Day Three: Early Morning

[Burter]

Day Three
Midnight - 6 AM

"Hello everybody! It's a brand new day and more lives have been claimed. The game is drawing to a close, and here are the latest batch of victims:

#09 Celipa
#22 Uno
#28 Bubb Rubb

Once again, I will not be adding anymore danger zones at this time in the game, but more will be added next time! I'm only predicting a little bit of time left in the game so come out with the big guns!"

[Reijin]

Continued from: http://www.cdbzrpg.com/forum/showpost.ph...ostcount=8

The waves crashed around him as the broken Saiyan pushed hard against the rushing current, the lightning crashing over head. In nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts and holding his pitchfork, he screamed in fury at the gods. He was now cursing, convinced that the reinforcements nearby had been forced to move further out into calmer waters while the tempest raged.

Jun'ai was at a complete loss of words but given the situation, she had no problem continuing to try. She was extremely disheartened to find her rough warrior that had been her last resort had fallen to this, having broken down into a stuttering fool. The man had obviously been holding a lot inside, and Jun'ai had not realized that his meeting with the bottle was simply a method of him dealing with it. She had been convincing him upon their arrival that he had not gone mad... She was no longer so sure. It seemed his every action was seeking to convince her otherwise.

Reijin was now swinging his pitchfork wildly in the air, crying a mixture of obsenities and demands, as if controlling the sea itself. Jun'ai was hastily burning through his mind memory after memory now, trying to first understand all the random references he made comments about while at the same time looking for an answer to this dilemna. It seemed, however, that no matter how much she looked she could find nowhere that he'd broken to this shell of a man so hard.

"Hear me!" he cried, hoisting his pitchfork up while staring at it, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. "I have been called by the gods into service! I, King Triton, demand that you obey me!" he screamed into the wind before being forced back a step from the rushing waves. Reaching up his hand to wipe his mouth, he responded by shaking his pitchfork at the retreating water. "Yes, run coward! The sea is at my command!"

King Triton... From an old Earth myth and a children's cartoon that he'd seen with Videl one day... He'd been complaining about it the entire time to her and yet had watched the movie in its entirety after she'd gone to bed as well as a number of other Earth media he'd seen with her. He seemed to have a lot of memories of this woman, and then Jun'ai found the memories of her destruction that he'd witness himself. She gasped inside at the pain before shifting her focus back to the situation at hand. She had learned more, but... She really had no idea how to apply it to this situation to regain control of it.

By now the water was smashing into the bare chested man's chin, splashing water into his mouth before the large waves pulled back and left the man, leaning against his pitchfork in an attempt to control his weakened legs. He spewed water from his mouth before crying back at the water in anger.

Reijin! You have get out of here, do you want to be pulled under on the next wave? This is madness!

"Madness?" he growled, wondering where the voice within his head had come from. Shaking his head furiously, he thrust his weapon once more into the sky in an attempt to cull the weak from his numbers. "THIS. IS. DANTEEE!" he cried.

The ocean completely disagreed, this time striking the half naked man and launching him from his feet, leaving him struggling beneath the water to grab on to something, anything, to keep from being pulled out to sea. His fork dug deeply into the sand and he held on tightly as the water rushed past him, pulling against him so hard that he lost his undergarments to the water's grasp.

The water finally receded enough that the Saiyan was found lying in the sand, looking over to a large crab that was staring directly at him from beneath its shell. Reijin's tail waved in the air uncontrollably as it dipped down and pointed at the crab. "What do you want..." he forced out, trying to struggle for breath and a simple sentence at the same time.

Um, you might want to get the hell out of here... You nearly got pulled out this time, and the water is going back really really far this time. This next one looks to be enormous. I'm begging you, please, for both our sakes, get your ass back into that shelter!

The Saiyan could not really focus on her complaints, however, as the crab had, in an attempt to find its own hold to prevent being relocated, realized that the Saiyan's tail was a perfect hold and had wrapped its claw around it. Reijin had learned long ago to mentally overcome his race's tail weakness for a short term, but there was only so much pain a being could physically take before losing its mind. Reijin was feeling more pain now than if the crab had grabbed onto his genitals, and as a result he leapt high into the air, landing on his feet and screaming in pain as he ran blindly, somehow still holding tightly onto the pitchfork.

Jun'ai cared nothing for the methods, as long as he kept running away from the enormous crested peak that was gathering far back in the water nearby. There, up that hill, the uh... Monster crab will not be able to catch you up there! It may not have been right, but at this point she'd say anything to get him back into that cellar, whereas before she couldn't wait to get him out.

He was running mindlessly, the large crab still attached to his tail as it flailed in the wind, the completely naked Saiyan charging up the hill and gripping his fork so tightly that his knuckles were whiter than the icy water had made them, using the pole to take out his frustration from the crab. He had swung back with the weapon once to knock the crab free, but had only struck his tail instead and only increased his pain.

That flash of a glance back had revealed to Jun'ai that the wave was crashing forward, hurtling towards them as the large peak moved in to sweep them from its path. She could do nothing but hope that her idiot host would somehow focus and not do something stupid like stop to fight off the crab. Thankfully, she suddenly experienced complete vertigo as his foot found nothing but emptyness, dropping down into the hole where the trap door had been. His eyes went wide as he fell, the wave striking the door with such force that it slammed shut brutally and loudly as they tumbled, the Saiyan landing hard on his head. The last thing that either of them heard was the roar of the water rushing over the boards above, the door rattling loudly under the pressure. Then they passed out.

[Burter]

Face to Face

Android 17, Bardock, Minoshia, Violet

Easter Egg Special: Ki Rocket Launcher

The gun was placed in the middle of what used to be a busy intersection. It was much skinnier then previous versions of the Rocket Launcher, seeming to only one missle at a time. It was sitting atop it's handle, waiting for the winner of the fight to claim it.

They all saw each other miles away. The saiyan/human team of Bardock and Violet came from the west, their bags having been left elsewhere. Violet was holding her nail gun to the ground as Bardock kept his axe reclined over his neck, pointed to the air. They could clearly see their opponents as they made a beeline towards the weapon laying in the middle of an intersection.

Minoshia and Android 17 could recognize both faces instantly. Seventeen had history with the purple-haired girl, while Minoshia could point out the man who stole his championship the year prior.

"Seventeen," Violet said, as the two pairs at the intersection, on opposite ends of the prone rocket launcher. The cyborg made no sign that he had any idea who she was. "Don't you remember me?"

He finally gazed at her, across the gun to her face. "I remember you," he said firmly. "I just don't care."

Bardock's eyes moved to the opponent's hands. Seventeen had what appeared to be a bent skin wrapped into his belt, so his hands were free. Minoshia, the Konat that many feared in the Abyss, was gripping a baseball bat that could do some legitimate damage. He was sure his axe was going to prove more useful.

"We didn't come here to chat," Minoshia spoke up. "So let's get on with it!"

All four moved in at once. Minoshia slid his body down into a baseball slide and used his foot to kick the rocket launcher in the air. Bardock's axe came down, clanging the blade with the metal of the bat. Minoshia expertly used his feet to kick the saiyan aside and grab onto the bazooka, rolling up onto both feet.

Knowing how Seventeen was going to approach the fight, Violet split into two, one holding onto her nail gun, and double-teamed against him. The cyborg easily blocked a knee and thudded into the clones forehead. Minoshia, at the same time, was about to get tackled by Bardock so he tossed the rocket launcher to his partner.

As if someone had just pressed a button, Violet's clones smashed together and snatched the rocket launcher out of the air. She ran towards a shattered bus laying at the street corner, leaping onto the front hood and then onto the roof of it, rolling as she lost her balance in the confusion. Seventeen was already giving chase, smoothly jumping from platform to platform to catch her on the roof.

Violet spun around, bazooka pointed down and nail gun pointed right at the chest of what used to be her best friend.

Down on the ground, Minoshia and Bardock were both screaming with the fury of transformation. Sparks began to fly around the glowing, golden-topped saiyan while blood-shaded energy floated rapidly around the Konat. The cement under them was starting to crack just under the sheer weight, until finally they both lept forward, cracking axe against baseball.

"Why are you doing this?!" Violet shouted from on top of the bus. "Fighting me, teaming with Minoshia. When did you become the villain?"

"Silly girl," Seventeen murmured, barely above a whisper. "Is that how you see things? Villain and hero...evil and good. Need I remind you, you're the one who left me!"

Violet let out a yelp as Seventeen lept forward, spinning around expertly to avoid being pummeled by the nail. Now with his upgrades activated, she stood no chance as a hand smashed across her jaw, causing her to release the bazooka and throw it aside.

