The Carnival

[Orion]

"Good show, old bean! I must say, quite a smashing display!"

Orion sat back on the wooden bench at the carnival. It was the same seat where he met Victoria, and the same seat that he led Juno to so that he could recover. For some reason, he gravitated towards it immediately after his escapade in the island jungles. Perhaps he was too dug into his old ways, becoming a creature of habit. The bench was the only thing familiar to him in this simulated earthling carnival, even if it's worth was barely there. In any case, pondering on that one seat helped to settle his thoughts.

"I do hope you'll let me tag along to your next whimsical adventure, what! My my, what excitement!"

"All right, that'll do," Orion said bluntly. "Stop gushing."

"Oh, I do apologise old sport," Sprinkles said, leaning on his diamond encrusted cane. "I've never been part of a daring pirate ship raid before, what! Quite the thrill ride."

"Yes, yes, I could imagine. Now will you just let me think?"

The space hamster wriggled his nose. "What's eating at you, old chap?"

Orion sighed. "I don't feel comfortable about spilling my innermost thoughts and feelings to a talking rodent."

"I say! I take offense at that remark, what!" Sprinkles scolded. "I helped you find the treasure, I did!"

"Don't take it personally," the saiyan returned. "I'm not big on sharing. That's all."

"Oh, one of those tall, dark, silent types, eh? You must be catnip for the ladies, what!" Sprinkles chuckled.

The truth was that Orion was unsure. What Szar attempted to do back on the island still ate at him. Since when do changelings ask for forgiveness? After all those lizards did to his people, he just expected a casual "sorry" would mend his wounded ego? No, that wouldn't happen at all. However, the very idea that a changeling would be brazen enough to apologise to a saiyan's face like that bewildered Orion to the point of agitation. Changelings weren't sympathetic. They were murderous, cold blooded tyrants that stood on anyone and everyone to achieve totalitarianism wherever they journeyed.

So how could there be a changeling that broke the mould? On a logical level, it was perfectly sane. Sentient lifeforms aren't necessarily dictated by their race, but many end up taking up the mantle of their predecessors. That made perfect sense, so why was Orion having so much trouble digesting it?

The puzzled warrior shook the issue from his head. There were more important things happening around here than just a sympathetic changeling. He won the last round, which meant that Gamer’s sick tournament must be close to completion. That assumption was made with no true information or experience at all; the last death competition he participated in, Friend or Foe 3, ended up in his own termination before he saw the game's finale. Still, he thought any reasonable man would be close to barren on new ideas for events. Only time would tell.

"Eh, old boy!" Sprinkles shouted into Orion's ear, tapping his neck with the diamond cane. "Are you still there?"

Orion cringed. "Yes! Don't talk directly into my ear again or I'll flatten you."

"I say, some gratitude," Sprinkles sulked. "I led you to the treasure earlier, what."

"I haven't flattened you yet, so count your blessings," the saiyan said churlishly.

Sprinkles ignored the comment. "So what's on the cards now, old bean?"

Orion stroked his beard. "I don't know. Perhaps a little rest would be good, for now."