Stuck With Me: A Cad Bane Novel

Chapter 25

Warnings: fights, canon typical stuff

Word count: 1.4k

'I can't believe yer still agreein' to this,' Cad grumbles.
'Not like I can back out now, anyway,' you reply, a wry grin on your face.

The two of you stand on the other side of a large grate - the only thing that separates you from the arena and the view of the bloodthirsty crowd - in half darkness. You're covered in the armour that the Leader of the Kanji provided you, which, after he checked for booby traps, Cad deemed appropriate. His palms are sweating, and he's pretty sure you're at least ten times more relaxed than he is. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the way the desire for blood is so thick in the air he can barely breathe despite his tubes, doesn't like that this is his fault because he was the one who killed that Twi'lek.

He hates Coruscant because of the crowds, and he hates the crowds in Nar Shaddaa even more. For every double dealer in Coruscant, there are three on the notorious moon of Nal Hutta - one to distract you, one to steal your money, and one to stab you in the back. His hands are constantly glued to his LL-30s, his eyes are constantly scanning the droves of people; he can't deal with his radar on alert the whole time - all he wants to do is get back to the Justifier and spend a few long hours with you in the bed in the middle of hyperspace, but no, here he is, a non religious man, praying that his fullua doesn't get taken from him in the arena.

With a scraping, sharp screech, the grate begins to open, and it takes all he has to not grab you and run, but he doesn't, because he knows you can fend for yourself now. Gods be damned, you can hold your own in this damn arena. Cad's eyes fix on your back as you step out into the light, and the swarm roars for your blood, jeering, screaming, leering. Dimly, he can hear the clink of credits being exchanged, and he knows that in a way, the Kanji have scammed you because if you win this, you'll rack in more credits than what you got for that Twi after you agreed to fighting, but if you lose... If you lose, you die.

He forces that thought from his head, instead calling out from behind you. 'Good luck, fullua.'
You glance back at him, and your gaze makes his heart flutter. 'Thanks, Cad.'

The way you say his name makes his stomach flip over - or maybe it's his nerves. Folding his arms over his chest so he doesn't start pulling his blaster on anyone, he feels his jaw tighten as you pull out the sword that you were given. It flashes dangerously in the glaring sun as you raise it above your head, stirring up the horde as you stalk forward, further into the arena. You're playing the crowd as if you've been fighting in the Garkata Fighting Arena for all your life, as if they aren't screaming for your demise, your blood staining the sand.

Opposite you, the grate begins to open, and Cad leans forward, trying to glimpse who you're fighting. He catches a glimpse of sets of hairy legs, of pairs of bright red eyes, of a white, skull - like grin... He curses under his breath. What is she doing here? She should be in the fighting pits of Nar Kanji, not here, in Nar Shaddaa. She should be anywhere except facing his fullua in a fighting arena, surrounded by a multitude calling for blood.

The throng roars as she scuttles forward, still smiling. It's a chilling expression, the colour of shattered bone, and it gives nothing away. Cad knows that she sees you as nothing but a snack, someone she can finish off without a thought, and he desperately hopes that you'll prove her wrong. He sees you glance around, eyes glowing with defiance as the mass cheers your opponents name, no doubt in their minds on who will win.

'Wyrmen Lictor,' you mouth to yourself, recognition flitting over your features. Most likely you heard of her when you were with Gavinc Russ, and Cad sees the hand which isn't holding the sword slip down to the blaster at your side. Above, the announcer is screeching to the crowd, riling them up, and you drop into a crouch, limbs tight and ready for when she pounces. Her white clad limbs skitter forward as she sways a little, all ten of her eyes fixed on you. Slowly, sinisterly, she cocks her head, grinning, her tongue darting out to run over her sharp teeth.

'I can already taste your blood, little buggie,' her voice is more hiss than words, her cackle like the rattle of dried bones. 'Can't wait to string you up.'
You don't answer, just dive to the side as she raises her blasters to shoot at you, and as you roll over in the sand, swiftly getting to your feet, you melt into the Trandoshan form.
'Ooh,' she coos. 'A Clawdite.'
'No,' you spit. 'A Shi'ido.'

And then you lunge.

You're upon her in a second, landing a hefty right hook that makes Lictor's head snap back before she closes her boney legs around you, wrapping you in her grasp so she can tangle you in her webs, unfeeling to the blows you rain down on her. Watching with his heart in his throat, Cad finds himself pressed up against the railings, his heart pounding in his ears as you dissolve into a massiff, sinking your rows of serrated teeth into her right arm, forcing her to drop her blaster before you break away from her, feet skidding in the sand. Eyes blazing, she screams in pain and rage, shooting webs at you, and you dodge every single one, flitting between forms so fast you look like a flickering holovid.

Maker, you're hot.

Early on, when he was still teaching you basic mechanics, he let himself think that if you ever recovered from your trauma, you'd be as soft spoken and timid as you were then. Stars, he was wrong. Cad only needs to look a few metres ahead of him to confirm that; confirm that all that fear that you had bottled up inside you is streaming out in a flood of blazing defiance against anyone who stands for what Russ did.

With a dart of movement that skewers Cad's train of thought and sends it careening away, Lictor scuttles towards you, firing with her remaining blaster, and as you duck low, she shoots a web that wraps tightly around your ankles, tripping you. Cad winces as you crash to the ground, and you grit your teeth and cry out when one of her legs comes slashing down by your head, slicing your cheek open when you don't jerk to the side in time, Lictor's delighted laughter sharp as shards of carapace. Vermillion drips onto the sand, marking the arena with your life force, a splash of you absorbing into the ground, a beacon unique to you saying: I was here, and I fought here, let's see if I leave here. Wiping blood from your face, letting it paint your features claret, you lash out at her, Human body melding away into a Dactillion, wings straining with sinew as they beat, letting you hover over her abdomen as you gore it with a sharp blow from your talons.

'Get down here,' Lictor screeches. 'Running away is nothing but cowardice to me.'
'As you wish,' you reply, shifting as you drop to the ground.

A smile tugs at Cad's lips at the horror on Wyrmen Lictor's face at the form you've chosen. You've got a nice touch, alright. Evidently, the crowd thinks so too, because a silence heavy with bated breaths rises to a roar at your manipulation, and they begin to scream your name. Betrayal streaks across Lictor's features as she hears the way the multitude have turned on her, and she lunges for you - only for you to mirror her movements easily. You match every single one of her attacks, dodging where she dodges, slashing where she slashes. The only thing of yours that is not symmetrical to hers is your triumphant smile, is that your blows hit, while hers fall futilely short.

He can tell that you know she's getting desperate.

He can tell that you know you're winning.

And you're doing it in her form.