03-03-2010, 04:18 AM
“Whatever you do, just don’t put some freaking bag on my head, alright?”
The mechanical beings complied with his wish. After his eyes fell shut, one of the robots glanced to his partner, gesturing for the half-Saiyan’s legs. From that point, the task of lifting the boy—however small he may have been—became a team effort, and one of the mechanized droids held onto him by his knees while the other took him beneath his shoulders. The robotics’ backs opened up, revealing jetpack-like machines attached to their spines, and quickly lifted off the ground, carrying their quarry past the skyscrapers of Central City and into the skies of the wilderness beyond within seconds.
The flight was quick—Keith had built the machines to be fast flyers, and that skill was exemplified in this instance. The pair of steel-skinned kidnappers flew almost at pace with the wind, skimming over the wide, rolling plains and lakes alike as they grew closer to their destination. Summers’ headquarters was not known on a map; they did not know where it was in relation to anything else in the galaxy, they were simply programmed to go to a specific place upon completion of their mission.
It was better this way, especially since a skilled warrior might actually be able to take down a few robots during the scuffle. Normally, larger teams were sent, but Juno was at such a severe disadvantage—weakened from sickness—that a pair of bots seemed the most logical course. Summers didn’t want to waste resources on someone that didn’t need resources wasted on them. Rather, the larger teams had been sent after warriors physically capable—a few of Juno’s choice acquaintances among them, the droid realized, examining Juno’s entry in their databases as they flew to the headquarters of the “game,” wherever it was. The half-Saiyan’s database also revealed several details about his combat style; the droid noted that none of them had been present during this battle. The sickness must’ve debilitated him more than the creator had realized.
Eventually, the pair of robots reached their destination, and found themselves inside the extensive headquarters of Keith Summers, the mastermind behind Kill Town and ‘Gamer,’ as he would soon become known to the contestants. They carried Juno just as they’d carried him during flight, finally finding themselves inside the room just before the game room. Passing the quarry off to his partner, one of the robots glanced to the ceiling.
“Mr. Summers,” it said in a dreary, mechanized monotone, “the subject is much weaker than calculated. I have formed a query during my studies—how does the creator expect such a pathetic specimen to be entertaining, when he can do little but sway lethargically due to this illness that he has? The affliction has affected him more than we first realized, sir.” The robot continued to stare upward, awaiting an answer from the master—though he was never fully sure that he would receive one. His concerns were rarely taken with more than a grain of salt; after all, he was merely a droid.
“Worry not,” Gamer finally piped in over an intercom, speaking from an undisclosed location within the base, “I have designed my game beautifully. It will nullify any ailment while the subject is inside; he will feel and act perfectly normal and healthy. Unless, of course, he is injured during the course of the game—then, of course, he just sucks.”
The robot nodded; a satisfactory answer, he thought, though he also knew that he had no right to place judgment on any of his creators’ opinions. Not another word was spoken between the two, and the more sentient bot of the pair quickly turned to his companion, gesturing for him to take Juno into the game room. For the onyx-haired Saiyan, the game was about to begin.
A sudden jerk brought him to his senses. His eyes popped open, and his stomach soon grew nauseous at the sight that lay before him—his abdomen was pressed up against a safety bar as he gazed down on an admittedly very creepy carnival from the tip-top of the Ferris wheel. He breathed heavily, composing himself and slowly grasping the safety bar for support; panting, he realized that the wheel was, in fact, moving downward, and that the ground was getting closer and closer to him the longer he sat here. Whoever had started this Ferris wheel moving wanted him down, and frankly, he wasn’t about to argue—he was not afraid of heights whatsoever, but he didn’t fancy being trapped up here all night.
He took the chance to observe his surroundings from this vantage point before he lost it—from the looks of it, he was inside a section of the carnival that resembled a theme park more than a traveling circus; a roller coaster rose high above the horizon, and several other rides littered the landscape. Just ahead of him, past the roller coaster, was a water park, also eerily out of place in the splendor of this “carnival.” Several other buildings, which he assumed counted an arcade, a few concessions stands, and some shops, stood farther away, but well within walking distance.
