The sound of fists thudding against punching bags and shouts of critique filled the air of Rokii’s Gym, the premiere training ground for up and coming boxers in Eos City. A dozen different pairs of boxers and their trainers ringed the room, prepping for their next fight, each with dreams of being the greatest Arx had ever seen. In the centre of the room stood Rokii’s fabled boxing ring, into which only the toughest were invited to test their mettle.
TuQ had recently discovered the world of underground boxing on Arx while on a trip to the Brotherhood’s seat of power and quickly found betting on the sport quite lucrative. It was here that TuQ and his former clanmate Teebu found themselves scouting talent for their next big payday.
The walls of the gym were lined with photos of boxers, the tales of those who had come through here before. A monument to the success stories of not only the boxers, but the gym that made them who they are.
As the pair began their hunt for a boxer worthy of a large bet, the images on the wall began to draw TuQ in. He began to think that instead of betting on the boxers, maybe, just maybe he could get some training himself and become the next Rokii’s success story. Maybe he should bet on himself.
Scanning the walls with a feeling of inspiration, one young face in particular stood out to TuQ, one he felt like he knew somehow. The young man in the picture had jet black hair parted neatly down the centre and tucked behind his ears. His blue eyes started back at TuQ, piercing into the Kel Dor as if he could see the potential he possessed. A small plaque below the photo simply read “Undefeated”.
“Hey Teebu,” TuQ called over to the Ewok. “Does this guy look familiar to you?”
Eos City Marketplace
Marick Tyris Arconae – former Combat Master and Voice of the Brotherhood, former Shadow Lord Emeritus of the Shadow Clan, formerly one of the galaxies top assassins, the Gray Fang…and now current Exarch of the Brotherhood – browsed the wares of the shop stall. Eerily bright blue eyes scanned each item carefully through the protective glass.
He had to choose carefully. Time was of the essence. The vendor took out two of the items from behind the glass and carefully held them up.
In one hand, a floral dress with pink whorl’s and accents. In the other, a red dress that looked a bit more elegant and formal. Both dresses looked to be sized for a small child of about 3 or 4 years of age.
“An excellent eye, sir,” the vendor explained. “Imported fabric, both in the current core-world fashion.”
Marick studied each one carefully, thinking which would make his daughter the most happy.
Teebu shook his head negatively as he raised his bottle of Whyren’s Reserve to his lips, taking a lip sip from it as he watched. “No, no idea at all.”
He lowered the bottle back down between his legs, which mostly were on his seat with his feet pointing straight out. He crossed his arms and just continued to watch. “Though there is an odd familiarity it almost seems like. But I’m fairly certain I don’t.”
TuQ titled back his wide brimmed hat and squinted once more on the oddly familiar face staring back at him.
“Maybe you’re right,” TuQ responded as he took a seat next to the Ewok. His eyes scanning across the room studying the fighters gathered around.
The pair closest to Teebu and TuQ decided to take a break from their training, the young Zabraki boxer panted heavily and wiped away the sweat dripping down his brow.
“You a fan of old Fairy Fists?” he asked TuQ.
“Huh? Who?”
“The boxer in the photo, ol’ Fairy Fists was one of the greatest fighters this city has ever seen. Only fought for five years but went undefeated his entire career. I wish I could have seen him fight, just once.”
Marketplace
Marick ended up purchasing both dresses, because maybe some days she was feeling like a farm girl and other days she was feeling like a lady at court.
Something scratched at his awareness in the Force. It was not his preternatural danger sense, his keen awareness already having clocked the different armed and unarmed Iron Legion soldiers milling about Eos City, some aware of him, others not. No, something else tickled at the corner of his Force sensitivity.
Curious.
He continued making his way through the market, looking for a few more items on his shopping list.
| Rokii’s Gym
TuQ looked around the room, none of the fighters here looked like champion material to him, not a big pay day like he wanted. But if he could find this Fairy Fists person, maybe TuQ could be that champion.
“He is he? Where can we find him?” TuQ asked excitedly.
“After his last fight, he just up and disappeared. No one here knows his real name, but rumour has it he’s some high ranking member of the Dark Brotherhood.” The Zabrak replied.
TuQ turned to his furry friend.
“I think we should try and find him!”
Downing the remainder of his drink and gave a nod to TuQ.
“Yeah, let’s. Could be fun.” he remarked as he scooted up on the seat, turning himself around as he slowly let himself down to let his feet touch the floor.
