Rye stepped off the drop ship with the team mates of her tenth game: Wraith and Bangalore. They all looked disheartened at the second to last place finish. Rye's comms and "uncanny instinct" often made or broke an encounter, but her fire fights left a lot to be desired. She had choked, costing Wraith her life, which had a trickle-down effect. Bangalore gave her a single pat on the back but otherwise, the other two Legends wordlessly departed. Rye hadn't returned to the bar since that evening Caustic tailed her, but she needed a drink after that game. She also hadn't seen much of Bloodhound around since then, either. She only caught glimpses of him in the dropship or running in the distance in King's Canyon.
She didn't even bother going home first, she slugged her way to a strong whisky in an empty bar. Rye sat in solitude and knocked back glasses at a corner table. She'd emptied her third glass when someone else entered the establishment; it was Caustic. She watched him take two drinks from the bartender and start walking towards her. He set a glass in front of her and sat himself down at her table.
"Where's your guard dog?" he asked with a sneer. She took the drink and swirled it around. A prediction: he was much too eager for her to drink this.
"Where's your human decency?" she retorted. He laughed.
"I lost that a long time ago." He took a sip of his liquor, keeping eye contact with her through her mask. There was a few second pause.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"To see what you're hiding under that mask. I've seen how you fight, always two steps ahead. For instance, you haven't touched that drink."
"I don't take drinks from fucking stalkers."
"I bet you would from one in particular," he said. She wanted to punch the smirk off his arrogant face. Rye made another prediction. If she left, Caustic was going to try and follow her again. Although she was confident she could outrun him, she believed in the safety of numbers and would rather wait for another person to be around as a witness.
"Has that mutt seen under the mask?" he asked. Every word out of his mouth was mocking and laced with malice.
"No one here ever will, especially you."
"Come on, give me some hints."
"Fuck off," she hissed. Caustic's face grew dark. He leaned in close and then slammed one of his boots on top of hers, grinding her toes under his heel. There were several cracks and Rye winced.
"An unknown masked woman with unexplained abilities shows up in the games out of nowhere. You didn't go through trials to get here, you were imported special. Who the fuck are you?" he whispered harshly. Rye took her other foot and drove the toe of her boot into his shin, causing him to reel back just enough for Rye to free herself. She dumped the drink he'd brought her into his lap and darted out the door. She didn't look back as she heard his chair sharply scrape the floor.
She was sitting on top of the mesa with her feet swinging off the edge when the adrenaline started to wear off. That's when the pain of broken toes kicked in. She took deep breaths as she slowly removed her boot and her sock, revealing three toes on that were purple, crooked, and swollen. Fuck. She didn't have any medical supplies with her. She could use her jump pack to descend, but landing with one good foot might be tricky. Rye hobbled over to the lean-to. She ripped some fabric off her tunic and began wrapping her toes and tethering them to the adjacent ones. When it was as good as she could get it, she bunched up some of the blankets in the lean-to, elevated her foot, and laid back.
She heard a caw echo across the flat peak of the mesa and the feathered figure of Huginn came into sight. The raven landed near her and cawed. It seemed to be eyeballing her over and hopped back and forth from her foot to her head.
