Ask Whenever you gamble, my friend, eventually you'll lose.

[Linwood Foster]

Luxury quarter, Airtight base.
Hoth Asteroid Field
Co-ordintes: K-18
​

A formerly secret base within the field, drilled deep into the nickel-iron core of one of the larger of the belt's asteroids. 'Airtight' base was once the haven of pirates, during the Galactic Civil war. Over a century had passed and this was now a centre for mining activity, more that it served all the mining bases. A place to drink, trade and relax. Compact, sturdy and dense with visitors. There was no luxury of the Cloud City, and no view of the stars they had travelled. It had been a long run to this corner of the galaxy, and they needed some rest and a bit of pleasant surroundings. He'd taken to their dice games and had floated a little warchest, and now he returned to their both. She'd been watching everyone.

She'd always watched him, and watched everyone. Didn't even take off the visored helmet when in public, kriff, even when they were alone on long hyperspace jumps she didn't. The Maidne's Avarice was a lonely place sometimes, just the two of them speeding through space. Long periods of waiting, punctuated by random kriffing bouts of combat; short as they were. Lessons in defence, since they had met she'd taken the stance that he needed looking after. He was taller, he could fly and shoot. But oh no, he didn't know the Way. He didn't match up to her kriffing standards, but he was learning.

He looked over to his shipmate, placing his winnings on the table, looking down at the stacks of local Bespin and glittering old school credits. He looked up at her t-shaped visor. couldn't see her face. Her helmet was her face, her eyes the horizontal slit. He leaned back, dug his fingernails into his scalp and scratched. "Ugh, it almost seems too easy! Just roll the dice and know when to leave..." his finger intertwined behind his head, he set a confident smile. "... having fun?"

@Hirojani Andro

 

[Hirojani Andro]

True to form Hirojani Andro sat quietly in a booth watching the packed bar space. Despite the helmet, despite the two meters of heavily built Mandalorian beneath it, Hiro often went somewhat unnoticed, even in a place as cramped as this was. It was probably something about the way that she sat. When you noticed her you could almost swear that, even sitting down, she seemed to be on the prowl. Like some kind of relaxing Nexu, coiled on the other side of a clearing. If you didn't already have its attention, perhaps just let it alone. She had been watching. Both bar and her one time savoir and companion. She had to admit, he was an okay gambler. Far too many people that try to clear their overhead with games of chance failed. Normally through greed or stupidity. But Linwood definitely knew when to stop. He didn't always win, but he rarely lost significant amounts. He'd just shrug in a resigned manner, stating it wasn't his night. As he approached she clocked some eyes following him from the game table. She checked hips and jackets. Most were carrying. Few were hiding it. But they didn't look that stupid and as was said, Linwood knew when to stop, he hadn't won enough to elicit a fight, or at least no one sane should come for him over it. Hiro allowed a finger to play over the pommel of the massive striped vibroblade on her thigh as Linwood sat opposite her.

She replied in her typically reserved way. "Food's alright" She cocked her Durasteel wrapped head slightly to one side, indicating a cleaned plate and drinking cup. "But it's thick," another head nod and a pointed gloved finger indicating the two nearest exits were both barred by throngs of slowly shuffling patrons, "and desperate." A hand waved back in the direction the tall, but not as tall as he thought he was, human wandered from, all smiles and chits, towards the gaming table but more to the sour collection of seedier looking patrons on the far side of it. "It's not great in here." She tucked a leg under her on the bench she was sat on, tensed ready to lift her, it was something of a habit. "How'd ya do?" the helmet bobbed towards Linwood's winnings, a note of curiosity in her tone.
@Linwood Foster

 

[Linwood Foster]

"Is it? I haven't had any yet?" he stretched out an arm to hail one of the serving girls. "Better thick than thin... well it would be it the Way wasn't in the way." he signalled to her helmet, wondering how had she eaten. As she signalled to his winnings, his smile broadened and his teeth gleamed through. He nodded, slow at first, and then getting quicker as he reviewed his stacks of chips. “Some Tibanna tokens for Bespin, and some ol’ Imperial credits. All means the same out here, so enough to fill the food stores with something fresh, maybe get something special. A bottle of something to replace that we drained a couple of weeks before Cloud City and the Baroness?” his eagerness peaked at the mention of getting alcohol, the rot-gut they had consumed burned and got you drunk, but he wanted something you could maybe mix or sip with some void ice. He looked up from his bounty and glanced at her helmet. So impassable, what was she thinking?

