"]

He rolled off of her and leaned hard against the bar.

Head leaned back against the wood.

A second later a second voice added itself to her chuckle. His laugh was free, heavy, there was a certain sense of freedom in it that hadn't been there before. This fight had been good, the stakes behind it real and the emotions released satisying.

"Good fight." He rolled his neck and noticed a closed bottle laying next to him. Whiskey, good one too. It had probably found its way to the ground when he had crashed into it.

With a pop the bottle was opened.

If any had remained before, the crazed laughter they had shared scared them away.

Not even the bartender remained. "To good and bloody fights." Raised the bottle and took a good burning sip next.