The only downside to him being short, higher seats like in the arena here were always problematic.
“I’m super curious who in the Brotherhood it would be…betting my former boss. Zxyl would totally be involved in something like that…” he threw in as he began moving along the row towards the end.
| Markeplace
“No, I’m serious. I think with the right training, I could be a champion!” TuQ almost sounded like he was pleading with Teebu as the two of them made their way through the Arx City market.
The sun was shining down on the busy streets of the market.
“Now, we need to figure out where to start looking.” TuQ continued on. “It’s not like we’re just going to bump into Fairy Fists here in the market, so we need a plan to find him.”
As Marick walked with a small cloth shopping bag in his hands, there was a sudden, jarring shift in the crowd.
Even despite the Iron Legion presence, crime wasn’t entirely foreign to Eos City. Offworlders sometimes gained access, or trading ships inevitably carries stow aways.
In either case, one such degenerate managed their way to the marketplace. They were a Quarren wearing mercenary leathers and an eye patch over one squid-like eye.
Their mandibles slithered as they let out a watery gargle of triumph, as they managed to sticky-finger the shopping bag of a passing Human. The elderly man, thin whispy hair combed over, let out a cry.
“Hey! Those are my cabbages!”
But it was too late. The bandit was taking off into the crowded market.
Preternatural reflex, extending beyond the gift of the Force, kicked into gear as the bandit crossed into Marick’s sphere of awareness and attempted to pass him.
The Master’s body moved in a blur of light, one hand snapping out to catch and arrest the Quarrens forward progress.
The Quarren sneered, and tried to chop a hand down against Marick’s wrist to break free, but the Hapan made a few quick slides of his hands. The first action managed to swat aside the bandits blow, the second struck out with the back of his knuckles into the Quarrens “nose”, and the third followed through with a precise throat-chop with the flat of the same hand.
The Quarren staggered backward as a small circle grew in the crowd to give them space.
The bandit tried to recover, pushing through the pain, anger coursing and driving adrenaline. “P-p-unk!”
He followed the insult with a string of punches and swipes from a knife.
Marick calmly wove through the assault, nodding his head left and right, shifting his body at just the right angle to let the blade pass harmlessly in whatever space he had occupied preciously.
The bandit’s breath became ragged as his stamina waned, labored heaves as not a single attack landed.
Then Marick side stepped a weak stab and delivered a single, augmented-with-the-Force punch to the Quarrens jaw that snapped their head back and dropped them like a sack of grain to the marketplace floor.
Marick blinked a few times. He quietly leaned down, picked up the bag, and handed it back to the man who had been robbed.
“Thank you, sir!”
Marick simply nodded and, noticing motion at the edge of the crowd that appeared to be Iron Legion enforcers, calmly stepped back to let them finish apprehending the perpetrator.
TuQ’uan stood at the edge of the commotion, looking on in awe at the ease with which the thug was dispatched. As the bag was returned his breath caught in the back of his throat. Those gleaming blue eyes couldn’t belong to anyone else.
“Fairy Fists?” he croaked, trying to force his voice to come out. “Fairy Fists?” He shouted louder over the commotion of the Iron Legion enforcers dispersing the crowd.
Teebu was trying his hardest to see over the crowd, but couldnt even see between their legs.
“Is it Zxyl? Is it Zxyl?” Teebu asked loudly trying to make sure TuQ heard him.
Marick exchanged a few words with the officers, who thanked him. He glanced over and saw a familiar Kel-Dor with a familiar hat.
“Varick,” he raised a hand to greet his former Magistrate, and current Quaestor of Clan Plagueis. It wasn’t really a question, but more of a statement.
“Marick?!” TuQ exclaimed. It had been a while since the two had last met, but he was shocked he hadn’t recognized the photo of former Voice of the Brotherhood.
The Hapan waved and made his way over towards the Kel-dor. He slowly extended his free hand, his face remaining a calm, impassive mask. “How fares your latest stint as Quaestor?”
He clocked the Ewok standing beside TuQ'uan, made a quick mental reference that he could very well be the Taldryan Proconsul, but kept that information tucked away just in case. As Exarch, he had to keep up polite appearances. Especially on Arx.
The Ewok blinked in surprise. It wasn’t Zxyl…but it was his former boss, Marick.
He knew he was fairly versed in combat, but to earn a title like fairy fists? This had Teebu very, very curious.
Instead of speaking, he stood and opted to wait until spoken to so as not to interrupt them either.