Bardock was kicked hard in the chest by Minoshia, but it allowed him to catch the thrown rocket launcher. Minoshia ran forward, leaping over the axe slash of the Super Saiyan and slamming his foot in his bony face. He came down, bringing the baseball bat onto the warrior's hand and crushing Bardock's hand. In retaliation, the sparking Super Saiyan lunged Minoshia towards the bus, smashing him into the front.

The bus rocked a bit as the Konat slammed into it. Violet was no match for her overpowered friend, so she looked down upon the roof of the bus. Thinking quick, she released some nails down upon Seventeen's feet, which he lept over and kicked her backwards, causing her to flap her newly grown wings. The beautiful purple-haired girl raised up and then slammed downwards, cracking her cyborg friend and smashing them both through the damaged roof and inside.

At that time, Bardock was aiming the bazooka, unaware of Violet's intrusion into the bus. He pulled the trigger.

Minoshia saw the missile coming and instantly spun around, noting the rocket-propelled ki grenade as it soared past his body. "Seventeen!" He shouted in warning as the missile headed right the bus.

"Violet!" Bardock roared over the screaming of the launched rocket. "Get out of there!"

The cyborg was the first to notice as he spun around to the center of the bus, looking helpless indoors. When the connection was made, the explosion hit at the exposed engine of the beat-down truck and erupted, blasting in his direction. There was no where for the android to run, instead he just took the brunt of the fiery explosion, his mechanical parts melting or blasting off of his body.

Violet flapped her wings to move to the back of the bus, though despite her speed she was still caught in the explosion. Bardock's eyes could hardly react properly as he saw his best friend get caught in the explosion, her body spitting out of the back of the flames and landing hard on the cement.

Minoshia got a frontal blast right in his pointed face. After his eyes and nose were seared, he put his hand up and lept off, stumbling away. Bardock had no way to give chase as he ran to his friend.

"Vi!" He was shouting, "Violet!" He knelt down, his eyes wide as his golden aura licked at her body. "Violet! VIOLET!"

One eye lazily opened. "...You don't gotta...shout...dummy."

#02 Android 17 DEAD

14 Remain

Minoshia is blind. Major injury. 2 OOC days tired

Violet has been caught in a explosion. Major injury. 1 OOC day tired

Bardock's hand is broken. Minor injury. 2 OOC days tired

The boomerang is gone. Bardock has the Ki Rocket Launcher

[Burter]

Face to Face

Burter, Petunia

It was a handy trick he had learned.

While alone on the island, Burter had decided to do what any warrior would do. Train. Rather then focus on building up his already huge muscles, or concentrate on the speed of his already lightning quick legs, he focused on his ki control, and learned how to do an impressive technique.

At this moment, Burter was using a very thin strand of ki to levitate a tiny chunk of wood off of a stump, and using his hand he was able to make it dance, like a puppet master.

Suddenly someone stepped into his clearing, causing him to look over. Quickly using his new power, he dropped the piece of wood and grabbed his scythe, summoning it up into his hand without actually touching it. The new figure was a saiyan woman, one he had seen briefly in the barracks before the game began.

"Heh," she said, "Not exactly trying to hide yourself."

"No need," Burter shrugged.

The woman, Petunia, held out a spoon like it was a weapon. "Well, you're just as good a first victim as ANY!" She shouted, leaping forward and throwing his fist down, holding the spoon.

Burter expertly spun the left, his scales tightening against his skin to avoid being cut. Using his wrist, he brought the scythe down and sliced at her neck, just enough to slash at her collar, and then lept forward to roll out of the way.

This one little confrontation left Petunia hearing a beeping noise. She looked up to see Burter watching from off to the side, as if nothing had happened. Then her hand came to her collar, which had been slashed across the console of it, just enough to detonate it.

"Oh, shi--"

Another explosion rang out in the Abyss.

#29 Petunia DEAD

13 Remain

The spoon is lost

[Bardock]

Bardock couldn’t help but let out a pent-up breath. Despite the pain that coursed through his now broken hand, he scooped her up in his arms, the rocket launcher slung over his shoulder. His thoughts were no longer focused on catching Minoshia, but getting them the hell out of there. This wasn’t too difficult, as they were immediately teleported back to their original location, prize in hand. Once more, they had walked away with the trophy, but this time at a much greater cost. Bardock felt Violet’s form revert to normal as her transformation melted away. She groggily clutched at his chest, so he held her closer. He looked down as the raindrops from the storm began to pummel them both, drenching them in its torrential downpour. She was badly burned. The fighter looked up, his golden aura a bright beacon in the darkness. Where could they go?

Blindly, he began running forward, and stumbled across their bags, which had been teleported with them.

“Bardock…” she groaned weakly.

“Hang on,” he answered, adjusting her weight as he set her gently down on the ground. He picked up their bags and flung them both over his already aching body, then knelt down and cradled the human once more. His chest heaved and his body felt heavy. He hadn’t had much practice using his ascended Super Saiyan form, and the effort to maintain control over it was quickly sapping the last of his strength.

“Just keep holding onto me,” he instructed firmly, trying to convince himself just as much as her. She’d been tough, as tough as he now knew she could be. He had to try to do the same.

Fortune smiled upon him as lightning cracked across the sky, revealing the silhouette of a run-down hunting lodge. Immediately, Bardock trudged over to the entrance and shakily kicked in the door. He fumbled around in the dark, tripping over old, dusty furniture. With a grunt, he exerted more energy to make his saffron glow even brighter. In a corner, there was an overstuffed couch.

Gingerly, he set her down, and sagged his shoulders to let the duffel straps roll off and onto the floor. The roughneck unzipped his and pulled out a lantern he’d grabbed from the sporting goods store. With trembling fingers and a determined expression, he figured out the mechanism and illuminated the bulb, setting it on the nearby table. The old, creaky room was immediately lit up.

“I’m okay…I’m okay…” Violet slowly exhaled.

Bardock turned around and examined the extent of her burns, tenderly massaging his wounded hand. She’d been seriously messed up. Suddenly, no longer able to sustain his golden power, Bardock’s aura slowly vanished, and his hair returned to their ordinary black spikes. As his immense strength faded, so too, did he. He swayed for a moment, and then crouched down on the floor and leaned against the table, facing the human.

That battle had been…intense. Exactly the fix they’d been looking for, and perhaps a little more than they bargained. But those were the rules of the game. Everyone had willingly signed their life away, and they had to be willing to take all the risk that was involved. Bardock smirked, still breathing raggedly as he let out a soft chuckle.

I got him again… he thought, replaying the bold shot of the bazooka. Then again, he’d almost taken out his partner, which was a much more sobering thought. He’d stopped breathing, his heart had stopped beating when the explosion engulfed her fleeing form. He hadn’t…expected to be as affected as he was. It was just the heat of the moment, and felt something slipping away as every second ticked by. Now, the fighter was much calmer, much more composed.

Bardock poked through his bag once more and produced the blanket. When he turned back to face Violet, he noticed she was becoming awake and alert, and her face was full of contemplation. The brawler could only guess what was going through her mind. His mind was racing as well. He had enjoyed the rush of battle, balked at the thought of her death, and knew how important their aftermath moves would be. Safety and recovery had to be ensured, so they were going to have to lay low for a while.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Bardock joked, attempting to make light of the situation. His humor didn’t seem to be settling in well. “Violet…I…”

But he didn’t know what to say. He was just liable to make things worse, and he didn’t want to admit how he had felt. The saiyan reminded himself it was only a game, and that they would both come out the other side one way or another. Instead, he placed the blanket over her and sat back, trying to push his own hurting and fatigue out of his brain.

[Violet]

Words weren’t needed to express the emotion that soared through her right now. The simple fact that he had let an almost guaranteed kill go free all to check on her welfare spoke volumes more than what any mere sentiments could do justice for. She was grateful not only that her life remained intact, but that of her rather perplexing partner’s, as well. Well, more than grateful, she was ecstatic. They had lived to see another day, which had crept in on stormy feet, the winds of the tempest whipping the tattered curtains wildly as it seeped in through broken panes of the windows. They were safe, they were together, and that, in this moment, were all that mattered.

Scooting back against the dusty back of the couch, she pulled her blanket back and padded the empty space in front of her with a blistered hand. “There’s more room on here, Bar. I know it’s not the best arrangement in the world, and I know how you are with being this close to other people, but it sure beats the hell out of sleeping on the floor again.”

Despite his better judgment, he crawled onto the couch, his back to her as she lowered the blanket around them. There was only one, and she knew that he deserved it much more than she did, hell right now, the burns were producing enough heat on their own to keep her warm. A small gap remained between their bodies, but that was quickly filled when she stretched her lithe form against his back, one arm resting along her side, the other beneath her head to serve as a pillow. He settled in against her, his eyes drifting closed while holding his injured hand against his chest. He was far too exhausted to protest this rather unconventional breach of his personal space, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain. Instead, he drifted off to sleep, the warm press of her body against his back a comforting presence to his weary form.

