Private Tire Iron

[Capris Halcyon]

Capris first spotted him half-way down a glass of Saraveen brandy.

She'd been slack-boned against the bar top of some quaint little speakeasy for the better half of an hour, folded--upper body supported by a single elbow, and mind passively stupid. Tacked on the wall were holoscreens, most broadcasting podrace highlights that gave her eyes something to glaze over. But suddenly, out of the fold, there was something new. Hosted by some by a man with a moustache and some stunningly beautiful zeltron that made her briefly suicidal. Those self-esteem issues quickly mended themselves upon seeing another face.

"Heh." She hiccuped, "That looks like my boyfriend."

The girl attempted to straighten out a finger to point at the pixelated blur of beauty and brawn, but it didn't quite carry. The bartender, expertly interpreting her attempt, passed a look to the screen, read the clear bold "Son of the Sword" typography running under the image of scarred twenty something, and peered down with skeptical pity.

"Sure hun."

Capris giggled, too drunk and too absorbed to find any nuance in the words. "He's really nice. Probably the nicest." It was said right as he sicced twin vorksnrs on his opponent. "Cute little accent too." she continued to babble, tracing a finger around the coaster set for her drink. "And face."

The last time she'd seen it had been with an overcast of tragedy and heartache. That made her sad, and with nowhere to place that emotion, she looked at the screen instead. He wasn't happy necessarily, but…determined and gorgeously lit by whatever optics they had going on.

"That's really brave of him." She murmured with sudden severity, another hiccup riding the tail.

The girl went corpse-silent for one long uninterrupted minute, staring with enough tragic yearning to guarantee another sale of alcohol.

It was then a miraculous case of sobriety hit her like a rancor.

"Wait– what the fuc-"

-------​

Never again let it be said she suffered from commitment issues.

The arena was rank. An obvious thing to expect, but it had been enough time since Capris stepped foot in one for the nose-blindness to wear off. Now everything felt new, and vibrant, and scandalizing.

Not too scandalizing though, she did use to kidnap people for a living.

It was painless enough gaining entry. The scars, the tattoos, the general bad vibes– She looked the type that would pay to see someone get the shit beat out of them, so there was no hold up there. Getting to back of house was a bit more of an effort, but all things are possible through a little faith,

And generous assistance from the Force.

So Capris walked with awful posture, a stolen ID badge, and a building migraine as she considered the place.

Why the hell was Kyric of all people here. Wasn't this supposed to be her thing? Bloodied fists and gapped teeth, and… stupidity? Knowing him he had some dastardly noble reason in his backpocket that would floor her, and humble her, and have her roll eyes all in the same breath. Possession fluttered to life in her and suddenly, despite the knowledge Kyric had survived far worse, she wanted him far, far away from this cesspit. Because here he was surrounded by people who looked and acted and thought exactly like her. And knowing herself as astutely as she did, that was a very bad position to be in.

Especially when it came to this Mercy character.

Sure, she might've rooted for her in the first round or two, interspersed between obsessive scrolling through rank sheets, statistics, and battle predictions. But in her paper thin defense, Mercy was sort of aspirational. Or at least in terms of whatever dead ambitions Capris had for herself a couple sum years ago. Some strong, powerful, impossible-to-feth-with image that Capris slowly felt guilty for falling victim to when all the Sith hogwash was added atop.

But now the red-head was slated to fight Kyric and, love and faith aside, Capris was not wholly comfortable with the idea. Maybe it wasn't some grand romantic gesture to go break in the knee cap of his final opponent (Not that Capris had decided that would her course of action) but she did feel pushed to do something.

What exactly? Have a little cat fight? Frown and wag a finger? Capris would get her shit decked by this woman, if not by the roving fans and attendants set between.

But caution was something she frequently tossed to the wind. So she grabbed a towel stack from a passing attendant, ignored their protest, and shoved open a swinging door with her shoulder.

"Uh, can I interest anyone in some towels?" She piped up. "They're heated!"

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Capris Halcyon

It was starting to become a habit for people to invade her personal locker space after each round.

Frankly it was starting to become exhaust- who was Mercy kidding, she absolutely adored the attention. This time around Mercy was healing slowly, her fight with Arris Windrun had taken a lot out of her. Extremely satisfying. It was the first round in the tournament where Mercy truly felt like she had been allowed to enjoy herself and the bloodshed.

