Sleight of Hand

Arianne Doppler's grin widened as the man sat opposite her grimaced and rubbed his bicep. Glancing down, she counted the credit notes on the bench beside her, looking back up at the next burly spacer sizing her up. 
"Come on," she teased. "One more try?"
"...no."
"Aw, come on. Can't leave us hanging like this."
Ari took a deep drag from the smouldering roll between her lips, adjusting her grip as the blood pounding in her ears surged. She hazarded a glance backwards at her crew chief, Reyes, watching with a couple of others sat up at the bar, before turning back. 
"Listen. You win, the whole stake's yours. All in. "
The response came with a scowl, but the man sat back down again, broad shoulders straining against his oil-stained jacket.
"Fine."
Ari leaned forward, locking eyes with the spacer as his calloused hand clasped hers. He was sizing her up one more time, in case careful examination of her tight victorious smirk had missed something the last few times she had flashed it. It hadn't.
"Three... two... one—go!"
The spacer's arm tensed immediately - perhaps hoping to catch her by surprise, if not for the fact that each of his friends before him had all tried the exact same thing. Ari held steady, her elbow anchored to the table even as he strained against it. She waited, letting the stalemate drag out for a few moments, and then - with slow, deliberate control - she began to push him back.
He growled and redoubled his efforts, but he was straining against the inevitable. Ari's arm pressed down, inch by inch, pushing her far larger opponent back until his hand slapped the surface with a dull thud.
The spacer yanked his hand back like it had been burned, and a moment later it slammed down onto the table, drowning out another muttered curse.
Ari casually stretched her arms over her head, relaxed despite - or perhaps revelling in - the tension creeping into the room. Behind her, Reyes was already shifting uneasily in his seat, his eyes flickering from the credits to the muttering patrons, looking as if he'd caught a shift in the wind. She caught his gaze, and for a split second, her playful smile faltered. But only for a second.
"Anyone else?" she asked, scanning the bar.
This time there was near silence. Still, her grin persisted as she leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly and flicking the spent roll into an empty glass. The clatter echoed louder than it should have, sending a ripple through the bar.
"You boys reaaally wanna let me leave with a clean sheet?"
"That's enough, Ari," Reyes called out from behind her, his voice low but unmistakably cautious. Ari's smile faltered again as she glanced at him, but she quickly brushed it off. She was winning, they were losing. What was the problem?
"Girlie thinks she's clever."
One of the dockworkers, a bald man with arms that showed off years of zero-g labour and a crooked nose that told stories of hasty settings after fist-fights, finally piped up. He'd been waiting his turn and watching intently, right until stepping back and taking his spot at the back of the room in the last few matches. 
"Girlie thinks she sees a bunch of fools who won't notice being robbed blind."
Ari met his gaze, unfazed, the playful grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. She knew she was pushing it, but something inside her wouldn't let her back down. 
"Maybe not fools. She just sees sore losers-"
"Maybe girlie doesn't know what happens to cheats." 
"Alright, alright." Reyes stood up from his stool with a sharp breath, setting his drink down a little too carefully. "Everyone's had their fun. Just a bit of beginner's luck, no?" His voice slowly crescendoed, carrying over the rising noise of the other spacers. 
"What do you say we buy a round for the bar with the spoils of war, yeah? Good game, everyone wins."
The dockworker on his feet took a few steps closer to the bar, but the one sat opposite Ari didn't move. His eyes were locked on her, jaw set, his breathing slow but deliberate. Trained instinct told her this was the moment right before things went bad; the tightening of muscles, an unconscious shifting of weight. But she hadn't seen it - her vision had been fogged by how unassuming the civilian setting seemed, and by the hype of getting drawn into a contest where she had the upper hand. She wasn't supposed to think like that any more, and she hadn't. Not until they were right at the precipice. 
"No takers? Fair enough." Reyes reached over and took another swig from the bottle on the counter, tossing it back and forth between his hands, before continuing. "How about a couple of rounds for everyone, hm? Call it three. Teach the kid to be gracious in victory." 
Silence.
"Alright, then. Can't blame a man for trying." Reyes shrugged - and when he turned back around, his grip was around the bottle's neck.
Well. If a fight was inevitable, you may as well have the upper hand. She could see that much clearly, at least.
Inhale.