Abruptly, however, Juno considered that perhaps now was not the time to be taking in the scenery—there were circumstances to consider and puzzles to solve. Some things needed to be figured out before he could focus his thoughts on anything else, and now, as the wheel slowly reached the halfway point of its downward arc, the onyx-haired Saiyan felt as if it was safe to think about the here and now. First of all, he was in a strange circus, and he was not alone—someone had to be operating the Ferris wheel, right? But more prevalent, rather than the where and the who, was the why: why would anyone kidnap him and take him to some carnival in what looked to be the middle of nowhere, save for the classy hotel that he assumed was supposed to serve as his—and perhaps others’—lodgings during their time spent in captivity.
“I’m not a fan of games,” he mumbled, sliding back in the seat. So many questions bounced around his mind, but he had few answers to match up with them. The Ferris wheel’s arc was winding down, so he resigned himself to just waiting for them to appear before him, which, if this was a game, as he suspected, he knew they would. They always did. He cursed under his breath as the wheel finally reached the 180 degrees point, coming to a full stop. The door opened, and ever so cautiously, the half-Saiyan stepped out into Hell.
A huge neon sign lit up as he stepped out, spelling out the words ‘Kill Town’ in large, fluorescent, red letters. He stared at the sign for a brief second.
“Well, that’s not foreboding at all,” he quipped to no one in particular, squinting his eyes at the power of the lights. Someone sure went to a lot of trouble to set this place up. His vision flitted from side to side, finally catching the control booth to the Ferris wheel. It was, however, eerily empty, and Juno was left to believe that whoever had been operating his vehicle into this hell hole had bolted right after opening the doors.
And so the half-Saiyan was left alone, standing idly in front of an equally idle circus ride, and in front of a sign that was as bright as the frickin’ sun. The light finally became too much for him, so he shielded his eyes and began to walk away from the Ferris wheel, instead walking out of the section of the park concerning rides and heading straight for the only place he would feel comfortable—the concessions stand. After all, a Saiyan couldn’t do anything on an empty stomach, right? Right.
He sighed; he told himself all of these things, attempting to quell the intense curiosity—and the inescapable paranoia—he had of this mysterious place. He had noticed one good thing, however. Whatever his captors had done, he no longer was in pain and no longer felt extremely tired; his sickness had, for the moment, been quelled. See, there was always a bright side—even if the light wasn’t all that bright.
The walk to the concessions went quicker than he’d anticipated, judging on how far it’d seemed from his point of entry. He didn’t waste any time, and slid up to a large booth that read popcorn, leaning in and glancing around for the shop’s caretaker. No one was in sight, at first glance, but suddenly, the curtains at the back of the booth split majestically and a tall, lanky man walked into view. He had short, orange hair cut not unlike Juno’s, but much shorter, and wore green suspenders over a purple dress shirt. His pants were green, as well, matching the emerald hue of his suspenders. He wore on his face a broad smile that put Juno off, at first. On second thought, though, this man seemed to be the first even moderately welcoming thing he’d encountered in this carnival—so he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to sort out the situation.
“So,” Juno said, breaking the silence, “You, uh… you work… here?” The carnie’s smile didn’t fade, and for a second, the half-Saiyan considered the possibility that he was a robot because of his frozen expression. After several seconds, however, his lips relaxed, and his smile transformed from something more resembling a smirk than a grin.
“Yes,” he replied quite joyously, “My name is Oscar, and I’ll be your popcorn popper today. I’m also a great listener, if you’re interested in chatting. Actually, you know what, I feel like being generous—so I’m going to give you a box of popcorn on the house.” He was very lively, this man, and Juno laughed as he did a weird acrobatic move reaching underneath the counter for a prefilled container of popcorn, still hot and still covered in salt despite how long it might’ve been sitting there. Juno graciously took the donation—he was hungry. “So, what would like to say?”