Fortunately the staff member arrived, the Zygerrian woman practically purred the request for his order, and Linwood looked up to her with a smile. “I’ll have some of what my friend here ordered with whatever counts as bread, as hot as you can bring it.” He offered payment from the Tibanna tokens as payment, a little splash here or there could reveal all sorts, and as he watched her chassé off he thought how wonderful it was to be out and abroad in the galaxy with a ship, some coin and a good blaster or in the case of Hirojani, two, at your side.

@Hirojani Andro

 

[Hirojani Andro]

Hirojani was quiet as the server walked away. She had closed her eyes to briefly feel the flow of the room. One deep breath, two, three. Slower each time. Until she felt her mind grow blank and the patterns and swirls begin to form around her. By now Linwood was more than used to her sometimes limited responses and her occasional walls of silence. It took a minute or two to fully feel out the sheer number of people in the bar. The packed nature of the room giving little more than a fleeting glimpse into each person. For the most part it seemed the world around they wasn't really paying them much attention. The focus from the gambling tables towards Linwood quickly died down and for now they were effectively alone in this densely crowded room. By the time she tuned her senses back to the moment Linwood was already happily making his way through a Bivoli Tempari with a Polystarch side-loaf. A humble but perfectly passable meal.

"Spend how you like." She said abruptly. "You're up anyway, long as this deal goes through." Her mind was on the several barrels of Tibanna gas they'd been asked to deliver from Bespin. Frankly she was concerned. She didn't know the first thing about the gas except how to fill a blaster reservoir. But she wasn't concerned for any real reason. She'd never admit it but she was easily frustrated by things she didn't understand and that frustration often manifested as distrust. It was a long-standing attitude she had towards the majority of technology. "Have you heard from the target?" She quizzed, hoping for a quick end to this job and maybe a trek back through Cloud City. She'd loved the buttressed walkways and tiered circles. Looked like a real fun place to hunt, if she could find some prey in, what on the surface, appeared to be a squeaky clean place .

@Linwood Foster

 

[Linwood Foster]

Linwood shook his head and looked to his partner. "They are client, employee... we are not hunting anything." His accent strained against that last word, almost creating a double 'e' in 'aneething'. He looked around the bar, and scooped his winnings into a pocket. "That is also not main worry. You need to focus less on previous job and more on the patrons of the bar." He held up his index and middle finger to her and then lowered the middle. “Two things, people may want our money and equally…” he raised his second finger again. “... I feel that it will not be long until they call us. So I am going to finish meat broth, then we will leave and get payment. Unless you had a reason to stay?”

Wiping the last husk of bread around his bowl, he raised an eyebrow to see how she reacted to his taunts. Her lessons had told him to be prepared, so his free hand was on the table to intercept a blow to his face.

@Hirojani Andro

 

[Hirojani Andro]

Hiro placed one hand on the table and tensed for a moment against the firm durasteel surface. They were not in immediate danger. Linwood hadn't made anything like enough and partly thanks to the press of bodies in the bar they hadn't drawn any serious attention. He was baiting her. He resented her attempts to train him over the years, to try and make sure he wouldn't need her to be there in case something really bad went down. Hiro knew all to well that there are fights you can't win, but there are fewer when you are better trained. She'd leave it for now, it'd draw too many looks. Besides, when she saw him bracing she knew he was expecting retaliation and the training wouldn't work if he saw it coming. Later, he would pay. Under her helmet Hiro invisibly smiled to herself.

After a moment of pressure, she simply shrugged. "There aren't any good pucks." She stood, lifting with the leg she'd coiled under her, she rose up in one smooth motion. The meeting wouldn't happen here. They'd want them down in one of the hanger pods so they could make an easy exchange. On the way here she'd spotted a disused ring that had all the hallmarks of a fighting pit. She decided that maybe she could do something interesting while they waited. Looking at her seated comrade mopping up the last of his food she decided to make her own little cash bonus. "We're safe, I'm bored. I'm gonna go have a fight." With that she strode away from the table and started to push through the cluster of people between them and the door. After a few irritatingly difficult steps she turned and called back to Linwood, "Wanna watch?"

