Private Interlude: Copper and Bone

[Mercy]

BETWEEN ROUND TWO AND THREE
Vestra Tane

Round two didn't end the way Mercy imagined it would go. She woke up once the ysalamir got crushed underneath her and found out that she had won the round.

The droid had been crushed, but she didn't quite remember doing it.

It was only after a trip in the bacta tank had allowed her to reconnect with what was hiding behind her psyche that Mercy figured out what happened.

Negotiation, browbeating, patience. Three traits that didn't come naturally to Mercy, but she used them all. Until her arm reshaped itself, golden, copper, amber, with sigils carved into the metallic flesh.

It was prettier now. And more alien. Mercy kinda loved it.

So enamored was she with her arm that she didn't realize someone had wandered into her locker room.

She'd have to speak up.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Mercy

"Like the arm. It's a good look." A voice, to break the quiet contemplation, came slithering from the interloper's mouth. The woman was perched in the doorway, with one hand - jet black, synthetic, textured - bracing against the doorframe, and the other grasping the rim on a carton full of fried...something? Some unidentifiable meat, made further indistinct by being drowned in oil.

"Nice moves in the ring, too."

Vestra had all the charisma of a used speeder salesman - friendly, jovial, and she positively excreted sleaze. This was a woman who would sell spice to babies if she could get away with it.

"You with the Syndicate?"

 

[Mercy]

Vestra Tane

Mercy heard the words but her amber eyes shifted almost immediately to the food being eaten in her presence. She licked her lips and only then glanced up to the woman infiltrating her peace.

"I am with myself, darling." The tank of a woman purred in response. Relaxing back into a slow stretch.

If Tane was an oily car saleswoman, Mercy was a mountain. Unmovable, formidable and above all, knowing her own worth utterly.

"Have you come to admire me or was there a point to your factual observations?"

It was all play.

Tane could see that her ego stroking had the desired effect. It was true and it was publically known that Mercy loved having her ego stroked.

But apparently what the stories didn't tell was that she was observant to a fault.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Mercy

"I'm here," Vestra kicked off the doorframe, and popped a nugget of oily meat between her teeth, "because I've got business plans."

Mercy, at least as far as Vestra was concerned, wasn't hard to read. You could learn a lot about someone by watching her bash some poor idiot's head into paste - and Vestra figured she had Mercy read to filth. Simple. Straightforward. Ego-driven. Not stupid - it was always dangerous when you started assuming people were stupid, in her line of work. Ambitious.

Hungry. That was the word. Vestra felt it - and not just literally, even though she had caught Mercy eyeing her snacks.

The scoundrel took a few steps toward the bruiser, flashed a grin, and offered a robotic hand.

"Vestra Tane. I was wondering if you've ever considered a career in organized crime."

 

[Mercy]

Vestra Tane

She watched the outstretched hand.

Then instead of standing up, her eldritch arm rose up. Within a breath the hand rend itself into tendrils... which extended itself further until they wrapped around Tane's hand and... lightly gave it a shake.

"Pleasure, darling." Mercy purred with a knowing smirk. "I was practically raised on Nar Shaddaa, though I suppose that was more unorganized."

Mercy licked her lips at the memories.

"I can practically taste your pitch on my tongue already, Vestra dear, shoot. You have my attention... for now."