“Teebu,” Marick greeted flatly, looking down at the Ewok in the most polite manner he could. “What brings the two of you to the market?”
“Watching fights, actually. And now hunting for the one who goes by the alias fairy fists,” Teebu said, his arms behind him with hands linked, “TuQ'uan here is wanting some training by them.”
Marick blinked once. His face remained an impassive mask.
“Fairy hands,” he repeated. “It has been some time since I heard that name. Made a bet with Ventus when I was still Combat Master. Had to prove my point, so I was forced to enter a tournament.”
He seemed to recall memory in the same way a droid might check its databanks. “Apparently I ‘won too hard’ I believe were his words afterwards.”
“So, it is you then.” TuQ removed his hat and held it over his chest. “You taught me before, will you teach me again? I want to be a champion. No, a master. I want to be the very best, like no one ever was.” He paused a moment. “No, like you were.”
Teebu now crossed his arms, looking at his friend and laughing a slight bit.
“You ask him to train you…but out of the two of us, I’ve seen him in combat. Are you sure you want to ask him this? Cause if so, this will be enjoyable to watch.”
“What, you think you can do better?” TuQ snapped back.
“Oh not at all,” Teebu quipped with a chuckle, “More that the ground will be your best friend for a while.”
“I think you underestimate my abilities,” TuQ seethed, his back straightening with unearned confidence.
Marick blinked twice, the only real sign of his attention/following of the conversation between the Kel-dor and Ewok. He then glanced at his wrist-comm, and tapped a few buttons and scrolled through his schedule.
“I have some time today, sure. We can see if the Iron Legion will let us utilize their training barracks, if that would suffice?”
TuQ looked down at Teebu expectantly.
“What do you say? We could put some credits on it. Worst case scenario you owe me, say, 200 credits? Best case scenario, you get my money and get to see my ass hit the floor.”
“200? Let’s make it 2,000,” Teebu said as he patted TuQ’s leg, “And trust me, see your ass hit the floor I will. Much more than once.”
Marick didn’t react to the negotiation, but did start towards the direction of the Iron Legion barracks. If he expected Varick and Teebu to follow, he made no indication of it, but kept firm hold of his shopping bag in his free hand as he moved effortlessly through the crowd and towards one of the looming Iron Legion facility entrances.
Teebu began following behind, having pulled out his datapad and looking at what kinds of alcohol he could spend 2,000 credits on…
The trio wove through the busy street towards the Iron Legion barracks. The crowds seemed to bend around Marick as he strode forward, leaving Teebu and TuQ following behind in his wake, pushing through pedestrians to keep up.
“Excuse…look out…hey…MOVE!” A group walking ahead of the Kel Dor jumped at his shout and scurried out of the way.
Up ahead Marick waited at the base of the Iron Legion facility, he exchanged a few words with the man standing guard, pointed at TuQ and Teebu, and entered the facility.
“Gentleman,” the guard greeted them, an edge in his voice. “You’re guests of the Exarch here, don’t make him regret it.” Stepping aside, the legionnaire granted the pair entry into the massive building.
The interior of the training facility was spartan and practical, like a duracrete gymnasium with training weapons on racks around the edge of the room and a large empty space for running drills filling the centre of the room. Marick was nearly folding his jacket and lying in on top of his paper shopping bag as the pair approached.
“Alright.”TuQ threw his hat and jacket on the ground beside Marick’s. “Let’s make me a champion.”
“Let’s raise the stakes,” Teebu threw in before they could finish preparing. “Instead of 2,000 credits, why not 200 to me for every time you’re on your ass and 200 to you every time you put Marick on his?”
Teebu had absolute confidence in his boss, and knew how much more this would end up netting him. By throwing in the provision at the end, there was no way TuQ was going to be able to resist it. He knew TuQ too well to think otherwise.
TuQ looked Marick up and down while stretching his arms.
“I’ll take that action.” He replied.
Without his robes, Marick looked…fairly normal. His plain long-sleeve white shirt and gray fatigue pants framed a lean, wiry frame. While there looked to be no discernible body fat anywhere to be found, he also lacked any significant bulk. More like a dancer than what anyone would consider a prize fighter or boxer.
The Hapan slipped out of his shoes and tapped the floor experimentally with his bare feet, nodding a few times to himself. He took a scrunchy tie that must have been on his wrist and tied his shoulder length hair back a bit into a high tail.