Violet laid in the darkness for a while, her eyes open, listening to his soft snores as the storm raged on outside. The raindrops pelted the metal roof above, a macabre lullaby to accompany the rare moment between the two shifting souls. Letting her hand glide slowly around his waist, she wove her fingers into the soft material of his shirt. His presence was a welcome one, comforting, safe. He was her island in the middle of the ocean, the safe harbor from the shark infested depths.

“Thanks for coming with me, Bar. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Her soft whisper barely reached through the gauzy veil of sleep, but he had heard them. His good hand clutched hers, and they slept.


* * * * * * * * * * *

Stubbing the burning end of his cigar out in the marble ashtray, the infuriated changeling growled menacingly at the latest developments of his ex and her partner. By some lucky stroke of fucking luck, they managed to scrape by what by all logical means, should have been their end. Instead, it was that android she had spoken of so much, back in her ‘glory days’ when she was still associated with the famous Civil Unrest clan. The monkey man had blasted a deadly projectile at the already dilapidated skeleton of the bus, of which, Violet had also been in. Instead of her going down in the flaming inferno, it was the android, and she lived once more to tell the tale.

“Damn her, damn HIM.” He cursed beneath his breath. His eyes were two points of fire as he watched the aftermath, watched the intimacy of the moment as they settled in for the night. In the pit of his stomach, anger stewed, with just a little jealousy to add spice to this particular soup. “They were supposed to die. I paid those motherfuckers far too much for an early death, and yet, they still can’t bring themselves to kill off their moneymakers. Money grubbing bastards.”

The screen suddenly flicked to other teams, all in various states of health and situations. A few interested him, either because of their tactics, or their chemistry; he especially loved the taco idea that one of the other Saiyans had come up with. The expression on his blonde companion’s face made him chuckle. What a waste of cells. he thought darkly at the thought of their species. He hated them enough, but they did provide some top notch entertainment.

A knock at the door drew him from his reverie. Quickly melting back into his blonde haired human form, he invited the intruder inside. His face brightening with mock enthusiasm, Surreo welcomed the Chief of Staff of the Japanese Naval Command. Today, negotiations that would ultimately spell death to half the continent would be sealed, the ignorant human would be none the wiser as he signed his people’s lives away.

The papers were drawn, signed, and dated. The day was looking up for the disturbed Changeling. Now, if only he could do something about them damned pests Violet and her pet Saiyan, Bardock. In time, all in time, he thought to himself. All in good time.

[Bardock]

“Oi, what did I miss, what did I miss?” Smitty asked anxiously as he ran back into the room, still pulling up his pants and zipping them.

“They both died,” Sky answered instantly and convincingly. Kayley playfully smacked the first mate on the shoulder.

“Oh-wha?! No bloody way!” Smitty gaped, completely falling for it.

“It was touch and go for a moment,” Briggs hissed. “But they’re alive. Things are going…pretty well…”

Kayley nodded enthusiastically at the medic, who frowned, lining his plain face with irritation at the joke. Sky shrugged, suggesting that he shouldn’t take bathroom breaks during the good parts. The crew yawned, realizing how late they had stayed up just to watch the suspenseful encounter. They felt just as exhausted as the pair they were rooting for. One at a time, they shuffled off to their rooms, leaving the television on as a few hours later, more scenes began to unfold.


---------


It felt…nice. He hadn’t slept like this in a long time, and although his thoughts were filled with discomfort, they where outweighed by the warmth next to him. Bardock had been too tired to object, anyway, and quality rest was going to be important in the next couple of days to come. Even if he wanted to, he probably could not bring out his full strength for a bit, which left him decidedly vulnerable. Despite all that, if those bastards wanted a go, he was going to give them a go, no ifs, ands, or buts. He just preferred to arrange the meetings on his terms.

The saiya-jin’s eyes flickered open as if bidden by some automatic internal alarm clock. He’d been drilled long ago in his military days not to sleep too deeply for more than a couple of hours at a time in a warzone, and the practice had stuck with him the rest of his days. Senses were initially sluggish, but rapidly sharpened, as they’d been conditioned to do. Eyes, ear, and scouter gave him a read-out of the hunting lodge and the surrounding area. No danger was present, so he eased up a little, dragging his feet in the moment.

This year’s tournament had proved to be groundbreaking, in more ways than one. It was just a shame that it wasn’t going to last. When the Abyss ended, when it swallowed them all in its bloody depths, so too ended the life-altering encounters the tournament held. Truly, for once, Bardock was going to leave with more than he entered aside from a few more kills scribbled on his long list. Whatever that was going to be, was still yet to be determined.

Bardock lay silently for a moment, functioning hand still clutching the human’s. Not in a thousand years did he ever think he was going to see himself here. Leisurely, the fighter guided her hand away from his body and released it, sliding off the couch without stirring his sleeping companion. There was still the matter of supplies to be contended with. He fished out his empty water bottles, and swiftly exited the lodge, needing to find a clean source of water and some food within a short amount of time. The black, heavy thunderheads had mildly subsided, leaving only a thin drizzle of mist in place of the horrible squall.

By the time he returned, dawn was threatening to crack, the hours of the early morning waning. Although it was risky, he needed to try and chance a few more winks of sleep before attempting to move.

He replaced his now-full water bottles back in his bag, but alas had come empty-handed in ways of food. Muttering to himself, Bardock resigned to just finishing off the surely stale supply of bread that was left. The fighter dimmed the lantern, mistakenly reaching out with his busted hand. He observed it in the light. It was rendered practically useless, already swelling up in ugly black and blue hues swatched with red. Bardock tried unsuccessfully to flex his fingers, grimacing as a jolt of discomfort paralyzed the muscle and bone. His eyes roved to his bag, where the medical kit was stashed. There weren’t many valuables left in the case. Hearing the gentle breathing of the girl, his eyes now beheld her sleeping figure. So many choices had been presented to him, so many choices that had to be made.

“Bardock…?” Violet mumbled sleepily as she realized something was missing on the couch.

The saiyan’s tail twitched before he consciously coiled it around his waist. “Everything’s good. Go back to sleep.”

He crawled back on the couch, resuming his previous position, hands held and all. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, once more feeling the warmness. He wondered what the battlefield had next in store for them, and how tragically this was all going to be pulled apart.

[Kirano]

From the distressful look on Aero’s face, it was clear he still grieved over the death of his comrade Celipa. He had not witnessed Aero in such an emotional state, but the green haired man was strong, that much Kirano had gathered, therefore he believed that the cyan haired man would come around. He had to be mentally as strong as he was physically if he wanted to survive. Lord Vine mentored Kirano with the belief that a warrior must control their emotions, even though the former student still struggled to. Aero would see the saiyaness again, that was all that really mattered.

Kirano pictured Aero with the fallen saiyaness in his arms, lowering himself in order to gently and respectfully place her body next to an insignificant rock. Kirano imagined the same scene only with Android Seventeen in his arms, he gently placing the androids lifeless body beside the rock. He quickly freed his mind of that tragic image. Back during the fight on Arlia he had promised to take down the Construct in order to protect earth. He accomplished that goal, but lost his best friend in the process.

The image involving Seventeen, jumping in front of the Constructs blast in order to save him still bothered him till this day.

Seventeen you fool. Why did you have to do it? I could take care of myself. I didn’t need you foolishly jumping in the way. He even…

He did not even want to think about the past, Seventeen, giving up his life in order for Kirano to leave Arlia alive.

That son of a bitch, Seventeen. What am I to you, your equal, or a common citizen you just felt like giving up your life for? I sure as hell don't feel like your equal. I feel like shit. Even worse, that dirt beneath the bottom of a shoe.

Kirano’s fists tightened in anger at the realization of his life being saved twice that very day in the hands of the android. He had not gotten the chance to tell Seventeen how degraded he felt. His pride refused himself to confront the android concerning the events which occurred on that day. Pride had prevented him from telling Seventeen that he was the one who should have died for best friend, not the other way around.

Me... Me... Me. I should have been the martyr, not you.

Then there was Bra.

Stupid girl…

He had not known the saiyan Princess for long, but without doubt she was the only person he had connected with amongst all the other warriors who fought against the construct. She had given up her life also. He was left back on earth to face up to the reality that they were both gone, dead for what, saving his behind.

Fuck that. I didn’t ask them to do a kamikaze…but they did it…they did it on their own accord… he managed to realize. How would he cure his mortifying feeling? He could not, that was the answer.

“You alright?” Aero asked, causing the angered human to break his thought.

Kirano gazed at Aero with lost eyes for a moment. There was something he needed to ask the man. “That girl, Celipa, who was she to you?”

