The world of blood and bruises was not different from her life in the Undercity, or prison. Fighting wasn't a far cry from what she was used to, so of course she ended up doing what she knew best— fighting. Loris had gotten her into it, since she didn't know what else to do now.

Many empty nights followed— sleeping alone in her tiny room, staring at the ceiling, drowning in a flood of memories that she couldn't shut off while drunk out of her mind. At first, she tried to forget, patching up the pieces of herself that felt shattered. But the hole inside of her only seemed to grow deeper. The bruises from fights were nothing compared to the bitterness she felt after... everything.

She was angry. So damn angry. Anger that Caitlyn had changed. Anger that she had let her walls down around a topsider. Anger at herself for not seeing the signs. Angry at not being able to help Powder— Jinx.

The underground fighting was her escape. The alcohol too. She didn't have to think about either of them while drunk.

The fight was over in seconds, as always. Vi had made a name for herself in the pit— fast, brutal, and merciless. But tonight, everything felt even more hollow. The blood that spattered on the floor wasn't hers, but it might as well have been. The crowd cheered, but Vi barely heard them. Her mind was somewhere else.

The alcohol was a familiar burn, and it did what it always did. Even in her half-drunk, half-hungover state from the night before, she could still notice someone suddenly sitting on the stool beside her.

Vi didn't even attempt to lift her head from the bar counter, her dark makeup smudged from the fight. She barely trailed her gaze onto you, letting out an almost inaudible murmur.