@Linwood Foster

 

[Linwood Foster]

He recoiled at her statement that she was going to fight, his free hand rising and then halting as she moves away. At her invitation, he pushed the bowl away and stood up. “Of course, Mandolorian. I will follow you, look around, maybe place a bet; but I will not be involved. That is not negotiable.” He moved up, following in her wake of confused patrons out into the corridor.

It was considerably quiet, compared to the cramped bar. Sure there were some people moving to and from it, but only in small groups; and there was plenty of space in this industrial concourse. Then of course, she was nowhere to be seen. He’d maybe lost her for a second or two. With that, his hand went to his blaster, which wasn’t there. Of course, she’d learned about his favouring the stun setting and complained about the low-velocity of that shot type.

Now his mind was reeling, what had he done? Why was she angry at him? Had she seen his reactions at the table? He saw that there was a turnoff from the concourse closeby. He knew she favoured arches, but could have gone that way an actual fight. So he moved along the far side of the corridor to peak around the corner, as she had instructed him.

@Hirojani Andro

 

[Hirojani Andro]

Hiro watched Linwood panic as he reached for his missing blaster. It was a swift response. She saw him slow his panic and trace her likely route. Good. A concealed smile played across her lips as he stepped to cover to carefully view the way ahead, keeping his gaze split so he could both search for her path and to keep maximum peripheral vision to detect an ambush. The year or so she'd spent training him was really starting to show its effects, even if he couldn't see it himself. Both of Hiro's mothers had had very different teaching methods. It was time, she realised, for some positive feedback. Tsuki had been a sink or swim teacher, showing Hiro something once and then providing an opportunity to test the skill in the field, live and dangerous. Noe had been about theory before practice, learning the concept to the point of recital meant that when you come to implement you have a better grasp of your actions and don't need to rely on speed or luck. Her mothers had had arguments about it. Hiro had come to realise that a better method would incorporate elements of both approaches. It was time, she realised, for some positive feedback.

Hiro slunk down from her vantage point atop a lighting unit. Using the natural shadows cast by the corners of the building's architecture she concealed her decent. Touching down with scarcely more than a soft pad she made her way up behind Linwood. Gently she pressed the barrel of his blaster into his hip. "You've made progress. That was much better. Remember, look up, keep your holster latched when you have time to draw." She spun the pistol in her hand, and gave it to him grip first. "Well done." She straitened and turned past the corner. "There's a pit at the hangars, you can bet there." She walked past him and through the archway that lead to the lower decks of the station.

If anything the decks got less and less busy the closer they got to the hangar. It was clearly peak entertainment time on the asteroid. people were already in their chosen venue or within their domiciles. No body seemed to be doing much of anything else. At the hangar the halls were empty. Only Hiro and Linwood were around. on the far side of the hanger you could hear the rousing cheers and shouts that were typical of a spacer fighting pit. In this moment Hiro considered voicing her concerns. Linwood very much believed the job was over. He was already calculating his budget with they pay they stood to make. But the job isn't finished until your paid, gone and no-one is coming after you. Her moment of thought passed. She'd have to leave it up to fate and instead of waiting about and getting antsy, she was going to beat the snot out of some poor unsuspecting dock hand that fancied themselves flashy with their fists. Hiro approached the hangar come fighting pit with a stride full of purposed and not a small hint of excitement.

@Linwood Foster

 

[Linwood Foster]

The feeling of his own weapons emitter housing was one that she enjoyed forcing upon him, he could feel it. His body froze, and his ears ached for her speech. Then, modulated by the helmet, her voice rang out. Not in the rigorous drill of an instructor. There was care, almost affection in amongst the static. He blinked, and turned to witness her pistol trick. Blinking from the compliments, it was all he could do to remember to take the sentimental side arm. His hands deftly returned it to his holster and followed her instructions to the letter; catch and all.

He followed behind her side and was brought back with the acknowledgement of his requirements from her fighting. He could double, or maybe treble his winnings on her. Let’s say this pit has a champion or ol’ soak. Someone that keeps knocking the local punks on their ass. They won’t stand up to her schooled methods of combat.

A smile broke out as he felt the weight of his chips knock against him, from within his jacket pocket. The hangar was dingy and there was a crowd. His pace extended, catching up and overcoming her lead, heading straight to the action. He knew his part in this play, establish the players. She would want a challenge, honour and competency. He saw the muscles on a grizzled miner. He bore some hits, but the others were badly bruised. He heard a booky yelling odds. This guy was leading the ring, and they could double. “Gentlemen, please, I’d like to place a bet on my friend against that man.” He pointed at the shock-white haired male.