“A friend,” the man replied, in quieter tone. “In such a short time we really got to bond.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“Then,” said Kirano, turning his face away from Aero’s direction, still a little angered, “I know exactly what you’re going through.”

“You do?” Aero wondered. He had not known Kirano that long and was therefore unaware of the man’s true friends.

“What? You don’t think I have someone close to me?”

“I guess we all do.” There was a moment of silence; the only sounds heard were their steady breathing and the chirping of morning birds. “Is it someone in DA?” Aero wondered.

“Yeah… anyway,” replied Kirano, with the intent of changing the subject. “Like you said, we shouldn’t let our guard down.”

“Right,” replied Aero, who easily figured out that his new companion did not want to dwell on the past. The feeling was mutual for the cyan haired man.

Kirano suddenly froze for a moment.

“What’s up now?” Aero wondered.

“Oh it’s nothing,” he lied, laughing to add convincement. He had a bad feeling about Seventeen.

Is he…?

If Seventeen had died again, fake or not, he would unleash hell, fire and brimstone that would not strike from beneath, but instead descend from the sky above like a meteor, onto the killer(s).

[Orion]

The clapping died down as a camera zoomed in on him, operated by a bipedal horse. The surroundings of the game show had altered, but only slightly, to what appeared to be a large lounge room with huge windows to the back, overlooking the sparkling lights of a metropolis at midnight. Orion sat behind a wide, mahogany desk with a stack of papers underneath his clasped hands. His hair had morphed from his normal, layered black hair to short, curly brown hair, completely unlike any style of his race. A sudden gap appeared between his front teeth, and he had the urge to act in a way that conflicted with his normal behaviour.

For now, he gave into it. "Welcome back," he spoke, his tone informal and breezy.

He looked beyond Seventeen, his only guest sitting in the aforementioned chair to Orion's right, to a large ensemble of humans wielding instruments such as guitars, drums and brass instruments. The leader of the musicians, another carbon copy of Seventeen, was at the head of them behind a keyboard. Well, he was identical to Seventeen, except that he was completely bald and sported perfect circle glasses.

"OK, let's hear tonight's Top Ten!" Orion declared, the crowd applauding as the orchestra played the intro for the segment. "Tonight's Top Ten iiiiiiis..." he elongated the last word to create suspense, "possibilities for Rad to lose!"

Despite not knowing who Rad was, Orion felt he was the authority on dispensing jokes on this contestant's chances. On a nearby monitor, a pretty graphical representation appeared and each answer faded upon it as the saiyan read it out.

"Number ten, gets distracted by a rogue thought about tacos; number nine," he said, the crowd laughing after each line. "His hair becomes sentient and chokes him; number eight, tries to turn on his group but they're ready for him; number seven, ingests taco despite the fact that he knows its poisoned; number six, tries to play frisbee with his collar and instead is left to play 52 pickup with fragments of his skull; number five, calling Eightzu fat and kicking his own ass; number four, gets bored and wanders off into a danger zone just to see how it feels; number three, the waffles Rad made orphans of finally find him and beat him up; number two, Karl Jak decides that he's found his new 'life partner'..."

"And the number one possibility of Rad losing Dante's Abyss is ... ingesting a taco despite the fact that he knows it's poison!"

The crowd clapped excitedly again, intertwining with the fanfare Schaffer-Seventeen and his band produced.

Orion laughed at himself a little longer. "He sure loves those tacos, huh? Tonight's guest is an interesting fellow. He's just entered a contest called Dante's Abyss for the third time, hoping to win ... or is he? Everyone, please give a warm hand for Seventeen!"

Seventeen nodded his head to the eruption of applause, in fact the loudest bout of cheer the show had received thus far.

"Thank you, thank you," he said with a smile on his face. "So, why was there a joke about Rad eating a poisoned taco twice?"

"Oh, that's to emphasise the fact that he loves tacos," Orion answered.

"Yeah, he sure does love those tacos," Shaffer-Seventeen added superfluously.

"Ah yes, yes," Seventeen remarked.

"Oh, Orion? I've done up a quick salute to tacos, if you'd like to hear it," the bald headed Schaffer knock off offered.

"Why not?" he responded, motioning with his hand.

He started pounding the keyboard, creating a light hearted tune as he sung, "Raaaaad, and those crazy tacos!" He repeated the same line three times before singing it again an octave higher.

Orion caught himself. He finally gained a hold of himself, realising that his mind was becoming too involved within Seventeen's. The mind meld was great to get to the inner person, but staying within the subconscious for too long, and allowing themselves to become part of the proceedings. Orion realised, thankfully, that he was in the best position now to start asking the questions he wanted to.

"So, Seventeen, your third year in Dante's Abyss," he began, playing the Earthling entertainment character as best he could, "are you enjoying it so far?"

"Enjoying might be stretching it a bit," he began, placing one foot upon the knee of his other leg. "But all in all, it hasn't been a horrible experience."

Orion noticed a form of lucidity that Seventeen was beginning to display more consistently. The mystery only seemed to get deeper.

"Well, if it was I guess you wouldn't be returning," the saiyan host replied, making a note of it himself. "Do you remember the fight that you and I were in?"

"Ah, that green guy," Seventeen said, as if recalling a distant but fond memory. "Yes, I believe he jumped you, then ..." His optimistic facade suddenly fell, his recollection returning nothing. "Uh ..."

Orion noted his reaction with intrigue.

"Well, he must've got burnt or something, 'cause then he was on the ground without a head. So, I don't know." He put his hands behind his head, acting casual and carefree again. "Did you see it?"

He doesn't remember it? the veteran warrior thought to himself. He was the one who killed him, but he can't recall it? Orion looked around the studio for a moment, but there was no one else there. If he was schitzophrenic, there should've been another manifestation nearby.

"What actually happened was this," the saiyan responded, pointing to a descending monitor that was being fed the memory of Retane's fiery death as he remembered it. Seventeen watched himself pull the trigger of the ki gun and obliterate the Namekian foe with a mixture of horror and confusion. The crowd was silent.

"So," Orion took a breath, prepared to get the answer he was after all along, "how is it that you changed from an incompetent fighter to a sharpshooting sniper?"

[Aero]

A breeze passed through the area, whipping up around the two, and then fading away into the night. It was chilly, like all the other nights on the island. Aero was no astronomer, but wagered that a new day was beginning. He had already managed to survive two rough days, but was aware that the next few days would be the most difficult to fight through. It was something that he welcomed with outspread arms.

The injury that he had sustained was beginning to leave a soreness that travelled throughout his entire leg. He still had some Bourbon left, and used that to douse his thigh. It washed away the blood, revealing the meaty muscle that the bullets had entered. He cringed, like Celipa before him.Removing the bullets shot through his mind, but shotguns didn’t leave bullets, they left a multitude of pellets, which he would have to pick out individually. He decided to just let them be; he was still able to walk, and that was all that mattered at this point. He ripped off a piece of his jacket, wrapping it around his thigh and firmly tying it, concealing the wound. The piece of cloth absorbed the blood instantly, leaving small markings of crimson on its white exterior. He was uncertain of how it would affect him in the future of the competition, but there was no need to dwell on something he was incapable of controling. All that he could control was the way he moved to protect the injury.

Kirano simply watched. He was no doctor, so his opinion on wounds wouldn’t be valid. He wagered that he and his turquoise-haired counterpart had equal medical knowledge—the basics.

Aero spewed a stream of spittle; the wind carried it away. “So, what now?” He removed his ragged jacket (he had ruined it after ripping off large portions of it to use as makeshift bandages) and tossed it onto the grassy earth; his chest exposed.

“Not sure,” Kirano blandly replied, looking to the stars. “Just staying alive would be the best option.”

“Tch. That’s no fun,” Aero muttered, placing a fist against his hip. “Well, I thi—“

“Hello everybody!” the sky boomed. It was the monotonous, idiotic voice of Karl Jak. He refused to let everyone be, even if it was only for half a day, craving to have his voice heard, though aware of how exasperating it was. “It’s a brand new day and more lives have been claimed.” A few girlish giggles echoed across the island. They were high-pitched and just as annoying as his voice, if not more. “The game is drawing to a close and more lives have been claimed.“ The sky went awkwardly silent, but then a subtle “yay” was heard. He then proceeded to call the names of the victims.

Number nine, Celipa; number twenty-two, Uno; number twenty-eight, Bubb Rubb. Aero slurred gibberish as he heard the first two names called off of the list; he felt nothing for the last name called. Aero retrieved the map he had acquired from Vazko’s bag before dying and, since he didn’t have a writing utensil, scratched a faint rip through their names, except for Celipa’s. “You’re still here, to me at least.” He tucked the map back into his pocket, taking out the fork—Celipa’s idol—and gazing at it. It was still stained with Uno’s blood. “You’re right here.”

