The clock was ticking.
It had been over a day since the militia soldiers had found his naked body lying in the Namekian wilderness, his power exhausted from the transformation. One of the soldiers had slung his unconscious form over the back of her hover-bike and, thankfully, transported him to safety — but his tour on Namek wasn’t destined to just end there.
After chewing on a Senzu bean and having his wounds healed, he’d been shuffled to a debriefing room, where he had been ordered to tell the higher-up officers everything he remembered about their base.
“What does it matter?” he asked, “They’re all dead now.” He said that with a degree of confidence, despite not knowing exactly how many he’d killed while he was in his Oozaru form. The officer at the head of the table — an older man, with a churlish disposition, in Juno’s experience — chuckled.
“You might have noticed,” he began, “the gargantuan mother-ship that hovers over our city. This is not, as you may have thought, some simple war.”
Juno sighed. They were getting melodramatic again.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do about that,” the hybrid spoke, lacing his fingers together and sitting his hands on the table. Another chuckle escaped the older man’s lips. Am I … amusing you, old man? the hybrid thought. He pondered the idea of voicing his annoyance with the officer’s persistent attempts at giggling at his every word, as if he was some sort of jester performing funny tricks, but in the end decided against the idea.
“Well, that is exactly why we have called you here, Juno,” his Majesty — the thought tickled Juno, but he held back his laughter — responded, “To tell you what we expect you to do. Or, rather, what we hope you will do for us.”
So now you’re going to make me feel bad, Juno nodded, or … try, at least. I’m not one to be guilt-tripped, sir.
“The Grand Ship Myreen dominates the visible sky above Ja City,” the officer explained, “And we need a warrior like yourself — with knowledge of the enemy — to take it down for us. We have all come to the conclusion that you, Juno, are the warrior for this job.”
The hybrid sat back in his chair, musing over this proposition; it was obviously an opportunity for glory, but for whatever reason, the hybrid didn’t find himself motivated by that whatsoever. On the other hand, he didn’t understand why they thought he knew any more about the enemy than anyone else. The majority of the time he’d spent at their base had been as a guest in their prison cells, or in a state in which his mind was not his own. In the half-Saiyan’s mind, he didn’t think he was any more intellectual than anyone else on the subject of these … mysterious invaders. It mystified him that these men and women in fancy suits seemed to think that he was, somehow, inside a loop they themselves were out of.
“Obviously, we do not expect you to attempt to tackle this alone,” a woman to the older man’s left said, leaning on the elder’s chair.
Are you questioning my abilities? the hybrid thought, a smirk painting itself on his countenance. He stood up from his chair, and looked at the pair of officers across the room. “I think,” he told them rather confidently, “That I can handle myself.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Juno,” the woman’s voice said.
“The invaders that you have faced are tough enough,” the older man continued his partner’s statement, stopping Juno as he prepared to open the door and leave the debriefing room, “And we expect the ones on the Myreen to be even stronger. You’ll need a team — at least three skilled warriors, like yourself — to truly succeed. If you go alone, then you are giving yourself a death sentence.”
And perhaps, he considered, that was exactly what he wanted — a death sentence. He’d been a part of this melodramatic war, and he’d almost gotten himself killed over it. Was it worth that? It wasn’t as if he considered Namek his home, or anything like that — he lived primarily on Earth, which was not in danger, to his knowledge.
“We have warriors that you can use,” the old man continued, “Warriors that you know, and those you do not whose potential is, perhaps, even more potent.” The hybrid glanced over his shoulder, intrigued by this last statement. He hesitantly crossed back to the chair, and slid down into it, staring across the table once more before daring to say anything else.
“ … I’m listening.”
For the last day and a half, Juno had mulled over what had been said in that meeting. The meeting where he’d signed his life away to this cause, no matter whether or not he actually cared about the people he was trying to save — and that had been, perhaps, the thought he’d focused the most on. Or second most.
Why had he said yes? Out of some false desire to leap into adventure again? He’d already done that, and it had ended up getting him almost a week — in Earth time — in the extraterrestrials’ prison. No; he’d grown some sort of desire to do right, some idea that he was obligated to ‘be the hero.’ And it fucking pissed him off. This hero shit wasn’t his ball game. That was Kaden. Or Piper. Or whoever the hell decided they wanted to be do-gooders.
That didn’t mean that Juno wanted to be the ‘bad guy’ — no. He just… hated the idea of caring about other people (well, most other people). He thought that it hindered him, feeling like he had to protect these … people, most of whom he’d never even met before. It baffled him. And it was recent, too. Within the past two years, or so. Before that, he’d only cared about himself. And rightfully so.
Perhaps, though, that wasn’t everything — perhaps there was something else, something a bit deeper swimming around there. And he tried to push away the idea that it was because of them, because it wasn’t. He didn’t even know if they were still alive, for God’s sakes.
Of course they were still alive — they weren’t weaklings. Of course, in Juno’s experience, neither of them had exactly been the best physical fighters, but Sophia had shown her ability to hold her own, and Kaden could blow up shit with the best of them. But it wasn’t them. That couldn’t have been the reason he’d agreed to this.
