Private Keep On Pushin'

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

She was supposed to step forward and lay down a real beatdown.

Then they were interrupted.

Mercy was rather annoyed by this, because this was her moment and truth to be told no one was allowed to interrupt it. Unless she decided to interrupt it herself, thank you very much.

"Who the kriff is this?" She demanded at Iayn. As if they were two buddies in the middle of a drinking session, instead of people who didn't even know each other but were in a fighting match instigated by hers truly. That was Mercy for you however. She didn't particularly care about social mores and things like that.

"Hey, slither-face." That's racist. "We are busy here, don't you see?"

Now Mercy took a step forward, but towards the Trandoshian and not towards Iayn.

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

The trandoshan's legs stood in place, but one of his scaly talons paged through the loop of skeleton keys at his belt before tapping on one. "I sssee," he drawled, "that you might be more comfortable down in the dirt." Iayn drew herself up now. As she did, he glanced over at her, then back to Mercy. "You. Not her. Sssome ssorry schutta bought her outta that life." He looked back at her, set his gaze there. "Hornless and all."

Iayn flashed him a sarcastic smile that Mercy might have well missed. "Your ugly mug needs it more that I do."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

A slow head tilt there.

For a moment Mercy wasn't sure she heard that right.

Then a glance over to Iayn. "I must have misheard that. Did slither-face just insult me?" This was already a steep departure from how Mercy was even two years ago. Two years ago? Her fist would already have been through the Trandoshian's head. Blood and all. Murdered without even a second thought or rhyme to it.

Now?

Mercy controlled herself.... barely.

"You friends with this one?" Still addressing Iayn and ignoring the Trandoshian now, because Mercy was relatively sure if she was looking at him, she'd see red with all the consequences that belonged to that.

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

"Friend? No," Iayn replied, looking to Mercy.

"Come now, Demonessss..."

She made a show of rolling her eyes in a way Mercy might remember that one of her clients did; one of the things that had once contributed to Iayn's demon-like look was now a weapon decoration. So apparently now slavers were serial killers, keeping trophies and all, except now that The Ripper's would-have-been victim was back and kicking. Well, getting her ass kicked, more like.

"...leave water under the bridge. A sssale sshould not mean anything after all this time."

A huffy laugh now, one ha. "Then a scalping shouldn't mean anything either." Iayn walked past Mercy with her hands up at chest height, then extended one towards the trandoshan as she passed the other woman by. "Give me my burr and we start over."

A staring match ensued but, with a hiss of a sigh, he reached blindly over his shoulder, pulled the chain tassel from his staff, and all but threw it into Iayn's outstretched palm.

She gave an approving click of her tongue before beginning to retrace her steps backwards, careful not to collide with Mercy's wall of a being. "See you around, Krresh."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay was possibly careful about not colliding with Mercy, but Mercy was most definitely not as careful in return.

In a different way one might expect however from the previous engagement.

As the lizard skittered (walked but Mercy was still annoyed) Mercy came around and wrapped a meaty muscular arm around Iayn's shoulders, pulling her in closer against her. Almost as if they were sharing a secret. "Oh, come now, babe." Mercy would mutter conspiratorially. "Ya can't tell me ya gon' leave 'im alive after he worked ya as a slave."

Her grip squeezed around the set of shoulders.

As if Mercy was giving a hug.

"Must really kark ya up to see 'im after alllll this time." The get-up made more sense to her now. "Ya thought ya was ready for that little confrontation, but perhaps you found yourself disappointed with... yourself?"

A little shrug continued there as if Mercy hadn't just insulted her in a roundabout way.

"It ain't for everyone... the things we do. But... maybe I can teach ya a thing or two. Get ya ready for next time... cus' if ya really think he won't try an' put a collar on ya again... well, ya dumber than ya look like, sweetling."

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

At first, Iayn tried to pull away.

Ew! Get off me!

Then she melted into Mercy's semi-embrace.

Yeah. Yeah!

Her opponent mere moments ago, Iayn was now ready to make her an ally. Even more, a mentor. It was a wonder the twin's wasn't sore from the emotional gymnastics of it all. Maybe she would be tomorrow.

"Collar smaller." Iayn leaned back into Mercy now, really making herself comfortable. She even rose her free hand to grasp partway around Mercy's forearm, all the while watching Krresh's retreat. "The only thing of the sort I'm ever wearing is a snakeskin choker."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

Mercy felt the immediate reflex to push her away.

She didn't hold this against Iayn.