“We’re a strong group,” Kirano said, fiddling with his pistol. “We could probably survive most attacks at this point.” He paused. “Barring some of the elite fighters in this competition.”

“Like that saiyan dude and Seventeen?”

Kirano paused again. “Yes, like Seventeen.” He almost felt certain of the android’s demise as he said his name audibly. “Just like Seventeen.”

“Well—“ Aero pointed a thumb at the shotgun that hung across his back “—we should be in pretty good shape having this bugger.”

“Yeah,” Kirano agreed. “Plus I can feel the fatigue wearing off of me. I think I could probably muster up the strength for another brutal battle.”

“Hell yeah. I’m ready to get some revenge.” Aero revealed his cockiness, bouncing around like a boxer, throwing swift jabs into the breeze, fork grasped in his fist. “That’s for you, Seventeen,” he remarked, as he tried a haymaker. “Bastard leave a job undone, eh? I’ll teach you to finish what you started.”

“Okay, let’s move out,” Kirano remarked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking off. Aero followed beside him.

“Let’s get this party started.”

[Zangya]

How she ended up back in the city she would never be able to tell you. It simply happened—she walked solemnly across the island, somehow entangling herself in the massive maze of skyscrapers and cemented roads. However she’d gotten here didn’t matter now, though—now, she was here, and she had to make the best of her situation. Her wounds pained her, and she reached down to caress the bullet hole in her knee with her good arm.

She collapsed, lying up against the nearest building—she used her good arm to hold her wounded knee in place, and let the arm that Kirano had shot up fall limp to her side, and then let her head hang back. She gazed into the sky, wondering why this was happening to her—why she was the one in so much pain. She was not fit to be in this competition anyways, so why was she always the one cursed with immense torture instead of death?

Death. That made her ears perk up—from what she could see, the moon was nearly at the middle point in the sky—which meant that sometime soon, Karl Jak’s flamboyantly homosexual voice would come on over the megaphones, and reveal to her and the remaining competitors who had died yesterday. She had to know. The only two people whose names she were certain wouldn’t be on that list were hers and Kirano’s—she had to know if Aero and Celipa were okay.

“Hello everybody!” he said. There it was: the day’s announcements were beginning, so Zangya looked up towards the nearest megaphones, her nerves jumping at the sound of his voice. “It’s a brand new day and more lives have been claimed. The game is drawing to a close, and here is the latest batch of victims: number-nine, Celipa; number-twenty-two, Uno; and number-twenty-eight, Bubb Rubb.”

Celipa. The Saiyan woman’s name was recited so calmly, so nonchalantly, over the intercom—as if it meant nothing to the man who was reciting it. She had died. Well, it may not have meant much to Karl Jak, but Zangya became speechless the moment the woman’s name came from the lips of Karl Jak. Celipa was dead; and she knew it was probably her fault. If she hadn’t killed Bojack, if she hadn’t been so impulsive… maybe she could’ve been there to die instead.

Uno. Uno was a different case—the green-skinned girl’s feelings over his death were drastically different than the ones she held for Celipa. She actually felt a feeling which related much to joy rise up in her stomach the moment that ‘number-twenty-two, Uno’ was recited over the intercom. She was just sad that he had taken Celipa with him when he died. Aero must’ve killed him, because she couldn’t see Aero killing Celipa. Celipa’s murderer had been Uno.

The Ader sighed. Fifteen people left—Zangya had made it halfway through this game, but at the cost of an enemy and at the cost of a friend. She hadn’t made friends last year, she hadn’t felt any feelings like this; loss was something so unfamiliar to her, so foreign. She would have to learn to deal with it, she guessed. She couldn’t stand. Not only from her wounds, but from the emotional baggage that had just been dropped on her—she merely sat there, weeping, for hours.

[Violet]

She’d dreamt it a thousand times over, the same morbid scene she’d seen with her own two eyes, one she’d actually lived through despite the odds. It was the day of her wedding.

Before her were her family and friends, all crowded into the tiny church that Sunday afternoon to watch the union between one of Japan’s elite Masters of the Art and the Red Ribbon’s prized trainer. All in attendance fawned over the bride-to-be, watching her nervous shuffle down the narrow aisle towards the man that would soon become her husband, and the father of the child nestled secretly within her womb. Nobody knew this secret, only she and the tiny soul were the only ones aware of the changes going on inside her body.

Her hand moved unconsciously down to caress the tiny swelling of her stomach, wondering about tonight when she would break the news to her beloved. She’d had it all planned: when they shipped off to Vegetasei for their honeymoon, tonight, whilst they dined, she would tell him the delicious story of how their lives would once again be changed by the new life forming inside of her.

Tonight, it was more than just another chapter in their book, it was a new beginning for all three of them.

The scene melted into darkness, the walls of the church narrowed, became higher, more ominous; the once white stucco of its finish transitioned into black marble, recesses carving into it, a mysterious red glow filling the hollow spaces. She was in a corridor that went on forever, all alone save for the dull, lifeless eyes that peered back from her from the relief. She couldn’t place the faces, they were all quickly forgotten as she advanced down the hallway.

”Hey!” the hollow voice echoed down the hallway, ”Hey!! How’d you get in here?”

Scanning the area as far as the ambient light would allow her, Violet tried to find where the voice had come from. It certainly hadn’t come from her. Male, definitely male.

”Get out of here! You don’t belong in here!” the distorted voice boomed.

Her footsteps were like the tinkling of change as they reverberated off of the thick walls. Moving further down the corridor, she searched for the owner of that voice. She was met, however, by a barricade of solid steel. Blocked. It hadn’t been there a few moments before.

”I told you once to leave, now leave!”

“Who are you? I’ve never heard you in here before.” Her fingers touched the impenetrable steel, the shininess marred by deep gashes and scrapes, in some parts, a dark red liquid seeped from the ‘wounds’, falling in heavy drops to the marble floor. She touched the liquid, still warm, but not really fresh. These were old wounds.

”Of course you haven’t. This isn’t even your dream, or your mind that you’re in right now.” the masculine voice replied coldly. ”Go back to where you belong, and stay the fuck out of my head.”

It came to her like a slap across the face. “…Bardock?”

“It took you this long to figure it out?” Stepping from within the steel, the familiar form of her Saiyan protector came forth, a look of pure vehemence painted across his stark features. His hands were whole, unbroken as they clenched at his sides, his muscles working as they tried desperately to control the pent up rage threatening to spill from him.

“How…how did I get in here?” she asked softly, her eyes wavering beneath his icy glare. If this was his mind, then how in the hell did she get here? Was there a way out?

“Beats me, but you need to leave. You don’t need to know what lies behind these walls.”

“But I want to know, Bar. I want to know you. Please, please let me in.” she was suddenly there, mere inches from his menacing form. His breath was hot as it stirred the wispy hairs across her forehead. One hand reached up to touch the firm angle of his jaw, the tips of her delicate fingers slid along the angular plane, her palm finally resting to cup the side of his face. She drew his face downwards towards hers, her eyes locked onto his. “Please?”

His breathing was hard and ragged as he looked down at the pleading in her eyes. She was so close, the gentleness in which she touched him made him wonder if this was truly real, or if it was all illusion. Only one way to find out.

Unclenching his fists, he clutched onto her hips and smashed her skinny frame against his larger one, his body one line of fire as her skin touched his in the most personal of ways, she’d come the closest any other living being had ever been to him, and right now, all he wanted was to feel her against him, whispering his name in the silken purr of hers once again. An illusion couldn’t feel this good, could it?

Reveling in his closeness, even if he didn’t answer her plea, seemed to satisfy the young woman more than anything. Her hand fell away from his face, trailing downwards along his breastplate to rest at the hem of his pants. Her hand slid beneath the bottom of his shirt, caressing the sensitive skin that laid below, her fingertips like electrodes as they set electrical impulses riding through his body. In one fiery move, his lips crushed hers, locked into an embrace only two beings like they could do. It felt wonderful, his touch made her feel as if something deep within her snapped back into place, completing the puzzle that he’d strewn across the floor of her soul.

His lips trailed down her neck, locking onto the frantic pulsebeat just above her collarbone. Teeth skimmed that tender skin, his tongue flitting out to taste the sweetness of her flesh. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her head fell backwards, the long spill of her hair tumbling down her back. Suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes wide with wonder. “This isn’t real;” he whispered, voice shaken. “This isn’t real!”



She was drugged by the still warm touch of his lips as he broke the contact between them. The wall melted away, and she was back into the safe harbors of her own mind. His image faded away as she slowly regained consciousness, eyes flickering open just as the soft grey light of dawn infiltrated the small building. He was still there, deep in his realm of sleep, oblivious to where her mind had taken her.