“Sir, what can I get for you?”
Juno looked up. The bartender raised an eyebrow — she was attractive, but she seemed smart as a whip. She could tell the hybrid was distracted — heck, he’d been so distracted that it had taken prompting from the girl for him to actually notice her. Normally, with a girl that pretty, he’d take notice rather quickly, but his senses seemed to be … lacking, at the moment.
Senses. That reminded him of Kaden, and his invaluable ability to sense ki signatures. The hybrid had, in his many thoughts, convinced himself that it was this technique that made the idea of working with Kaden such an attractive one. After all, if he’d actually wanted to work with the courier for the sake of working with him, he could just give up all of his pride that he’d been storing up over the last twenty years. He couldn’t exactly give in after all of the enmity he’d instigated between himself and the blonde male.
He quickly flipped open Sophia’s folder, and looked at her picture, in an attempt to distract himself. She looked exactly the same as he remembered her — if a bit more hardened, perhaps.
“I’ll — ” he stammered, looking up from the priestess’s (was she still a priestess?) picture and back into the eyes of the hot bartender, “ … I’ll take a, uh, a glass of Coke, I, uh, guess.” The girl scowled.
“No hard liquor?” she asked, “Aren’t you a soldier?”
Juno shook his head. “Not a soldier,” he said, looking back down at the picture, “Not, well, uh … not exactly.”
The girl scoffed, and turned around. Juno closed Sophia’s folder, and let himself get drowned in his thoughts again. What if Kaden and Sophia didn’t show up from their mission in time? He’d need other people. He had to go through more folders, look for more people, backups, and potentially extra people, especially since he didn’t know if the three of them would be enough. The elder man had said three people, minimum, including himself, but… would three be enough?
“Screw this, I’ve got to stop stressing.”
It was true — he had to stop worrying about it. It would all fall into place, eventually. At least, he hoped it would. In the meantime, he watched the attractive bartender slide his Coke down the bar, and then he shot her a flirtatious glance, which she returned amiably; and he sipped the soda with a smile.
He leaned back on the bar stool, and brushed Kaden’s folder off of the bar, then quickly did the same to Sophia’s. He wouldn’t have much longer to rest before he had to take his team — whatever team that may have been — up to the Grand Ship Myreen, where they would all risk their lives and, probably, die trying to protect Namek. And at the moment, he didn’t want to think about them, or anyone else.
This was his calm before the storm, and he was going to savor every moment of it.
It had been over a day since the militia soldiers had found his naked body lying in the Namekian wilderness, his power exhausted from the transformation. One of the soldiers had slung his unconscious form over the back of her hover-bike and, thankfully, transported him to safety — but his tour on Namek wasn’t destined to just end there.
After chewing on a Senzu bean and having his wounds healed, he’d been shuffled to a debriefing room, where he had been ordered to tell the higher-up officers everything he remembered about their base.
“What does it matter?” he asked, “They’re all dead now.” He said that with a degree of confidence, despite not knowing exactly how many he’d killed while he was in his Oozaru form. The officer at the head of the table — an older man, with a churlish disposition, in Juno’s experience — chuckled.
“You might have noticed,” he began, “the gargantuan mother-ship that hovers over our city. This is not, as you may have thought, some simple war.”
Juno sighed. They were getting melodramatic again.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do about that,” the hybrid spoke, lacing his fingers together and sitting his hands on the table. Another chuckle escaped the older man’s lips. Am I … amusing you, old man? the hybrid thought. He pondered the idea of voicing his annoyance with the officer’s persistent attempts at giggling at his every word, as if he was some sort of jester performing funny tricks, but in the end decided against the idea.
“Well, that is exactly why we have called you here, Juno,” his Majesty — the thought tickled Juno, but he held back his laughter — responded, “To tell you what we expect you to do. Or, rather, what we hope you will do for us.”
So now you’re going to make me feel bad, Juno nodded, or … try, at least. I’m not one to be guilt-tripped, sir.
“The Grand Ship Myreen dominates the visible sky above Ja City,” the officer explained, “And we need a warrior like yourself — with knowledge of the enemy — to take it down for us. We have all come to the conclusion that you, Juno, are the warrior for this job.”
The hybrid sat back in his chair, musing over this proposition; it was obviously an opportunity for glory, but for whatever reason, the hybrid didn’t find himself motivated by that whatsoever. On the other hand, he didn’t understand why they thought he knew any more about the enemy than anyone else. The majority of the time he’d spent at their base had been as a guest in their prison cells, or in a state in which his mind was not his own. In the half-Saiyan’s mind, he didn’t think he was any more intellectual than anyone else on the subject of these … mysterious invaders. It mystified him that these men and women in fancy suits seemed to think that he was, somehow, inside a loop they themselves were out of.
“Obviously, we do not expect you to attempt to tackle this alone,” a woman to the older man’s left said, leaning on the elder’s chair.
Are you questioning my abilities? the hybrid thought, a smirk painting itself on his countenance. He stood up from his chair, and looked at the pair of officers across the room. “I think,” he told them rather confidently, “That I can handle myself.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Juno,” the woman’s voice said.