It was only wise to be afraid of someone who had been kicking her ass just a few minutes ago. This was, of course, her own interpretation of the events which weren't always exactly accurate. Either way, the crowd saw that the show seemed to be over. With some grumbling they either left or got back to watching the pit fight.

Quite some disappointment there, but Mercy didn't give much of a chit.

She absently squeezed Iayn's shoulder as she subtly began to guide her away from the fight. "Chokers are hot." Mercy declared uncaringly as the crowd parted for her without any prompt from her.

They had seen the way she moved.

"Slave collars..." A lazy handwaggle there. "Less so, unless it's a kink. Anyway- buy me a drink and I will see what I can do for ya." Then a smirk. "Well, I can do a lot for ya... but let's see how much I care doing, yah?" That was Mercy for you. Honest to fault. You really knew what you had with her. You might not like it or love it... but there was little to no ambiguity.

That counted for something, didn't it?

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

Iayn wrinkled her nose at the second mention of slave collars today. "Yeah," she muttered low, as not to advertise her experience, "well, lemme tell you first-hand, some sleemos like it like that."

She didn't feel the least bit bad saying it. As far as she was concerned, former slaves had all the leeway in the galaxy to kink shame.

"Sure. Just make the order." As she and Mercy slipped near the bar, Iayn made a mental note to thank her lucky stars when she could see them alight in the night sky that she had accepted Malcoma's offer of spending money. Truth be told, she had almost said 'no', opting to go it alone from the very outset of this whole vigilante venture, but in the end Damris had convinced her to leave their care with moderately lined pockets at the very, very least.

Which wasn't not much at all. The headmistress had always done well for herself and what money she couldn't think of a way to flaunt for herself she spent on the prosperity of her girls.

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

"Mm, bet lizardface is one of 'em."

Oh, yes, the rude one wasn't forgotten or forgiven.

Not about the slavery thing. Frankly speaking Mercy didn't care about that. In fact, if anything, the roach was probably doing a worthwhile public service with his work. It was a walking advertisement for the Sith way. Break your chains and become stronger, or stay enslaved and be weak. Iayn seemed to have taken the former path.

Except she didn't kill her former master, which was odd to Mercy.

"Coruscanti Sunrise, a bowl of peanuts and yar Stew Special." Which... well, she had said drinks, nothing about food. But somehow Mercy didn't seem like someone who cared about that.

"So, if yar not here to exact revenge on those who wronged ya in the past... what is it yar exactly doing here, babe?"

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

Iayn didn't say anything about the addition of food. She just ordered a glass of water for herself and paid the shared tab.

"Bold of you to assume I'm not," she replied as she set on a bar stool next to Mercy. "Maybe you have a different outlook, the way you go picking fights, but there are more ways to extract revenge than extracting a liter or two of blood." She shrugged. "I'm still a gladiator at heart, but not being kept under lock and key has mellowed me out. If I don't have to kill someone, even the beings who have been the worst to me, I'm not going to."

She was about to ask, you know?, but an instinct sitting heavy in her gut told her that Mercy did not know, so, instead, she took to sipping on her water.

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

"If there is one thing I am known for it's being bold." Mercy murmured smugly as she accepted her glass and took a big gulp. Nothing about savoring the taste with little sips, no. Everything Mercy did was big, bold, brash even. One the gulp was filled away she pulled the bowl with stew towards her and began to dig in.

This.

Well, Mercy really showcased just how much food you needed to keep her physique going, because the woman was really devouring that meal. With no worry, no concern about how it might look like.

"Sure, you can leave all the blood in their body, even if that's less satisfying. But it usually does mean the piece o' chit be dead in the end, darling, so they can't walk around plotting against ya later." It was unclear to Mercy if Iayn was just naïve or something else was going on there. Perhaps she wasn't the best equipped to figure it out later.

"So yar sayin' ya here for revenge without liters of blood. What does that look like, hm?"

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

Ravenous eating was nothing to gawk at to her. Throughout her time living under this very coliseum, she had gobbled down many grueling meals in between matches or trainings or before another slave could take it from her.

"I can deal with the living," was her indifferent response to Mercy's half-warning about the potential dangers of being merciful. Ironic.

Then, she began fidgeting with her burr in the hand resting in her lap. "It looks like dealing with the living," she repeated with targeted annunciation. "Only one thing is worth more to Krresh than his blood." She eyed the robotic barkeep before looking back at Mercy. "If you catch my left hook."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

"Oh, I caught yar left hook, alright." Absently into her bowl.

If Mercy recognized what Iayn was trying to share with her it was ambiguous.