Laying there in the newborn rays of light, Violet remained silent, her head propped onto the curve of her arm, listening to each intake of breath he took. It was hard to stomach, but during the course of this game, something had happened. She feared what this new feeling was, knowing that it could only end up one way, and she just couldn’t allow that to happen. He was a solitary warrior, with no need of more baggage added to his already towering leviathan of problems.

She wanted him, oh so bad, but she just couldn’t allow it. She didn’t want to be hurt again, and with someone like him, it was almost a guarantee that somewhere down the line, it would happen, and she just wasn’t sure her heart could take the trauma of yet another failed relationship.

She would remain, however, she would fight these feelings until there was nothing left within her tiny body to keep going. After all, what good was this feeling if it wasn’t returned? There was no name for it, so she just kept her mouth shut and waited for sunrise.

[Minoshia]

His feet crashed into the ground, crushing twigs and leaves as he bolted through the foliage. Branches slapped against his chest and his face as he darted forward in his uncoordinated sprint. His hands clutched and clawed at his face, trying to scrape away the searing pain that melted through his face. He screamed into the humid morning air, his voice a howling shriek that caused birds and animals to skidder away in mortal terror. In his aimless scurry he foot caught the end of a thick root that extended into the make shift path he was dashing on. In accordance to the laws of the universe, his muscular body continued forth with its original momentum – launching his body into a horizontal sprawl. Face first he collided into the hard ground, his burnt nose crushed against the leaves that lined the earth’s surface immediately before the rest of his visage slammed into the same turf. Rocks and dirt filled his mouth and cut into his facial structure as he slowly slid to stop. Screaming in agony his hands returned to work on the burnt skin that surrounded his eyes, peeing and tearing at the already grotesque wound. In his frenzy he rolled onto his back and his knees up to his stomach, tucking his elbows deep into his ribs while shoving his clenched fists into his eye sockets.

“Arrrgghhh!!” he continued to howl into the still darkened sky. Blood red energy exploded from his trunk as he hurled his appendages into the air around him. The tips of his aura became uncontrollable flames separated into small tongues that licked out against the atmosphere around him. The pulsating force that emitted from his trunk had turned pitch black in areas that wrapped tightly to his body, his fury reaching levels unknown to this world.

His power was spreading like wildfire, engulfing everything that surrounded him as it throbbed forward in waves. Trees, shrubs and fleeing animals that were caught in his the midst of his wrath weren’t allowed the leisure of burning. Rather they combusted in such a manner that their entire beings were evaporated into the depths of his awesome power.

The expansion of his energy stopped abruptly as his screeching lament began its stubborn descent into silence. His aura recoiled quickly, before diminishing into the nothingness around his torso. What was left was the cringing shell of Minoshia, the battle hardened warrior from a practically extinct species. His chest was rising and falling with ridiculous speed, breaths escaping from his mouth in short quick pants. His heart was pounding in his torso; a vein in his forehead was pulsing intensely against the skin. His right hand darted to his chest, clutching the crevice between his two pectoral muscles – he tried to slow his breathing, extending his intake of oxygen and resting his overworked heart. As he calmed, he could hear the burning of foliage around him – but the sky before him was painted into black nothingness. With his free hand he swept the tips of his fingers across the bridge of his nose. Cringing in pain, he could feel the sensitivity of the exposed flesh on his face – at least a few layers of his skin had been seared off and his cheeks felt charred. Expecting to feel closed skin, he lifted his hand to his eyes and pressed his finger into the socket. He grimaced in pain as he crudely prodded at himself, yet he felt no skin. He felt the gooey, soft texture of his own eyeball.

“Then why ca-…” He stopped before completing his rhetorical question about why he couldn’t see, when the answer struck him. The inevitability of the truth thudded against his chest like an anvil had been dropped by the God’s. “Oh fuck… Oh fuck… Goddammit!!” Minoshia burst onto his feet throwing his fists into the air, swinging in a mindless rage at few floating insects that he –naturally – couldn’t see. “You took my eyes!! My fucking eyes…” The scream trailed off as he fell onto his knees, his hands remaining suspended above his head. He stared into the ground now, seeing nothing and feeling nothingness besides uncontrollable rage. He slammed his boney appendages into the ground, falling on all fours. “Seventeen?...” His hissed, his voice nearly silent now – below the audible range of anyone who may be listening.

He is dead you fool. You saw him die. The dark voice echoed in his cranium, deeply chuckling at the pathetic state of his host.

“Not the time… This is not the time…” Minoshia panted through clenched teeth, his lips curling upwards in a demonic grimace. His visage was no longer a mask of calculated determination, nor was cold indifference – his countenance now a display of furious, burning rage. “This is your fault, you motha’ fucker… You let him die, you let this happen to me…”

Silence you fuckin’ idiot! It roared up inside him, burning his brain with incredibly potency. you don’t need that android, forget about him. He was holding us back, everyone is holding us back…

“No! I don’t need you!” He screamed into the earth, saliva pouring from the corners of his mouth – leaking down his bottom lip and pooling on his chin, occasionally falling in drops onto the surface.

You need me now more than ever, you pathetic excuse for life. You are blind and useless, as you always have been. How do you expect to travel, tell me that hot shot?

“I will find a way to survive, like I always do…” The words were poison as they rolled off his tongue and oozed from his lips.

You never did shit. We survived, we succeeded… we destroyed. There is no YOU, and there is no I. There is only a WE. Now, we are blind – but we are not dead. We can still hear, still feel and still sense. I can guide us to victory Minoshia… but you must accept that this is our destiny – one being, one soul.

“And if I refuse?”

You will undoubtedly die and fail.

[Android-18]

“Yes, yes, yes!” her voice rang out to fill the empty house. Raditzu froze as he was about to eat another spoonful of his food, staring at her. “Sorry, this food is good, better than eating bread.” She shoveled canned mush into her mouth. “I never knew canned corn could taste so good.” she washed it down with some water and looked at her companion with bright eyes.

Silence settled around them like the dust that covered the floor. She finished her meal, consisting of 4 cans of various varieties. Her lover ate much more; however, he did not seem as excited about eating canned food. If they had had bread he would have probably gone hunting for more rabbit and leaves.

“Imagine if this was our house,” the saiya-jin froze again, his spoon slipped from his fingers. “I mean, minus the dust, and better décor. Maybe bigger in size.” She looked about the kitchen, beginning to see it in a different light. “And the sound of little feet-”

“Hey, that’s a great idea. Why don’t we…uh…play some cards?” he cut her off before mentioning anything drastic. He knew how a woman worked, as soon as an idea came to mind they’d do anything to get it. They had the headquarters, and that was house enough. Children? No way! Raditzu was child enough; he didn’t need anymore children hogging his lifestyle. He made sure not to say anything to Eighteen, of course.

“What game did you have in mind?” she asked, clearing the table and wiping it down with an old rag that had been left behind.

“Poker…well, a different kind of poker.” He coughed and pulled his cards out. “I’ll teach you.” His grin was curious, but she smiled and sat down opposite of him delightfully. She couldn’t pass up this form of entertainment, otherwise they may go crazy, and not the good kind of crazy either.

Hours passed, the night crept into the sky, and the house grew dark. There was no electricity, but the android was ever so clever. She had rummaged about in the dark looking for candles, and now two sat aflame and illuminating their faces and bodies in the bedroom. Strangely, it had been his idea to move to the bedroom, but she did not protest. The game had been thoroughly explained to her, and she played as well as she could. It was obvious that he was winning. She didn’t know how to keep a poker face, much to her dismay.

It didn’t take long before the girl was left sitting on the bed with only her underwear to cover her lithe form. “Are you sure this is how we play poker? It seems…scandalous.” She gripped her cards tightly and close to her body so as to hide them from her adversary. He wore only his pants, she had been lucky in finally winning a few games.

“Of course, I told you it was a different kind of poker. It’s what the real adults play, babe.” He grinned and then looked down at his cards with a light in his eyes.

As they played the candles melted downward, dripping wax upon the surface where they had been placed. The soft flame played warm light against her contours, making her skin glow like the setting sun. Her golden hair caught flecks of light and seemed as if the very material it resembled. She blushed and hid behind drawn knees, hair cascading down her shoulders and against her burning cheeks. She smiled abashed, using only one arm to hold her cards, whilst the other pressed tenderly to her bosom. He assured her that he had seen her well enough before, but try as he might; the android remained as shy as a school girl. All that was left upon her body was the white cotton socks protecting her dainty little feet. She was going to lose; he still had more clothing on.

“What happens if I…uh…lose?” she asked timidly. Her deep soft eyes sparkled as the flickering candles reflected into them.

“Oh, that’s the best part. You don’t really lose. Don’t worry.” His eyes seemed full of primal emotion, one which she was unsure of, but she was hardly afraid of him. On the contrary, her pricing blue eyes cast about his body, taking note of how the candle light created such soft features against his abdomen and his face. She also took note of other things, but quickly looked back upward as he stared at his cards with much intensity. He wanted to win, even if there were no losers in this game, he had to win.

