Rho Salamanca

“As a kid grew up on a lot of junk food and Solaris 7 broadcasts... I think if you asked my mom, she’d probably say ‘I got into a lot of fights for a girl.’ Go figure. Never had that problem with my dad. I used to have this thing I’d do, that he taught me, to psyche myself up whenever I’d get hurt: I would always imagine I was tracking the damage to my body on a little paper doll, behind my eyelids. Lights would flash, I’d get a little readout on everything that was broken, and I’d try my best to stay upright. Really, I probably just wanted to take after my holovid heros, but the funny thing is, I’ve found over time the trick really works. I definitely took a lot more punishment than other kids my age would be expected to. It was almost like, by acknowledging the trauma in a different way, my body would cut me some slack on the pain. I kept using that trick, even as an adult, and somewhere along the way, getting banged up just became this gratifying part of a triumph. Getting into a fight, or just stepping on a rusty nail; it doesn’t matter. I would just imagine Srin Odessa knocking out Johnny Cochran with half a Marauder II or Alex Height in his Battlemaster, stalking after Joey Marcus, not running, but limping predaciously after his wounded prey before delivering that last, blistering salvo… That became my ethos: Every injury, every broken component; it’s another step in the process of hunting your opponent. And assessing each missing piece for its tactical consequence is the most ecstatic part of a fight. I don’t know if it's the soul of a gladiator, or of a wild animal, or something... but something always rises up in me when I get into those heated moments, and it always multiplies the payoff a hundred fold when the killing blow finally gets dealt… … and of course, you know, you can always cry about how bad it hurts afterwards if you’re all fucked up. I’m certainly not made of metal, or anything...”