“The invaders that you have faced are tough enough,” the older man continued his partner’s statement, stopping Juno as he prepared to open the door and leave the debriefing room, “And we expect the ones on the Myreen to be even stronger. You’ll need a team — at least three skilled warriors, like yourself — to truly succeed. If you go alone, then you are giving yourself a death sentence.”
And perhaps, he considered, that was exactly what he wanted — a death sentence. He’d been a part of this melodramatic war, and he’d almost gotten himself killed over it. Was it worth that? It wasn’t as if he considered Namek his home, or anything like that — he lived primarily on Earth, which was not in danger, to his knowledge.
“We have warriors that you can use,” the old man continued, “Warriors that you know, and those you do not whose potential is, perhaps, even more potent.” The hybrid glanced over his shoulder, intrigued by this last statement. He hesitantly crossed back to the chair, and slid down into it, staring across the table once more before daring to say anything else.
“ … I’m listening.”
~ + ~
For the last day and a half, Juno had mulled over what had been said in that meeting. The meeting where he’d signed his life away to this cause, no matter whether or not he actually cared about the people he was trying to save — and that had been, perhaps, the thought he’d focused the most on. Or second most.
Why had he said yes? Out of some false desire to leap into adventure again? He’d already done that, and it had ended up getting him almost a week — in Earth time — in the extraterrestrials’ prison. No; he’d grown some sort of desire to do right, some idea that he was obligated to ‘be the hero.’ And it fucking pissed him off. This hero shit wasn’t his ball game. That was Kaden. Or Piper. Or whoever the hell decided they wanted to be do-gooders.
That didn’t mean that Juno wanted to be the ‘bad guy’ — no. He just… hated the idea of caring about other people (well, most other people). He thought that it hindered him, feeling like he had to protect these … people, most of whom he’d never even met before. It baffled him. And it was recent, too. Within the past two years, or so. Before that, he’d only cared about himself. And rightfully so.
Perhaps, though, that wasn’t everything — perhaps there was something else, something a bit deeper swimming around there. And he tried to push away the idea that it was because of them, because it wasn’t. He didn’t even know if they were still alive, for God’s sakes.
Of course they were still alive — they weren’t weaklings. Of course, in Juno’s experience, neither of them had exactly been the best physical fighters, but Sophia had shown her ability to hold her own, and Kaden could blow up shit with the best of them. But it wasn’t them. That couldn’t have been the reason he’d agreed to this.
“Sir, what can I get for you?”
Juno looked up. The bartender raised an eyebrow — she was attractive, but she seemed smart as a whip. She could tell the hybrid was distracted — heck, he’d been so distracted that it had taken prompting from the girl for him to actually notice her. Normally, with a girl that pretty, he’d take notice rather quickly, but his senses seemed to be … lacking, at the moment.
Senses. That reminded him of Kaden, and his invaluable ability to sense ki signatures. The hybrid had, in his many thoughts, convinced himself that it was this technique that made the idea of working with Kaden such an attractive one. After all, if he’d actually wanted to work with the courier for the sake of working with him, he could just give up all of his pride that he’d been storing up over the last twenty years. He couldn’t exactly give in after all of the enmity he’d instigated between himself and the blonde male.
He quickly flipped open Sophia’s folder, and looked at her picture, in an attempt to distract himself. She looked exactly the same as he remembered her — if a bit more hardened, perhaps.
“I’ll — ” he stammered, looking up from the priestess’s (was she still a priestess?) picture and back into the eyes of the hot bartender, “ … I’ll take a, uh, a glass of Coke, I, uh, guess.” The girl scowled.
“No hard liquor?” she asked, “Aren’t you a soldier?”
Juno shook his head. “Not a soldier,” he said, looking back down at the picture, “Not, well, uh … not exactly.”
The girl scoffed, and turned around. Juno closed Sophia’s folder, and let himself get drowned in his thoughts again. What if Kaden and Sophia didn’t show up from their mission in time? He’d need other people. He had to go through more folders, look for more people, backups, and potentially extra people, especially since he didn’t know if the three of them would be enough. The elder man had said three people, minimum, including himself, but… would three be enough?
“Screw this, I’ve got to stop stressing.”
It was true — he had to stop worrying about it. It would all fall into place, eventually. At least, he hoped it would. In the meantime, he watched the attractive bartender slide his Coke down the bar, and then he shot her a flirtatious glance, which she returned amiably; and he sipped the soda with a smile.
He leaned back on the bar stool, and brushed Kaden’s folder off of the bar, then quickly did the same to Sophia’s. He wouldn’t have much longer to rest before he had to take his team — whatever team that may have been — up to the Grand Ship Myreen, where they would all risk their lives and, probably, die trying to protect Namek. And at the moment, he didn’t want to think about them, or anyone else.
This was his calm before the storm, and he was going to savor every moment of it.
Quote:OOC: Any questions, PM me. Spots are reserved for Kaden and Sophia if they want them because I've talked to them previously, but anyone can join. We just might have to make two strike teams if we get kind of crowded. Kthxbai.