The game drew to a close as she pulled each sock off while attempting to shield her body. She tossed them upon the dusty floor, and turned upon her hands and knees on the bed, she crawled for the safety of the blanket. “Oh no you don’t!” she heard him call as a force hit her, lightly, but forcing her against the bed. His hands clasped about her firm body, pulling her into a cuddle, whilst his hands roamed. “Why get a blanket when you got me?” he asked, playfully.

“I’m not sure what’s going on, to be honest.” She replied, turning her head to look at his face. He dove in deftly and caught her lips in a kiss. She felt her body tingle at the sensation, but her naïve nature was ever prominent.

“I love you, that’s what’s going on.” He said in the softest tone she had ever heard from him. She turned upon her back to get a better look at him, and he stroked the side of her face while taking in her beauty.

“I…love you too.” She said, feeling a moment of shyness within her. “I’m just not sure that you understand…for me I’ve only known you for a short time. I know that for you we’ve known each other for years. We’ve done things…said things.” She looked away, but he redirected her gaze back to him with his hand. She seemed distraught, naked and unsure in his embrace. “I don’t know what’s right, and what’s not.”

He looked upon her, beginning to see the pain she was in. Not physical pain, but mental. She wanted to remember his touch, his love. She couldn’t, and he would never fully understand what she was going through. He missed her touch, and her love. A small part of him felt selfish for leading her awry, but God damn it; he couldn’t fight his urges to be with her. He lowered his head to her chest and held onto her like his life depended on it. She stroked his hair lovingly and held him close to her body. He moved suddenly to look into her eyes again, only to find them vacant and lifeless. In a fit of panic he gripped her shoulders and cried her name.

“Babe?” Her eyes were closed, but she could feel his hands gripping against her. He knew what she wanted, now, but did he want it too? His word had interrupted her, but no matter. She used a hand and pushed the back of his head so that their parted lips connected. A muffled, pleased sound ensued, but the origin was unknown. He pulled her even closer, if that was possible. He brought a hand up to caress her cheek, and then they parted. His thumb played against her bottom lip, while she looked up with a look he had only seen once before. “You sure…?” his words trailed off into a world of oblivion. Of course she was sure, wasn’t she? He need not see if his suspicions were correct, she gave a simple and easy reply. Her lips slid around his thumb, while her nimble tongue gave way to teasing the appendage. “Oh God!” Yes, that was answer enough. They had waited long enough, why it had never occurred sooner was a mystery to them. The timing was perfect, wasn’t it? Long feelings of displeasure toward him, building up, until finally they both let it end with a kiss. It couldn’t end there, not now, a burning feeling deep inside wanted more than that kiss.

Swimming, that’s what it felt like. The world swallowed her whole, and then spat her out. His voice came to her ears, and pulled at her conscience, bringing her back to him. Her eyes lit up with life, and she took in his face as the warm light bathed him beautifully. “I…got another memory.” She looked at him, her eyes showing slight confusion. She fought to recall the memory, to explain to him. Her face lit up again, and then she blushed profusely. “Oh my…We, well, we were in a tower…and…” her lover lowered and kissed her fully, all passion and love seemed to be aflame and she felt the emotions dwelling within her as well.

“You don’t have to tell me, I know what memory that is.” He said as he broke away. “I hope that some day we can relive that moment, but I would never want you to do something you weren’t ready for.” He smiled down at her.

“I want you, but not yet. I guess for me it would be the first time, and I want it to be special…again.” She blushed again, turning away.

“Babe, with you it’s always special.” he proceeded to deliver an attack on her body, and she squealed as the tickles assaulted her senses. How cruel!

[Minoshia]

“F-Fine.” Minoshia stammered the forced words, lifting his left leg up underneath his chest and pushing his torso upwards. Hands resting on his knees, he eventually lifted his fractured body into a standing position. The darkness that haunted his dreams now surrounded him, engulfing him in a well of mystery. He had no idea where he was, and he had no idea where he was going – all he knew was that he had just agreed to allow his darker persona, that had been dormant in the cages of his mind, guide him through this competition. The more he thought about it, the more outrageous it seemed.

“Nothing to lose, everything to gain.” Minoshia grunted, imagining his bat crushing through the skull of the saiyan who had slain his android accomplice. Bardock’s red bandana became loose, falling idly to the ground as the Konat slammed the bat into his already deceased brain. In the vision the child held the rabid monkey down with firm foot pressed against his throat – repeatedly bringing his long metal friend down upon his adversary’s countenance, compressed blood shot from the wound and sprayed the body and face of the grinning prince.

The fantasy faded as he placed the bat in front of him, using it as a cane – imitating the many blind men he had seen walking the streets of the earthen cities. Tapping the metal bat from side to side, he began to taking small steps forward, inch by inch creeping towards his inevitable destiny.

“Whoa, shit!” He stumbled forward as slugger slipped on a soggy piece of sloped grass. He had been putting too much weight on the object, using it more like an actual cane than a traveling guide. Putting his hand down quickly, he caught himself before he collided into the dew covered surface. He wasn’t sure how, but he could sense where the ground would be and when his palm would slam into it. He shrugged the phenomenon off as instinct and pushed himself back into a standing position, and continued walking. He was moving very slowly, getting used to his lack of vision – this would not be easy, but at least traveling was possible. He also found that he needed to concentrate harder, feeling every step before he took it and listening for any hint of danger, a crackle in the distance or the sound of someone pushing aside vegetation; he was searching for anything out of the ordinary.

The air around him was slowly heating up, hinting at the coming of the new day. It was faint, but he could hear the sound of birds rising into the morning air, calling to each other in their own distinct manner. As was one of his habits, he decided he would rest before the sun rose into the sky and baked his already struggling body. Little did he know he had greatly over exaggerated the time of day, but it was the smaller things like that would take time, time he knew he didn’t have. Placing the baseball bat down on the earth, he carefully let himself fall to the ground – without much grace. He reached deep into his bag, fishing around for his canteen. After he grabbed the bottle of water, he realized that he had been foolishly looking into the bag; apparently it escaped him that his eyes were completely useless.

As he brought the nozzle to his lips, he gently tilted it upwards and poured water into his mouth. It hadn’t occurred to him until now, that he was resting and he had taken his mind off the dutiful labor of traveling without site, that he could practically feel his skin burning. His brow remained constantly angled, contorting his forehead into a pattern of furious wrinkles and his mouth was locked in a terrifying scorn. With his mind empty, he found himself replaying the scene that had happened mere hours ago – everytime the video ended with him watching the rocket explode from the cannon and land in the bus, resulting in a cataclysmic explosion. After that, everything turned black and mind numbing pain seared deep into his eyes, likely burning his retina and causing the blindness he now experienced.

He didn’t notice his entire body shaking with violent anger as he focused on the replay, a tornado of fury whipped through his small frame in an instant –awakening the demons of his past that dwelled deep inside his being. He could feel his glazed eyes ignite into fireballs, showing the television audience a peek into his soul. Like a small child, he brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his muscular arms around his shins as tight as he could, creating a small package out of his normally loose body. He quickly found himself rocking back and forth, using his buttocks as a pivot, in his furious rage. Leaning forward he sank his teeth into one of his folded biceps in an attempt to stop himself from screaming out in lunacy. Adorned in dark clothes, he had become nothing but a black ball of fury resting atop a small prominence in the vast landscape of Dante.

“I’ll get them…” He nodded to himself in reassurance. “Yes, I will kill them all… I will tear their eyes from their skulls and show them my pain.” He chuckled as he imagined Bardock and Violet stumbling around, blood streaming down their faces from their empty eye sockets. The vision rotated to show Minoshia, sitting on the ground playing with the freed eyeballs as if they were toys. “I will rip them limb from limb until there is nothing left, and then… I will bathe in their blood. Oh yes, yes we will.” Minoshia continued to rock in his violent manner, a sinister smirk crossing his face before his mouth opened as wide as it could and everything instantly became silent, all that could be heard was the deafening cackle of the maniacal child.

[Reijin]

Continued from: http://www.cdbzrpg.com/forum/showpost.ph...ostcount=2

The Saiyan’s eyes slowly flickered open, noting the silence all around him as he glanced around before sitting up slowly, as if unsure of himself. Stretching out his arms, he drew a deep breath and felt the oxygen flow throughout his lungs before exhaling slowly. Amazingly, there was no lingering feelings of drunkenness or even a hangover.

He pushed himself to his feet and looked down a moment, eyes widening as he realized that he was completely naked. In a rush, he snatched up his clothing from the floor and began pulling his pants on immediately, staring up at the ceiling the entire time until he clasped the belt in place, feeling only then that it was safe to look down.

