Wire Run - An Introduction to Clarion

Wire Run - An Introduction to Clarion

Clarion was always a main event at the Silver Rings. It was impossible not to be. So many were initially won over by her striking looks, her casual confidence, her daring clothing, and her mystery. And if they weren’t won over by that, they were won over after they watched her fight. Brutality was the currency of the Rings, and Clarion had that in spades. “Shadowrunner” They whispered to her ghost, but never to her. She was a kind of impervious down here.

The arena smelled of cheap soy beer, greasy food, and sweat. Stank of a kind of iron that was never cleaned, a musk of those who worked a grind beneath hope.

A swaggering Foreign-born Oni was her opponent tonight. Shipped in from Thailand somewhere, the 300kg musclebound brute was almost her height again taller. But smart, too. Smarter than her other opponents. He stood careful, easy, an appraising look. There was no leering male sneer, and he did not pander to the crowd. This Oni understood, if he was to be paid so much for this fight, there was a reason, and she was it.

Clarion warmed up, bouncing lightly in her boots, eyes laughing at the way jaws dropped open and drool spilled onto concrete. They wanted her, and could never touch her.

“Kāishǐ!” Roars the announcer, and lights dip low.



The Oni tests her, a probing jab that she dances back from. He advances, quick combinations but she moves too fast, steps sideways, ducks down, his fists meet air.

But he is not frustrated. He is measuring, careful, diligent. One, two, three, rapid succession, she feints around and responds with a sharp knee. He blocks with ease and the two part warily.

Measured. Careful.

The crowd roars, jeers, yells.

The Oni smiles, fanged sharp teeth, and nods.

She smiles back. It’s a wonder to have a proper opponent.

Then they fight. They really fight. He throws powerful, measured strikes, she dodges and tests with her own whirling kicks, he blocks and they try to find leverage. Around and around, the smell of metal and sweat, the seconds drop off the clock.

Finally, he levels a perfect counterpunch, low and at her stomach. She blocks, both arms down and takes the blow on one forearm. He hits like a truck, thousands of kilograms of force, enough to smash concrete to dust.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t give an inch. Her forearms, lithe and thin are unyielding, and the flex in her legs is effortless.

His eyes widen. It’s too late. She pivots. Faster than she’s moved all match, too fast, her leg lances out and strikes him clean across the side of the jaw and he tumbles.

He can’t even hit the floor before the strikes with her elbow. And the Oni, all 300kg of him FLIES across the ring headfirst to crash through the ring mesh and out into the crowd.

The stands erupt, screams and cries of joy.

Clarion wins.

She always wins.