In one swift motion, she pushed herself back in her seat, sliding her arm away and kicking her leg under the table. With a sharp twist of her hip, she flipped the table toward the spacer sat opposite her, sending drinks, credits, and everything else flying before he had even drawn his shoulder back to throw a punch. He staggered backwards, and before he could steady himself, a boot placed into the middle of the overturned table slammed it into him, toppling him over backwards to the floor.
Chaos erupted in an instant. The bald dockworker roared in fury, charging back toward her, but Ari was already moving, weaving past a swinging fist and landing a solid jab to his midsection. He doubled over with a grunt before an elbow landed squarely in his face, but two more of his buddies were closing in fast. One grabbed her by the arm, but she twisted out of his grip, the heel of her free hand catching him square in the jaw. The other lunged at her from behind, but Reyes, quicker than he looked, stepped in with a sharp uppercut that sent the man sprawling to the floor. 
"This is escalating!"
Ari barely heard him. The fight had her firing on all cylinders for the first time in a while; each blow, each movement, each wild swing effortlessly ducked under was precise yet instinctive. A few steps took her to the side of the bar, grabbing a fistful of hair from a man wielding a broken bottle at Reyes and slamming his head down into the counter. For a split second, she felt a strange exhilaration - an old one, that came from when her fights were graded, scoreboarded. 
But it wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to be this person any more.
"Time to go!" Reyes barked, pulling her back by the collar as the rest of the bar descended into full-blown chaos, the rest of their crew already beating a hasty retreat and making their own way home. 
"Not yet!" Fist met gut, forehead met nose, riposte met empty air, but the rest of their crew were already beating a hasty retreat - making their own ways home, a long-standing agreement to not draw more attention than needed. One way or another, the odds were looking increasingly lopsided against Ari.
Reyes grabbed her arm, hard, this time, his voice tense. "Now."
The two of them scrambled towards the exit, projectiles and angry roars following them in their wake as they burst through the doors and spilled out onto the street - gasping, grinning and most importantly, clutching their winnings.
----- 
Ari was still smiling, impish, when they rounded the corner and their pace dropped from a dead sprint into a quick walk. Then - a moment's pause, a hand on her shoulder - and Reyes had brought her to a stop. 
"You okay, kid?"
"Never better, Chief." 
"Hmph." He sighed, running a hand over his brow and glancing around, before looking back down at her. "Glad you're alright. I shouldn't have let that stunt go so far."
"Why not? They weren't any trouble."
"Yeah, not when-" He paused, briefly, for a second. Something passed over his mind, an old idiom about gift horses and mouths. "F'get it. Just didn't know you could fight like that." 
The non-committal gesture Ari offered back certainly didn't seem to satisfy him, but he didn't press the point further, at least. They kept their heads down, their strides long, their pace fast. Stairs ran them up to the platform for the mag-tram stop; the tapping of a credit chit and a few steps aboard had them on their way, whisked towards the port quarter.
But as the night's unpleasantries sank away out of mind, so did the adrenaline pushing her through it. And it was left with the briefest fragments of abject terror. That was foolish - that was stupid - she wasn't in a sparring match at Camp Curahee any more - she could've been caught - she could've given herself away - Reyes probably knew now - he was going to leave her behind on this world - all of this for a handful of credit notes-
A hand grabbed her, gripped the wrist of a hand that had been anxiously scrunching up her winnings into a ball. 
"Give these to me." Reyes's voice was low but calm, a tone calculated to avoid drawing attention.
"Huh, what-"
"Everything. Pass it over." 
"Everything?"
"I'm not that stupid. It's a lot harder to slip something past ol' Chief Reyes than it looks." 
For a moment Arianne tensed. For a moment the fight-flight surged again. This was it. This was the moment she was outed, this was the moment she was forced to hand everything over and left for dead. She had to act now, or else this was the end of this whole charade, of her make-believe life as just a harmless mecha-
She drew a breath and swallowed it down, clenching her jaw and forcing instinct to stand by.
"Why?"
"Look, I'll pay you back for the cash, but I'd rather you not get busted for trying to spend counterfeit credits." He was already digging up his chit with his other hand, before gesturing with it for her to tap hers against it. "I'll find something to do with it, palm it off to someone less observant on our next port call." 
Taut muscles relaxed, reflexes spooled themselves back down. 
"Thanks, Chief."
 "Don't worry about it, Ari."
Exhale.
Category:Seventh Circle
Category:The Weekly