@Hirojani Andro

 

[Hirojani Andro]

There is a certain series of sounds that tend to accompany someone with a helmet like Hiro's walking into a place like this. First a rippling quiet as a few people in the room recognise the T-visor and what it means and whisper to their knowledge to their compatriots. Once the hush has circulated there is a brief window of near silence as the assembly collectively holds their breath in anticipation, waiting for the first signal to whether it was good or bad that there was a Mandalorian here. When no violence immediately appeared then next thought that made the rounds was usually 'Man, I'd watch that fight' followed quickly with 'I'm about to see that fight' and subsequently, the room often erupts into a jubilant raucous. Cutting through the sudden clamour of the onlookers was the single bookies voice, cutting trough the pitch with a cascade of odds and figures and serious fists of all kinds of money started to exchange hands.

Hiro ignored this, she was mostly here to pass time, for the fight, credits were mostly a bonus. She laid down a chit or two as a challenger's ante and began to prepare for the fight. There were clearly several fighters eager to try their hand against a Mando but after few words between them and a few looks from the white-haired man that Linwood had singled out it was clear that he was who she would be fighting. Hiro studied him over. From his build to his reach, his scars to the cut of his clothes,his gait to his posture. She could tell that he was an experienced fighter, but from the look of his calloused knuckles and the slow steady paces he took he was something of a fist based brawler, big swings and planted feet, hitting hard but not fast. The thickness of his arms and the number of marred lines along them suggested he was more of a slugger, used to sticking in and waiting out a opponent, less likely to dodge hits but more likely to be able to take them. But as she started to analyse his face and the three distinct scars running from his brow along the side of his head Hiro came to another realisation. This was a man she knew. Or more specifically a man she'd met before.

Nearly ten years ago, when she was still actively working missions with her mother Tsuki, Hiro had met this man in an asteroid belt in the Lambada sector. Tsuki had approached him as a demolitions expert and wanted to acquire munitions. They had visited him several times over the course for a few weeks and he had even helped them on a job at one point.Eventually though Hiro and Tsuki's work took them to a different part of the Sector and neither of them saw him again, until now. The sheer arrogant cheek on Hiro's face would likely have put either Linwood or this man into a rage had they seen it but, once again, Hiro's ever present durasteel bucket kept her emotions a tightly gripped secret from all but the most empathic onlookers. As she folded her synthmesh trench coat, snapped off her gorget and took a casual stretch she decided to keep her opponent's identity to herself. One thing was for sure though, Cataros Karotene sure looked like he'd gotten old since Hiro last saw him.

@Linwood Foster @Cataros Karotene

 

[Cataros Karotene]

The fist came flying for his face and he met the wild haymaker with a broad smile that weathered the blow even as his head snapped to the side from the impact. His ears were ringing, his nose was bloody and his head was pounding. The whole dissorienting sensory overload between his opponent's taunts and the roar of the crowd was as familiar as breathing to him and he could feel himself stand taller as he focussed on his opponent.
Three straight fights and this punk thought he would try his luck, a fresh faced spacer of decent size, at laying him out and ruining his streak. It's what first set the grin on his face first and with a nod to the referee, he agreed to another match. Some folks in the crowd were jeering at him, others howling their approval with fists full of chits or grasping the bilge-water which passed for drinks and howling along with the mood of the crowd.
It wasn't long for the guy to enter the ring and come at him with a roar on his lips, leaving his guard open with a wild swing that he'd clearly hoped would lay the Big Cat down. The guy's eyes had bulged as the fist came up into his gut, all but lifting the man from his feet as his momentum carried him onto Cat's arm. The wheeze ejected from his lips like the air was ashamed to be inhaled by him, and that's when the Big Cat's grin reached ear to ear.
Doubled over, he let the guy recuperate, circling him as he theatrically shook off the hard impact on his knuckles, staring out into the crowd and hoping a decent enough fighter might come and take him on soon.

When his attention came back to the fighter, that's when the haymaker to the face had come.