“That’s going to be something I wish I hadn’t seen,” he mumbled to himself before looking down at the crab that was hiding beneath a nearby overturned table. He kneeled down and smiled at the crab, reaching out his ungloved hand to gently urge the crab into his outstretched palm before carrying it over to the ladder, climbing the rungs one step at a time, and then used his shoulder to force open the trap door to allow a sudden rush of cool moist sea air into the cellar.

Not to be outdone, the early morning dawn flooded into the cellar as well, leaving the crab to suddenly draw its eyes into its shell a moment before slowly coming back out. Reijin looked down at the crab and chuckled, sliding it up through the small crack to release it onto the cool wet beach sand. “You are one tough little crab,” he called to it, bidding it farewell. “Don’t let the barbarians of this planet tell you any differently.”

The crab stared at him for a moment before sliding sideways through the sand. Reijin watched it leave with a tint of sadness within his eyes before climbing back down once more to grab the rest of his clothing. A few minutes later, the hardened warrior flipped the door back over and emerged, his arms exiting first to push himself out from the darkened pit. He tossed his pitchfork up onto the sand and then, with a push, vaulted himself out and onto his feet, grabbing his weapon again before rising to his full stature, cloak flowing behind him majestically.

His fingers lifted up and gently felt the wind rushing through them before he took another breath of the morning sea air, allowing it to penetrate him deeply. “Of all places, on this planet of death… I find life.” A casual glance up revealed a flock of birds flying over head through the morning dew as the deep reds, oranges, and pinks filled the sky with the sun’s rising.

He took a few steps forward and pointed his demon spear forward, breaking into a fast movement of spins and twirls, his movements a blurred dance of ferocity and strikes, removing limbs from invisible adversaries that were from another world. Each strike aimed to either remove a power core or dismember an important limb, to slash a throat or eviscerate intestines.

After a moment’s warmup, the warrior slowed down into a series of stretches, leaning forward and then pulling back into a tall stance. “Its no sword, but it should suit me quite well,” he mused, looking out in the distance. “Now, where shall I go first?”

Then he heard a masculine groan within his head.

Ehn…

Reijin stopped and braced himself for the onslaught that he knew was going to come.

Wait… WHAT? Wait a fucking minute! the voice roared loudly within his mind. You bitch! What the hell do you think you are doing?

The Saiyan shrugged, walking forward slowly to begin the trek at hand. “If I can’t get you to cooperate then I’m going to just have to do this myself,” Jun’ai responded, controlling Reijin’s body from that place within her mind that she lay.

Not in my fucking body you aren’t!

Reijin’s body stopped for a moment and contemplated, digging deeply back into his memories to find the one he’d found during the drunken adventure of the previous night. “Alright, I’m much more comfortable in my own anyways.” The words were spoken as a burst of smoke surrounded his form. “I’m sure that getting my goals accomplished as you would cause me quite a few disagreements anyways.”

The smoke peeled back in the wind to reveal a very beautiful young woman with flowing amethyst hair laying up on her shoulders, a crescent shaped piece of machinery engraved into her flesh to encompass her eye before flowing down like a slash to her cheek. Even still, it only added to her sense of style rather than retract from it. Her eyes glittered like emerald’s in the growing light and she smiled, outstretching her very female hands to look down at them before pulling the clothing to accommodate her new assets. She silently thanked Reijin for having paid as close attention as he had to her image before so that she could use his own Shapechange ability to take a form more suitable to her liking. His drinking binge had weakened his mind just enough to leave him incapacitated for her to assert control.

“Sorry boys, but Jun’ai has entered the tournament.”

She took a few more steps forward before stopping suddenly, her stomach lurching beneath her violently as she braced herself using the long staff as a hold. “Oh man, why did you have to go and get yourself so drunk?” she complained a moment. Then her eyes flashed wide before she exploded in smoke once more.

When it cleared, the male Saiyan was standing tall, imposing a lot stronger and more intimidating visage than before. He looked around a moment before noting a scuttling crab in the distance. “I told you, bitch, I am a Saiyan. I can’t get drunk off of this watered down crap.” With that having been said, he held up his arm and shot a small sharp charge at the crab, the tiny explosion shattering the crab’s shell and killing it instantly, boiling the crab in the water that it had just entered.

A burst of steam sprayed out from the open wound in the shell as Reijin approached it coolly, kneeling down to retrieve his prize and lifting it out of the water, looking over it before digging in a hand to scrape out the warm steamed meat from its body and then cracking a leg, lifting it up to his mouth to suck the meat from inside. “Ah… That’s much better.”

From within his mind, a contrary voice seethed. I think I hate you. Yeah, from what Reijin could tell, she was not pleased. He smiled and held up one of the other legs.

“I’m sorry, I’d offer you one but you aren’t really here. Don’t worry though, they taste better with sauce, but this isn’t all bad. Better than bread.”

[Zangya]

The mangled form of the Ader lay limp against the side of the hospital building. She looked up and saw the large, glowing red cross the stood atop the rather high overhang, and it immediately occurred to her that the building she was near was the one she needed. She knew that suitable medical supplies would not be found here—but at least, perhaps, she could find a bed that she could rest in.

Comfort had become a blessing to the jade woman over the past two days—she had learned the price of living in the wild, something she hadn’t experienced for too long during her last trip here, to this island. This experience… it was something totally different, something totally unfamiliar. After only two days—after only forty-eight hours, perhaps one or two more—she had come to think of this place as a home away from home, as a place that she could use to better herself; the planet Dante, while brutal and full of many methods of torturing its inhabitants, could be kind at times.

Of course, this kindness was given rarely, and whom it was given to happened to be based purely upon luck, much like the rest of the competition. The woman limped miserably into the infirmary, climbing the steps up to the upper levels, after looking at a sign that directed her up to the residential area of the hospital. The facility was desolate, and had been abandoned for some time; no trace of an evacuation could be found, though. It seemed as though the prestige of the place had just dissolved over time, leaving it an empty shell.

It was the only building in the city left unscathed by whatever battle had rocked the rest of the once glorious metropolis.

She walked lamely into one of the vacant hospital rooms, and quickly collapsed down onto the bed, letting the blood from her wounds soak into the rumpled sheets of the comfortable hospital bed. It was not long until she had soaked them almost fully with the crimson liquid, and was bathing in a pool of her own blood. Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but it seemed like it to her. Her head injury from before combined with this new curse just made her senses die on her.

Her vision blurred, and slowly, she drifted in and out of consciousness; it felt strange, the feeling that death was suddenly overwhelming her. “I suppose I’ll be joining you soon, Celipa,” Zangya muttered, curling up inside the blankets. Her mind was beginning to fail her, and her body felt limper than before—she could feel the aura of death coming closer, and slowly, she reached out towards the window she somehow knew he would enter from, and called out to him blindly in the dark rooms of the hospital.

“KILL ME!” she cried, reaching out and clasping her fingers together into a fist, “TAKE ME AWAY!” she said, leaping from the bed and climbing to the window. She lunged forward, sending half of her body outwards, reaching into the sky. “I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!” she called out, but her cries fell on deaf ears. “I WANT TO DIE!”

This last scream pierced the ears of all of the island’s inhabitants. She knew that Karl Jak heard. She knew the viewers heard. She knew Aero and Kirano, wherever they were, heard. She knew Celipa heard. She knew Seventeen heard. She knew Violet and Bardock heard. And Raditzu and Eighteen and Reijin and Minoshia and Bojack and Bubb Rubb and Petunia and Jack Sparrow and Retane and Tapion and Vazko and Ruhiel and Raspberry and Warako and Lethe and Mowgli and Paragus and Talys and Uno and Orion and Bujin and Burter and Hellfighter Seventeen has heard. And she knew that Gokua had heard.

Her voice was lost. Her cries had fallen on deaf ears, and now she died with a passion… a passion that would be embodied in her for years to come after this competition was over. She slipped from her perch, and fell down the side of the building, attempting to catch herself on some form of windowsill of something—but no help came, no assistance, no divine providence came to save her.

She was falling into death’s door. She knew it. She could feel it, and then suddenly, it stopped. She stopped. In mid-air, Zangya floated—her mind felt lofty, her senses slowly rushing into her head. She stood upright on the seemingly solid ground that happened to be invisible below her, and looked at herself. She was healed, she was okay. A blue aura erupted around her, signifying that she was just being empowered by her recent failures.

And then suddenly, she had returned to the hospital bed, her expression changed from one of despair to one of strength. The warmth had rushed back into her features, and she sat down. She was not healed—she was still cut, she was still bruised, and she was still broken, but these wounds were only physical and cosmetic—they only appeared on the outside.

On the inside, Zangya felt strong.