She'd have to send the poor cyborg some champagne. Once she had installed new prosthetics for arms anyway, after Mercy had ripped at least one of them off of her and then received the second one as a trophy with a sword inside of it.

"Uh, can I interest anyone in some towels?" She piped up. "They're heated!"

Well, that was new.

"Don't tell me they have towel girls in this place." Mercy joked as she looked up from her musings. Amber eyes slowly running up and down, taking the new figure in with some sort of appreciation.

"What can I do for you, darling, and don't say 'take a towel'. I wasn't born yesterday."

The fact that nobody had come around with towels (heated even, such luxury) in any of the previous rounds was a major tip-off.

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Mercy was pretty much everything Capris imagined her to be. Huge, handsome, and hard muscle with a certain floodlight intensity that Capris almost had to squint against. The way her eyes roved over paired with a likely condescending "darling" gave the girl's cheeks a flush of red that definitely didn't belong there.

"- and don't say 'take a towel'. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Ok." Capris agreed, "I won't"

With a painfully anti-climatic thud, she let the towels fall limp to the ground and took a measured step over them, "They weren't heated anyway. " A shrug,"Promise I'm usually better at bull-chiting but uh-"She shook her head mid-statement, brow bouncing in some dismissive internal tick, "I didn't have the time to concoct a better or even good way of going about this so I'll just come out and say it."

Brown eyes met amber, knowing full well how this would go.

"Lose the next round. Let Kyric win."

She considered a moment.

"Please."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Capris Halcyon

Mercy couldn't just dismiss her with a laugh after that request. Not after she made it so earnestly and straightforward. It was an approach marked with such ballsyness that Mercy couldn't help but respect it.

A touch anyway.

"Mmm, and why would I do that, darling?" Mercy leaned in there a touch more. Elbows coming to rest on her knees, watching her closely. "Who is this little Jedi boy to you anyway?" Lips licked there as she considered it. "A friend? A brother..." She didn't say more than that, but her eyes were burning triumphantly and Capris would know.

If Mercy hadn't already sussed it out, she at least suspected it.

She wondered what this Capris would give in return for her acceptance. The curiosity was enough that she didn't just dismiss it out of hand.

 

[Capris Halcyon]

She was surprisingly…responsive. Capris had more or less prepared to be laughed out of the room, to which she'd have pulled some suicidal manuevar or another that probably would've ended in Mercy gloating over her dead body the next round.

"He's–" She started, hinging on some note of uncertainty. What could she possibly say that didn't position her for failure? Capris lagged then sighed. Well, Mercy seemed to respond to honesty. "I care about him " A muscle in the jaw pulsed, feeling scrutiny at every word, "Enough to admit he doesn't belong here."

A glance to herself than Mercy, as if providing further evidence to what did belong. Scum and villany. Those who relished in bloodsport or at least tolerated it enough when the credits flowed. "I don't know what he's doing here, what he's trying to prove. Frankly he's too good for this chit." And for me, "I just-"

It was then she caught sight of the arm.

"Did you do those yourself?" It was said with a bit of expectation (hoping the answer was no), as if a morsel of opportunity had fallen at her feet. Shirking off the weight of her jacket revealed similarly imbued symbols running up the length of her arm and contours of her neck. Runes, humming dark energy and the promise of violence. Of power. If she couldn't appeal to whatever durasteel shell of a heart Mercy had, maybe proof of some materialistic gain could sway it.

She'd only ever imbued herself and Kyric with runes, but hell, now seemed like the perfect time to take on new clients.

Ashla willing.

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Capris Halcyon

Brows raised up there again as Capris said that Kyric didn't belong here. The Sith in front of her didn't necessarily disagree, what a staunch Paragon of the Light was doing here in the mud with them was beyond her. It didn't really dissuade her from the fight however. In fact, it only made her more eager to get to it.

Finally fighting a Forcer, that would be at least somewhat exciting.

"If he doesn't belong here, why are you in my locker room and not his?" Mercy pointed out bemused. "Knock him out, put a bag over his head and carry him off like a good lass."

Mercy finally got up, slowly, like a tectonic plate shifting under the crust.

Until she was looking down at the lover of a Jedi. "Mm, in a way." Mercy said with a chuckle as she extended her eldritch hand, tendrils slowly uncoiling as her hand came undone and reached out towards Capris. Almost like a lover's caress, except she knew just how much violence these things were capable of.