Smacking hard into his face, as his head snapped to the side from the impact, he staggered several steps back, bracing an arm for the edge of the ring. His opponent didn't give him any time to recover, coming for him again and taking the front of his sweat-soaked vest in a stubby-fingered hand. The other was already bunched into a fist and came for his side, sending a jolt of pain through a rib that had already been stressed too many times that day. With one arm still free and facing towards the guy, Cat's fist launched out for a strike across the guy's chin and brought his hand round, taking hold of the wrist against his front and snapping it around with force the guy clearly wasn't expecting.
His hold broken, the guy howled in pain as the Big Cat readied his other fist.
The strikes came down hard, not as clean as some so-called "experts", but it did the job. Coming down hard into the guy's face again and again in quick succession, it sent him to the floor with a satisfying crunch of his nasal cartilage.
The howls stopped as soon as the first blow landed, but as he stopped they turned to gurgles as the blood started to run rivers from the man's nostrils. At that, a voice shouted out, calling the match.

It hadn't lasted long and that disappointed him, only a couple of blows exchanged and already jeers were coming up as some people realised their bets on the newcomer had failed.
That was him for the moment too, looking for an exit from the ring, he started towards it and paused. Another look down at the guy showed tears in his eyes from the shock of his broken nose. A sigh escaped, which in truth he wish it hadn't, and he reached down and hauled the guy up by the elbow. He was standing, and that was better than most who'd entered the ring. He'd shed a little blood, and that too was better than some others who'd entered the ring. Not against the Big Cat, mind, but still.

With the call of the referee urging him from the ring it was barely a second before two more contenders had leapt in, already claiming the next fight for themselves.
Moving through the bustle of bookies, working the crowd into a renewed frenzy and exchanging fistfuls of chits, one figure forced his way to his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders like an old friend.The toothless git was the one who'd had him stepped into the ring with him first, losing his last precious incisors to a knee to the face which still caused a dull ache in Cataros' dominant leg.
"Ya ain't so impressive if yer grinning before de match's over" Even without teeth the guy had a way of getting his words out.
"What can I say, I love the audience!" Cataros smiled to him, sensing the guy was looking for a rematch.
"Yer lucky dis audience liked to see a man get knocked down off his here pedestal" The git's face was a mess of scars and dirt, but the whites of his eyes looked at him with an accusatory glare.
"Are you looking for a fight?" Cataros' eyes narrowed a fraction but the smile remained.
"Maybe I am" A jerk of his head in the direction of the ring, eye contact locked "Next round?"
"If you want to see my ass on the floor that badly you coulda just got me hammered" Cataros shrugged the guy's arm off and pushed away from his invasion of personal space "I'm done for now"
"You ain't scared are you?" The goading tone was childish, and while he was a simple man, Cataros had the sense not to rise to it.
"Nah, not scared. Just a drink sounds good right about now" Cataros moved off, eliciting the muttered insults and further goading to follow. He didn't care. He just wanted to collect from his zygerrian bookmaker and then he'd see himself full and drunk, watching the rest of the matches that'd take place until they were cleared out.

He'd made a decent earning this time round. Several people clearly saw the odds changing as his winning streak went on, and he'd stuck with his usual arrangement with his regular bookie of his first bet's earning's being placed on him again for his next match. If any non-humanoids took to the fight he'd reckon his odds would've been very different. Twi'lek fighters were decent enough, but he hadn't needed to fight anything like a trandosian or a wookie. His streak would've been in danger had that happened, and all his earnings evaporate. It was a dangerous game, both for the sake of a man's next meal, and for his health. But luckily it was something Cataros knew how to do well.
The next fight went on for a while, as did the fight after that, but his eyes were already starting to wander. Luckily ol' toothless hadn't stirred up any trouble like some did, or drawn a weapon to take out his revenge. It happened far too often. Making a show of weapons was one thing. After all, everybody did it. But actual shots fired never ended well for anyone. With no sign of the guy, or any of his previous opponents, ol' toothy was coming to be the last thing on his mind as he sought out a decent opponent from the crowd.

That's when he noticed the crowd at the edge of the ring parting as a walking suit of armour approached. In the classical mandolorian fashion with the T and everything! Even the sound of the crowd started building at the impressive newcomer and Cataros found himself grinning once again. He'd definitely be a good fight.

Approaching the opposite side of the ring, he locked eyes with the mando's faceplate, watching as he placed down chits for entry and choosing to copy the deed.
Words didn't need exchanging between them. Cataros was fairly sure beneath that faceplate the newcomer had his eyes on him in return, they were perceptive like that.