“Actually,” Juno smirked, “I’d prefer if you did the talking. Tell me about this place…”
The mechanical beings complied with his wish. After his eyes fell shut, one of the robots glanced to his partner, gesturing for the half-Saiyan’s legs. From that point, the task of lifting the boy—however small he may have been—became a team effort, and one of the mechanized droids held onto him by his knees while the other took him beneath his shoulders. The robotics’ backs opened up, revealing jetpack-like machines attached to their spines, and quickly lifted off the ground, carrying their quarry past the skyscrapers of Central City and into the skies of the wilderness beyond within seconds.
The flight was quick—Keith had built the machines to be fast flyers, and that skill was exemplified in this instance. The pair of steel-skinned kidnappers flew almost at pace with the wind, skimming over the wide, rolling plains and lakes alike as they grew closer to their destination. Summers’ headquarters was not known on a map; they did not know where it was in relation to anything else in the galaxy, they were simply programmed to go to a specific place upon completion of their mission.
It was better this way, especially since a skilled warrior might actually be able to take down a few robots during the scuffle. Normally, larger teams were sent, but Juno was at such a severe disadvantage—weakened from sickness—that a pair of bots seemed the most logical course. Summers didn’t want to waste resources on someone that didn’t need resources wasted on them. Rather, the larger teams had been sent after warriors physically capable—a few of Juno’s choice acquaintances among them, the droid realized, examining Juno’s entry in their databases as they flew to the headquarters of the “game,” wherever it was. The half-Saiyan’s database also revealed several details about his combat style; the droid noted that none of them had been present during this battle. The sickness must’ve debilitated him more than the creator had realized.
Eventually, the pair of robots reached their destination, and found themselves inside the extensive headquarters of Keith Summers, the mastermind behind Kill Town and ‘Gamer,’ as he would soon become known to the contestants. They carried Juno just as they’d carried him during flight, finally finding themselves inside the room just before the game room. Passing the quarry off to his partner, one of the robots glanced to the ceiling.
“Mr. Summers,” it said in a dreary, mechanized monotone, “the subject is much weaker than calculated. I have formed a query during my studies—how does the creator expect such a pathetic specimen to be entertaining, when he can do little but sway lethargically due to this illness that he has? The affliction has affected him more than we first realized, sir.” The robot continued to stare upward, awaiting an answer from the master—though he was never fully sure that he would receive one. His concerns were rarely taken with more than a grain of salt; after all, he was merely a droid.
“Worry not,” Gamer finally piped in over an intercom, speaking from an undisclosed location within the base, “I have designed my game beautifully. It will nullify any ailment while the subject is inside; he will feel and act perfectly normal and healthy. Unless, of course, he is injured during the course of the game—then, of course, he just sucks.”
The robot nodded; a satisfactory answer, he thought, though he also knew that he had no right to place judgment on any of his creators’ opinions. Not another word was spoken between the two, and the more sentient bot of the pair quickly turned to his companion, gesturing for him to take Juno into the game room. For the onyx-haired Saiyan, the game was about to begin.
~+~
A sudden jerk brought him to his senses. His eyes popped open, and his stomach soon grew nauseous at the sight that lay before him—his abdomen was pressed up against a safety bar as he gazed down on an admittedly very creepy carnival from the tip-top of the Ferris wheel. He breathed heavily, composing himself and slowly grasping the safety bar for support; panting, he realized that the wheel was, in fact, moving downward, and that the ground was getting closer and closer to him the longer he sat here. Whoever had started this Ferris wheel moving wanted him down, and frankly, he wasn’t about to argue—he was not afraid of heights whatsoever, but he didn’t fancy being trapped up here all night.
He took the chance to observe his surroundings from this vantage point before he lost it—from the looks of it, he was inside a section of the carnival that resembled a theme park more than a traveling circus; a roller coaster rose high above the horizon, and several other rides littered the landscape. Just ahead of him, past the roller coaster, was a water park, also eerily out of place in the splendor of this “carnival.” Several other buildings, which he assumed counted an arcade, a few concessions stands, and some shops, stood farther away, but well within walking distance.
