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Theron steps onto the mats, feeling the springy softness through the thin soles of his laced up ship-boots. Nine steps onto them from the other side of the empty room, giving him an assessing once over as he twirls the training knife in his left hand. They are dressed alike in black training tights - Nine's has a jaunty red stripe down the left leg (Why does that make his legs so distracting?), matching long-sleeved black T-shirts and thin black gloves with a bit of padding over the knuckles. Standard close-combat training gear.
Theron lifts his own training knife in a guarded hold as they start to warily circle each other. The only sound is the whisper of their footsteps on the soft mats. Nine lowers his left shoulder slightly as he closes in but Theron refuses the bait, meeting him in a quick flurry of parry, counter-parry, kick and duck-out. Circling again and the scoreboard has started its tally. The thin mesh woven into the training clothes hasn't registered any weapon hits from the knives but they have both landed hits with kicks and fists.
On the scoreboard Theron's thigh sports an orange blob where Nine landed a knee jab while Nine's representation has a matching blob over his right-side ribs thanks to Theron's left fist. And Nine is closing in again – parry, parry, elbow, (Kark! He's fast!) duck – roll and disengage.
The scoreboard behind him pings the first knife point. (Sounds like a joke – no time to make one.) Theron is busy watching Nine. His implants could connect and display the score for him but he can't afford the momentary distraction now.
Nine is very, very fast. He has to be to regularly go toe to toe with force users without a scrap of force on his side but Theron is no slouch either and has taken down his fair share of sith lords with nothing but guns, guts, gadgets and speed. (Heh, that sounds catchy.)
They are pretty well matched for this and for once they are both on the same planet, both uninjured - Theron is officially cleared by Medical since yesterday (Yay!), and both up early enough, mostly because Nine still runs on Ossus time, to get the close combat area for themselves. Until people notice anyway.
Circle - clash – circle, and again. It's a lot like dancing, only faster and with more bruises.
Also they should probably sit down and talk about Ossus soon.
Theron tries for a grapple. If he can get Nine down on the mat he can hold him down (probably) since he is the sturdier of the two and win by immobilizing him. Nine doesn't comply and slithers left instead, leaving yet another orange blob on scoreboard-Theron's leg for his trouble.
Circling again, Nine flashes teeth at him in a fierce grin. Theron grins back. This is fun and they so seldom have the time for it. Duck, feint, counter-parry, parry, disengage. The whisper of their steps has been joined by the low susurration of people trying to be quiet. When did they start to sneak in?
Feint, spin, kick, counter-parry, roll, disengage. (Kark, he follows!) Parry, parry, counter, feint, fist (Ha!), duck, duck, disengage. Each encounter is at full speed, a blur of motion leaving bruising flesh under the blooming orange markers and soft ah sounds from the spectators still silently filing in and sliding along the walls to find a standing space without disturbing them.
Theron can't think of them now, can't think of anything else at all. This is more like sex than dancing - absorbing his full attention, all his senses and all his thoughts. The entire galaxy has shrunk down to only Nine, moving and turning in attack and defense. (Yes, that's what Nine is to him – the focal point of his galaxy.)
Feint, kick, parry, kick (Yes!), parry (Ouch!), feint, disengage. And again.
Spies fighting isn't like soldiers fighting or bounty hunters and definitely not like jedi. There is no dependency on others, no honor, no greed, no walk away to try another day. If your cover is blown and they corner you with no way to talk them out of it, you fight to survive any way you can with any tools you can grab. And maybe, if you are fast enough, ruthless enough and quiet enough, you can still save the op and walk away. When it's real it's fast and ugly and desperate.
This isn't quite real though, no hits to the head and no real injury allowed – this is just to test Theron's recovery.
(It's exhilarating.)
Attack, parry, parry, grab, (Kark!), roll, roll, kick. Theron scrambles to avoid the knife coming in high and gets a knee in the gut, felling him again. Grabbing the knife-arm he rolls left, ducking the head-butt as Nine half-falls over him. His own knife is lost somewhere under them as they grapple and roll. If Theron had his darts this would be over now but they agreed on just knives.
Nine seems to be made of angry elbows and knees as Theron tries to get him down in a hold. The bruises will be spectacular. A swift elbow and a twist breaks Theron's half-assed hold and they roll apart again, scrambling to their feet with more alacrity than grace. Certainly less grace in Theron's case, his stamina isn't up to his usual standards.
Nine closes in immediately, knife held low – forcing Theron to defend and duck. He manages to get a grip anyway as Nine tries to slip by and they spin instead, just for a moment before Nine uses the spin to fling himself around. The momentum fells Theron onto his left side on the mat with Nine's thighs now wrapped around his throat and Theron's right leg and arm gripped in an uncomfortable hold. Not that he usually minds, he loves getting those strong thighs wrapped around him wherever Nine wants to place them - but not with an audience. The piercing wolf-whistle rising above the cheers has certainly made him blush. Hopefully his face was already red enough from the fight to mask it.
“Choking you.”
Nine sounds cheerful as he doesn't choke Theron at all, just holds him as still as he can in the weird but effective hold. Theron tries to kick with his free leg to no success while his left hand stops pushing at Nine's thigh to search the mat to his left instead. There! The audience has a count-down going now, presumably for the choke-hold, as he grabs his knife, whips it up and drags it in a cut as far into the inside of Nine's thigh as he can reach. The scoreboard dings for a killing blow and the room erupts in cheers and arguments about how fast Theron should have died or not-died from choking before Nine bled out. (Kriffing Gault, how did he get betting going that quickly? And why is he up this early?)
Nine and Theron untangle themselves slowly (I wish we were still alone here...) and get to their feet. Their once pristine scoreboard selves are impressively orange in uneven blobs and stripes all over. Someone.. several someone's are still filming. Theron prods his implants to wipe the films from their holos and pads as quickly as possible – and save copies for himself. For analysis purposes only, of course.
“Good fight.”
Nine smacks him gently on his good shoulder and Theron smiles at him.
“Yeah, it's great to be able to really move again.”
“Next time, let's do this after dinner to really bring in a crowd. How about once a week – with a winner of the month scoreboard?”
Gault sidles up to them waving his hands at the mats in exaltation, eyes shining as he envisions the grand beauty of the betting pool he could set up and the size of the cut he could take. Nine gives Gault the Chiss Glare of Death instead of answering and Theron has to look away so he doesn't ruin the effect by giggling. He feels all light and bubbly now as if Odessen lost half its gravity while he wasn't looking.
“No? Not even once a month?”
Gault is cautiously backing away, eyes flicking between the impressive amount of orange on their scoreboard avatars and the training knife still in Nine's hand.
“Ok, ok. But a boss-match - once a year, wouldn't that be fun?”
Gault - rather bravely, not many go on talking under that glare - still tries to sell the idea while Hylo and one of her smugglers grab hold of him and start to drag him with them. Gault lets himself be dragged, while still trying for a puppy-eyed look in Nines direction.
“What did I ever do to deserve all these mad people?”
Nine turns to Theron – maybe for moral support. He should know better by now.
“Hey, we all just follow your lead here.”
Nine throws his hands up at that muttering - “Sculag* – all of you.”
Theron's answering snort earns him another slap on the shoulder before Nine turns towards the emptying exit.
“Shower and kolto?”
“Yeah, shower and kolto and then breakfast.”
“Come on then.”
Nine starts for the exit and Theron falls into step with him. Shoulder to shoulder and ready for a new day.
* Chiss swear word meaning weak-minded.