 

[Linwood Foster]

The crowd began to rise behind him as his ticket was punched. Credit were handed over so the tall human rotated around the table to lean against the bulkhead wall as all the other gamblers swamped the bookies. Linwood began to watch the masses and saw the calmness of her motions. It was reassuring, she was always ready and always aware. But now she was on the hunt, he could see it in her gaze. She was honing in on the champion, focused and no doubt analysing things that he could never hope to see.

He shuffled aside to find some higher ground. A nearby cargo netting on a container gave him fairly swift access to a vantage point. Some other spacers had the same idea, but as he came to the edge, they stepped aside to give him a view of the ring. He ensured that his weapon was unlatched in his holster, but sat down on the corner; legs astride the point.

He surveyed the crowd that had now began to move as the contenders headed toward the ring. He nodded to her and waved the betting chit in the air. “Come on, we need a big win.”

@Hirojani Andro @Cataros Karotene

 

[Hirojani Andro]

With her gear securely stowed Hiro made her way through the cargo-netting and posts that were acting as the ring boundary. Up in the better lighting of the ring and the lack of coat and torso armour it became apparent to many of the onlookers for the first time that Hiro was a woman. It was easy to mistake with her height, build and the heavy helmet she constantly wore, it was often assumed she was a man. But under the bright spot lighting of the cargo bay and in the tight purple long sleeve she wore under the jacket, there were a couple of things that were impossible to notice. It always amused Hiro that this revelation would often be enough to encourage a sudden wave of last second bets and a re-jigging of the bookie's numbers. However, she though to herself, it might also jog her opponent's memory, he hadn't seemed to recognise her yet.

As the makeshift door to the ring-cage swung shut behind her it was finally just her and Cataros in the ring. She had intended to give him her undivided attention, but her training forced her to treat everyone in the room as a potential threat or target. Despite that she began to analyse Cataros more closely now that there was no-one between them. The first thing she spotted was the layer of sweat down the front of his top. This coupled with a few red marks and bruises on his cheeks and jaw told Hiro this wasn't Cataros's first fight or the day, probably not his second either. His responses could be slowed, he may have limited stamina in a drawn out or mobile fight. She felt certain if she kept on her toes he probably wouldn't chase her. She'd likely have to come to him. He'd be playing defensively, which also marked out his experience, only fools rush in blind, a mantra she often had to repeat to herself to suppress her more foolhardy nature.

She reckoned that her chances of striking the first blow would be very high. She'd have to make the most of it. The first bout will often decide an engagement, if she was tactical she could potentially win the fight with this first blow. She had come into this pit originally to blow of steam and maybe pulp a poor unsuspecting spacer, but she now had no such intentions. She was going to win, no doubt about that in her mind, but she didn't see a need to really hurt Cataros. The referee then drew them together, made sure they were ready and touched them back to their respective corners. After a moment of hesitation and a hush from the crowd, he signalled for the fight to start. Hiro came out of her corner like a purple streak. Tight guard, low stance, closing the distance between them in what seemed like only a step or two. As she got close she suddenly planted afoot a whipped out her lead hand. The strike was designed to look like a jab, to gauge the distance between them and to establish the pace. However as Cataros instinctively twitched back to lessen the blow, Hiro flicked out her fingers to strike out above Cataros's eye in the hopes of scoring a small cut in his eyebrow, the cut of cut that really bleeds.

@Cataros Karotene @Linwood Foster

 

[Cataros Karotene]

As this mandalorian stepped into the ring, unarmoured but for her helmet, her gender became more apparent and sure enough some woops came from the crowd for her radiating confidence and discipline. To Cataros it made no difference, she looked like she could hold her own and any decent fighter knew gender ultimately had no part to play in a combatant's skill. How she walked, she could no doubt challenge anyone here and come out on top, thought for Cataros, he had, and it was what made him the champion so far.
The grin stayed on his face, something some had considered his defining feature. The challenge would certainly be welcome. Furthermore he wasn't sure who would ultimately come out on top of this fight. He looked to his bookie with a shake of his head that they recognized with a nod in return. He wouldn't be betting on this fight. He wasn't stupid, and wouldn't risk breaking his streak and losing all his earnings in the possibility of a literal fell swoop.
"Cat! I called next match!" Ol' toothless was calling from the sideline, the tone of disapproval evident in his voice though Cataros knew he wouldn't challenge the mandalorian for a place in the ring. He didn't respond. This was a challenge he had been hoping for.