Abruptly, however, Juno considered that perhaps now was not the time to be taking in the scenery—there were circumstances to consider and puzzles to solve. Some things needed to be figured out before he could focus his thoughts on anything else, and now, as the wheel slowly reached the halfway point of its downward arc, the onyx-haired Saiyan felt as if it was safe to think about the here and now. First of all, he was in a strange circus, and he was not alone—someone had to be operating the Ferris wheel, right? But more prevalent, rather than the where and the who, was the why: why would anyone kidnap him and take him to some carnival in what looked to be the middle of nowhere, save for the classy hotel that he assumed was supposed to serve as his—and perhaps others’—lodgings during their time spent in captivity.
“I’m not a fan of games,” he mumbled, sliding back in the seat. So many questions bounced around his mind, but he had few answers to match up with them. The Ferris wheel’s arc was winding down, so he resigned himself to just waiting for them to appear before him, which, if this was a game, as he suspected, he knew they would. They always did. He cursed under his breath as the wheel finally reached the 180 degrees point, coming to a full stop. The door opened, and ever so cautiously, the half-Saiyan stepped out into Hell.
A huge neon sign lit up as he stepped out, spelling out the words ‘Kill Town’ in large, fluorescent, red letters. He stared at the sign for a brief second.
“Well, that’s not foreboding at all,” he quipped to no one in particular, squinting his eyes at the power of the lights. Someone sure went to a lot of trouble to set this place up. His vision flitted from side to side, finally catching the control booth to the Ferris wheel. It was, however, eerily empty, and Juno was left to believe that whoever had been operating his vehicle into this hell hole had bolted right after opening the doors.
And so the half-Saiyan was left alone, standing idly in front of an equally idle circus ride, and in front of a sign that was as bright as the frickin’ sun. The light finally became too much for him, so he shielded his eyes and began to walk away from the Ferris wheel, instead walking out of the section of the park concerning rides and heading straight for the only place he would feel comfortable—the concessions stand. After all, a Saiyan couldn’t do anything on an empty stomach, right? Right.
He sighed; he told himself all of these things, attempting to quell the intense curiosity—and the inescapable paranoia—he had of this mysterious place. He had noticed one good thing, however. Whatever his captors had done, he no longer was in pain and no longer felt extremely tired; his sickness had, for the moment, been quelled. See, there was always a bright side—even if the light wasn’t all that bright.
The walk to the concessions went quicker than he’d anticipated, judging on how far it’d seemed from his point of entry. He didn’t waste any time, and slid up to a large booth that read popcorn, leaning in and glancing around for the shop’s caretaker. No one was in sight, at first glance, but suddenly, the curtains at the back of the booth split majestically and a tall, lanky man walked into view. He had short, orange hair cut not unlike Juno’s, but much shorter, and wore green suspenders over a purple dress shirt. His pants were green, as well, matching the emerald hue of his suspenders. He wore on his face a broad smile that put Juno off, at first. On second thought, though, this man seemed to be the first even moderately welcoming thing he’d encountered in this carnival—so he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to sort out the situation.
“So,” Juno said, breaking the silence, “You, uh… you work… here?” The carnie’s smile didn’t fade, and for a second, the half-Saiyan considered the possibility that he was a robot because of his frozen expression. After several seconds, however, his lips relaxed, and his smile transformed from something more resembling a smirk than a grin.
“Yes,” he replied quite joyously, “My name is Oscar, and I’ll be your popcorn popper today. I’m also a great listener, if you’re interested in chatting. Actually, you know what, I feel like being generous—so I’m going to give you a box of popcorn on the house.” He was very lively, this man, and Juno laughed as he did a weird acrobatic move reaching underneath the counter for a prefilled container of popcorn, still hot and still covered in salt despite how long it might’ve been sitting there. Juno graciously took the donation—he was hungry. “So, what would like to say?”
“Actually,” Juno smirked, “I’d prefer if you did the talking. Tell me about this place…”