The Exarch regarded Teebu’s comments, blinked once in acknowledgement, then turned back to TuQ. “If that is what you wish, I will honor these terms.”
He squared up from the Kel Dor and sized him up. When Marick had looked at TuQ earlier, it was a casual thing. This time, when Marick studied him, the Quaestor felt like he was walking through a security access point at one of Plageuis’ high security facilities. He seemed to be taking a mechanical detailed inventory of the Kel Dor.
Rolling one shoulder, Marick slid into a martial stance. His left leg slid back, right leg forward, one hand stretching out in front of him and making a knife-like shape of his hand while the other floated protectively up in front of his chin.
Teebu took a seat nearby, wondering just how many crates of Whyren’s Reserve he would be able to order at the end of this. 10? 20?
He was more excited over that than anything else at the moment, and watched the boxing match very closely due to it.
TuQ kicked his shoes off and bounced on the balls of his feet his, arms shook loosely at his sides. His balled fists raised to his mid section. He bounced from foot to foot readying himself before lunging forward. His right hand feigned a haymaker while he put all of his might into an uppercut from his left hand aimed square at Marick’s jaw.
This will be easier than expected, TuQ thought.
The strike was good. Shadow Step was predicated, however, on catching your opponent off guard. Marick was, in this case and usually, on guard. Some called it paranoid, the former spymaster liked to just consider himself very alert.
Still, Sliding Hands was not a boxing style. So he had to mask it, slightly, to look like boxing, which was a bit of an effort. To compensate, he tapped the Force to momentarily heighten his reflexes. He might not have needed to, but it was habitual at this point.
The uppercut passed harmlessly through the air as Marick’s head and shoulders dipped out of the way, the rest of his body following in a brief blur.
Marick followed his dodge up with a careful strike. He balled his fists and jabbed forward with his lead fist and attempted a quick-cross to TuQs face.
His strike…missed. Perhaps he overcompensated for his boost of speed, or maybe he was just rusty? A fight was very different when he wasn’t in a life of death situation…
TuQ left himself open after his initial attack, as Marick’s fist rushed toward his face he quickly dipped to the side, he could feel a rush of air brush past. TuQ stumbled the the side and caught himself before falling over. He glared over at his Ewok companion not willing to give him the satisfaction of going down that quickly. TuQ was going to have to up his game if he wanted any chance of putting Marick on the ground.
Teebu smirked, arms crossed as he watched this unfold. He felt Marick was being gentle, as he had expected TuQ to already be on his rear once. That, or he was gauging his skill to see where he is first…before he puts him down.
At the least, he needed him to go down ten times to match the original bet. Anything greater than was just a bonus of alcohol.
Marick recovered, did a quick mental calibration, and then focused his full attention on the sparring at hand. He darted forward and threw a series of quick jabs and hooks, which TuQ managed to evade fairly easily. The Exarch quickly retreated, however, lowering his hands away from his face to create an inviting target.
TuQ was happy to oblige as the Kel Dor’s fist snapped towards the Hapan’s nose. Marick deftly nodded his head to the side to avoid the blow, but instead of countering, baited TuQ to keep trying.
With a faint boost to his already sharply honed reflexes through the Force, Marick barely threw a punch or a jab back towards TuQ with serious intent, instead focusing on letting him keep trying to land a definitive blow.
Even in the short bout, it was clear that the Kel Dor was starting to strain. Conditioned as he was, there was a different kind of mental stamina that paired with the physical. The mental frustration of not landing a hit became clear.
“There was a famous boxer who used this same method. I think it was called the ‘rope-n-dope’, though I’m not familiar with the etymology,” Marick explained, as he continued to slip away from each punch or hook or even grapple like slippery serpent.
The two squared up, TuQ panting, Marick sweating from his brow but otherwise seeming no worse for the wear. But neither had yet to go down to the mat.
“Consequentially, also a good method against Juggernauts or a Force user Raging.”
TuQ took a deep breath and steadied himself, he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he let his anger and frustration take over. How Marick was staying so calm and collected, he had no idea. TuQ rolled his shoulders and danced forward, crouching a touch to lower his centre of gravity. He jabbed with his left hand, Marick twisted to the side forcing TuQ to continue past.
Marick continued to trade blows with TuQ, and offered some coaching and tips. Neither actually went down, however, much to Teebu’s disheartenment.
“In a real fight, none of this really matters. But for bouts like this, and without truly dedicating to the craft of Kick or Shockboxing, you just have to use your existing skills as best you can.”