His eyes back on the challenger as he entered the ring, he couldn't shake the feeling she looked somewhat familiar. In as much as a blank T-visor faceplate can look familiar. It was hard to get any read on her with that thing on, though it was often obvious how an opponent planned to fight just by how they entered the ring, or how they were physically built. She looked like she trained, and that in itself spoke volumes that put her above everyone else here.
He'd heard tales of how the mandalorian people were proud fighters, but also had some kind of religion which involved never removing their helms. It wouldn't do well if he broke her nose while she was wearing it, but nor did that armour welcome a punch with a fist. Ceding that advantage to her, he'd have to play it careful since he had no armour of his own.

Meeting in the middle, he saw his own reflection in that visor as she tilted her head to look up at him, his own smile looking back at him, as though he were happy to see himself.
"Good luck mando" He offered, even as the referee checked they were ready.

A hush descended as the crowd anticipated the signal from the referee. Cataros was a regular at this, anticipating with his eyes still trained on his opponent. If this woman lived up to the mando reputation, this would be one hell of a fight, and he couldn't afford to give her any advantage.
The signal came, a shout from the referee that was drowned out by the crowds before it had even finished and she was on him.

She was fast. Faster than any fighter Cataros had ever seen in this ring, he'd barely started to take a step forward to give some clearance from the edge of the ring and a hand shot out for him. He jerked back on pure reflex to avoid a punch that might've otherwise struck at his head, but in doing so he felt the sharp *snick* of something across his brow.
He hadn't noticed anything at first but the sting that followed told him she'd drawn blood. A fine strike if ever there was one. But she'd have to do better than that to stop him, and he wouldn't let her speed get the better of him.
Recovering his posture, his retaliation would have to play at her game, hitting quick and following without room for doubt.
Launching a fist out like a boxer in her direction he could only hope that he'd either land a blow, or force her to make more space between them.

@Linwood Foster @Hirojani Andro

 

[Linwood Foster]

He clapped at her slice, chuckling to himself. If there was one thing that he enjoyed in his galaxy it was watching somebody else take her beatings. To then bet that she could whip this silver fox like she had him oh so many times on long hauls across the Outer Rim. Each extra chip, credit and puck would be all the sweeter and any drinks or food would be all the fresher.

The retort was strong, that had to be admitted. But it wasn’t a surprise compared to what had happened next. As the Mandolorian set about her attack, hands grasped his shoulders, his hand launched forward and let his chit fly toward the ring. He hoped she’d find it, and get the message but his fate was now in his hands, clutching the hands pulling him up he realised that scales were in question and by the strength… and the strength of the stench, it had to be a Trandoshan.

The other gamblers had stepped aside, right up to the edge of the container. He flew off the opposite side and hit the ground hard. The bulk of the reptilian landed beside him, a deep hiss rolling across the space between them. He felt the grating underneath, pressed against his face as he regained consciousness and saw the toothy grin. He snatched for his blaster and came up aiming. “Alright, scaly-lady, now I am going this way…” he flicked the barrel towards the exit. “... and you are staying back, right there.” With that he began to run as fast as his feet would carry him.

@Hirojani Andro @Cataros Karotene

 

[Hirojani Andro]

Hiro backed away in tandem with Cataros's retaliatory hook, allowing the swing to fall short. Taking a moment she brought a sudden slow to the pace of their short engagement. Keeping a distance she started to move around him. Throwing jabs to maintain distance and aggression she stared to set a pace and continued to examine her opponent. His guard was fairly loose, one arm held lower than the other. On the lower side he'd slightly curled his trunk. That could indicate heavy scarring or recent injury, she made a not to avoid that area unless she needed to really end the fight. As she circled and jabbed she took careful note of how much Cataros did and did not move his feet. Really it was this more than anything else that set him apart as a man who was taught to fight by having fights. His steps were small and corrective, always turning to keep her best in his front arc but rarely moving much from one step. He'd clearly learned to sand his ground rather than get lead around the arena by light footed types.

Most of her jabs were easy enough to block or avoid. They weren't designed to do damage, so much as keep pressure on Cataros, mask the fact that she was examining him. She was sure that he was shrewd or experienced enough to see the jabs for what they were so every couple of blows she'd lean a little harder in to force him to sway back or even to take a hit, ensuring that when he did the hit was in and around the eye with the cut above it, deepening it and encouraging it to bleed and ultimately hamper his vision when the bleeding got too much. She started to build a rhythm. Something predictable. Light, light, heavy, cross. Light, light, heavy, cross. One one ONE Two. She counted and waited. Waited for the bleeding to worsen, waiting for his sight to suffer, waiting for him to pounce on the pattern and attempt a counter.