"The first sigils were tattooed on my hide by Skeevi Merrill , my cyberdoc." Unless she backed away, those tendrils would slowly run across the runes that Carpis had along her arm and neck. They were warm to the touch, metallic almost in texture. "Along the way this thing tried to take control of me in one of the previous rounds... I broke its will instead and made it serve me."

That wasn't... exactly how it had gone, but Mercy was keenly aware of the power of a good story.

"You have pretty things on your skin-" Then Mercy realized she didn't even know her name. "You know my name... it would be a pity if I never found out yours, wouldn't it?"

 

[Capris Halcyon]

She had a point somewhere in there. Capris knew it. Any potential eavesdroppers wouldn't have any issue sniffing it out: the bolded and underlined question mark of why she was in Mercy's locker room instead of Kyric's. Of why didn't she just knock him out?

"Tried that once" She huffed a laugh, something burnt and tinged with history, "Actually twice, now that I'm thinking about it."

Somehow, despite this clearly not moving in her favor, it was so much easier to face Mercy. Impersonal. Cold. No overwhelming colors of emotion stapled to her head like horse blinders. With Kyric... she'd probably stutter out a million apologies before she even got to her point.

And then the red head's eldritch arm went and caressed her, and all thoughts of Kyric were temporarily banished in favor of red hot revulsion. Capris snapped a hand up as the tendrils twirled harmlessly against her runes, skin hyper-aware of their movement like rhythmic centipede legs. She made space quickly, like a dog trying to keep itself from biting its collar.

Mercy said something about control, something about will, something about pretty things. Capris just glowered.

A long moment of silence was ended in a sigh, her brow stitched in discernment. This would probably be a mistake, but something gave Capris the impression Mercy would smell her bullchit if she gave any other answer. "It's Capris." Her jaw was set, body tense as if preparing to fend off another unwelcomed touch, "I wouldn't get comfort with it. I really don't intend to ever interact with you again after this."

Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Capris Halcyon

But Mercy didn't close the distance when Capris stepped back, instead she sat right back down, all casual.

Glancing up at her with a chuckle.

"Feth me, you are infatuated with that boy, aren't you?" She shook her head there, a bit saddened. "Why oh why women insist on falling head over heels and losing themselves is beyond me." It was always the same story. Take a strong and formidable soul, then let them lose track of their own ambitions in favor of supporting someone else's.

Mercy had picked a different path. The one where power was hers and only hers. Some might say it was lonely, sad in its own way, but Mercy wouldn't have it any other way.

She smirked as Halcyon gave her name and then declared they would never talk again.

"Oh, somehow I doubt it. I think you will seek me out again after the tournament." She leaned in there, elbows on her knees. "I might win, I might lose, I dunno. But I am going to hurt your boy, Capris. I am going to tear him in half, or at least try to. By the time we are done, he might win, but you won't be able to recognize him anymore."

Teeth flashed white as the smirk deepened, trying to goad her clearly.

"Unless you stop me right now. You could, I am tired from my last bout, still healing. If there is any moment to put a stop to me it is right now... to save your pretty little boy."

But while Mercy was a Sith, this wasn't a battlefield. This was a legal tournament which all the opponents had agreed to. If Capris moved against Mercy now, even if she won, she would have crossed a line.

Some lines were worth crossing though... to save the person you loved, no?

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Yeah.. well, when she phrased it like that...

Capris made the mature decision not to defend herself. For some reason or the other, going into immense detail of how, no, she wasn't some obsessive psycho-stalker, but actually just a backstabbing monster who handed Kyric over to his worst enemy and abandoned him for dead on more than one occasion felt...like a bad idea. Mercy already had more than enough ammunition as is, and all that Capris could do was squirm under the weight of it.

Thankfully though the threats started coming in and gave her something more digestible to answer.

"Do you ever shut up." Despite knowing damn well Mercy was egging her on, Caris couldn't fight the snarl. It felt natural, the way it neatly packed in all the disgust and fledging hate in her body into one focal point. Despite her primary motivation being love and whatever gushy chit she'd yet to successfully articulate, Capris was still more rabid dog at times than human.

Ah fuck it.

Capris's fist came at her like a dog bite, aimed at the chin. The runes along her forearm glimmered in reinforcement as the hit swung. Something more manifest as a single outburst of frustration rather than genuine plan of attack.

Mercy