The big woman seemed to have a difficult time with subtle words or perhaps it was more accurate to say her mind was resistant to them. She preferred things crisp and clear. To the point. Say what you want or don't say chit at all. Once the bowl was empty Mercy sighed with satisfaction and leaned back into her seat, letting the glass of alcohol swirl in her hand.

"Yar young." So was Mercy, but damn if Iayn didn't vibe younger to her. "Ya think dis galaxy cares about ya morals. 'Bout being restrained and not overreacting."

Mercy shrugged as she took another big gulp from her glass.

"Take it from me, sweetcheeks, nobody gives a kriff. Yar more liable to get shivved when ya ain't looking for that necklace ya took from him."

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

"I do."

Malcoma did. Damris did. Mikka did. Iayn would sooner off herself than let the gross slaving world take away her autonomy and power all over again.

She stopped playing with her burr and looked down at it. "Maybe," she agreed, "but I don't get why anyone but me would want an Iayn Dystraay memento." Except her herself, of course, but she was getting into collecting for a less macabre hunting trophy vibe: to put herself back together. "I left this place disgraced. I didn't think it'd be eager to remember me, let alone trade pieces of me around."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

"Come now, sweetcheeks, it be about control."

And there she poked Iayn in the shoulder, before brushing her hand lazily around and towards the necklace that had been the lizard's. "This is a sign that he owned ya. Enough to take away yar horns an' to carry 'em forward for years to come."

It was a delicious reminder in that sense.

Mercy might have done something similar had she been in the slaver's boots.

Thankfully (or perhaps mercifully) she was a different creature altogether. Slaving... just didn't appeal to her. It was such an ordeal to properly break a slave in and keep them obedient. There were better options for that kind of thing. "Anyway, Iayn Dystraay, you go by Iayn or Dystraay? Unless ya want me to keep calling ya sweetcheeks..."

And her eyes slowly drew down to take her all in.

"Which I might anyway, at da."

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

She was probably right. Still, it seemed somewhat strange that the reminder of a gladiator who had been beaten so badly, against all odds, would have been something so highly prized.

"Iayn," she offered, all too happy to distract herself from that line of thought. Or sweetcheeks, that was at least preferable to her over The Demoness. Maybe when she got all her horns back, if that was even possible, she'd take back up the moniker. "That's me. And you?"

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

"Iayn..."

Mercy rolled her shoulders and took another gulp from her drink. It was three-fourths gone now after only three gulps. But that was the way Mercy rolled, so you couldn't be too surprised by it.

"Pretty name, sweetcheeks."

Then a shrug as she glanced over to her.

"Mercy. I'd say "Jus' Mercy", but ain't anything just about me." Mercy smirked there as she leaned on her elbow to really take Iayn in. "You got yar horns back... for now. And made ya presence known. What's yar next step on the grand Iayn's tour of revenge?"

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

”Mercy,” she repeated. “That’s a stage name if I‘ve ever heard one.”

She held up the burr necklace a bit. “Oh, no, I’m not done yet. This is only one. I should know—they used to all be—” a few fingers tapped at her forehead, covered in a thick, black fringe of hair, “—up here.” Her hand lowered back into her lap. “I gotta have the set.”

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Iayn Dystraay

A slow hum there, grinning.

"A gladiator name." Mercy elaborated there with obvious relish. "It is quite ironic, because I usually have none." Which... was rather obvious. The eldritch arm, the amber eyes peeking through the sunglasses, the meaty muscles. Nothing about Mercy suggested anything merciful. It was no wonder she had picked that name for herself.

Head tilts there.

"The set? After this long a time? Darling, ya will be looking for ever." The tone was mildly surprised... but at the same time? It wasn't judgmental, if anything there seemed to be a hint of appreciation.

"Where ya gonna start then, hm? Tell me."

 

[Iayn Dystraay]

Iayn was going to say all of what they both were thinking about what was in a name, but she didn't really feel like getting her shoulders dislocated tonight.

"Ah, c'mon, Mercy," she began with a tone dangling dangerously on familiar. This wasn't the girl Malcoma had raised...or, rather, not the girl Malcoma thought she had raised. "Three years ain't nothin' in this world. Everyone who passes through's got one thing in common. The mind of a banta. They don't forget. I know I sure haven't."

All her fiddling clicked apart the chain's magnetic clasp. She rose her hands, slithered her fingers underneath her hair, and secured the charm around her neck.

Horns in the heart, not on the head--how about that?

Then, she answered, "My old digs." And stomped her foot as if to say, Under there. She slid the appropriate number of credits onto the bar top.

Mercy