Having partly split her focus, one ear mentally towards the crowd, she heard a shift in sounds from the outside. She couldn't make out much of it, sure there was shouting. That was common in these kind of fight pits, even shouts of distress as impatient onlookers took to their own fights. So she put it to one side and kept focussed on the fight in front of her.

@Cataros Karotene @Linwood Foster

 

[Cataros Karotene]

The simpler attacks were easily knocked asside. Acting as a flurry of blows to keep him occupied and on the defensive. He didn't need to do too much to counter some of the more pressing blows, knocking asside with an arm that would allow him to retaliate with a jab of his own. Every so often a hard strike came through and he would weather the blow despite his best efforts.
Her aim was good, repeatedly aiming for the cut on his forehead, that he could feel stinging with every blow she successfully delivered. Knowing that while she was on the offensive, she was dictating his movements, steering him around the ring and keeping him from delivering an assault of his own with her constant rain of jabs. He'd need to take a few more blows, no matter where they landed, or how they felt if he was going to break from this. A break from being on the defensive would need to come swiftly, else he would hand over the advantage to the Mandalorian entirely.

In a moment, he broke his defense, arms dropping to his sides, leg stance bracing and reforming his fists. It would be now or ever.
Knowing her skill, she'd know what he was doing even before he started doing it.
That's when he launched the first few blows that came her way. Fist after fist after fist, swinging and jabbing.

@Linwood Foster @Hirojani Andro

 

[Linwood Foster]

Corridors, metal corridors. Turns left, right and yet he moved straight on. The scratching of claws and the whine of a chargin stun setting ensured that he had to keep going. Not willing to see how high the pitch went before firing he'd make turns as soon as it became audible. The other citizens of the station were not making the pursuit easy, yes they weren't grabbing him and helping the Trando, but they didn't move.

Heknew he was near their hangar, and only a turn or two away. He hit a button on his commlink and remotely opened the hatch, rounded another corner and hit into something solid, but with an obese wiggle. The smell of sweat, meat and leather was smeared onto his face as he bounced off the Gamorrean. He caught his feet and ripped out his blaster from the holster, it began whining a few random stun shots but then a fist met the bridge of his nose. The next image was the vertical mesh of the floor, as his head was kept on its side by a grimy, green hand. “... and you are staying back, with us, back there.” hissed the huntress, from behind his head.

@Hirojani Andro @Cataros Karotene

 

[Hirojani Andro]

Hiro was somewhat taken aback. As Cataros dropped his guard and came forward for a blind rush, ignoring her punching rhythm entirely and not even slightly going for a counter, Hiro realised that she was trying too hard. Cataros was a bruiser. Hit hard, get hit hard, keep going till someone falls down. His one tactic is to outlast. Hiro tightened her guard up and started to weather the assault. With slight sways and twists using her powerful trunk she allowed most of the blows to skim or do minimal damage. Every so often she'd let something land harder on an elbow or shoulder block to pull him closer in, the harder impacts upping his apparent thrill.

Ten to twenty blows reigned down. Hiro readied for the moment that the onslaught slowed, the moment where he'd put all his weight behind one heavy swing to finish the punch chain. If Cataros wasn't going to bother with a counter she'd do it. Cataros's shoulder flexed, the muscled along his back tensed and he wound back for one massive punch. A strange toothy grin on his face the whole while. He stepped in, his front foot slamming down with all of his weight, throwing the haymaker to end all haymakers. As this thermal detonator of a punch screamed towards Hiro's domed head she stepped to one side and vanished.

At least that's how it looked to Cataros. The build up of bleeding over one of his eyes had continued unabated. Hiro's poking of it with jabs and occasional straights had worsened the bleeding and now a red curtain descended over one half of Cataros's vision. Hiro side-stepped into this blind spot and around the side of his punching arm. Meeting the momentum of his massive swing with her own Hiro swivelled on her stepping foot and swung her other foot over head in a glittering arc, heel coming down towards Cataros's forehead like a flaming X wing. A concussion missile of a blow appearing from the darkness.

@Linwood Foster @Cataros Karotene