05-22-2006, 01:32 AM
The hell fighter slowed down as neared the exit which lead to the park. The dim lighting of the bar allowed his pupils to dilate greatly. Once he stepped outside, the artificial lighting caused his eyes his inner eye to contract quickly, but his processors allowed the process to happen quickly and eliminate most of the discomfort that an ordinary human would endure.
Squinting his eyes, Seventeen looked about. The area was very bright and had a lively feel to it, but most of the people in here seemed to serious or apathetic to enjoy the serene view. There were some who had a cheerful fa?ade to their faces, but they were the optimists who wanted to put a brighter outlook on things after finding out what they had signed up for, but their pale cheeks and limping shoulders gave them all away to the robot.
There was one person that the hell fighter recognized among the collected people. The saiyan was average height, appearing to be five feet and nine inches, but his distance away didn?t allow am estimate with great certainty. The father smirked a bit, reminiscing over Friend or Foe II when the two were promptly taken out by Brim?s kind in a dusty shack soon after they met up. He couldn?t even remember the boy?s name since he stored it on his scouter which had been stolen.
?Hello,? he chimed in, trying to catch the boy?s attention after walking up the young lad. He was still a few meters away, which caused the humanoid?s greeting to go unheard. As he was about to step closer and repeat himself, he could feel his body rapidly heat up.
Every part of him began to shake violently, every atom within his body rising to thousands of degrees within a thousandth of a second. Before Seventeen could try and stop the process?or even consciously realize it to its fullest extent?every part of his body vanished form the park, leaving the air that surrounded the being to be very hot, but only a couple hundred degrees, which was a small fraction of what the robot was at.
Seventeen?s eyes were bombarded by the light of the neon sign which stood before him as he reappeared. His body was still violently shaking, but that stopped after a hundredth of a second, which was still long enough for him to feel the effects. He didn?t doubt that this was the work of the people who were in charge of Dante?s Abyss, but he simply dismissed it, having been teleported by others before. The sign that was in-front of him read ?VIP Lounge,? with ?VIP? clearly standing for ?Very Ill-fated People,? or at least that is how the hell fighter interpreted it.
He looked behind him, to see if there was anything other than the door below the glowing sign, but it appeared it was a small room that only gave him one choice other than using his power, but after experiencing the last Dante?s Abyss, he knew that that would quite work. ?Well, then,? he began, grabbing onto the doorknob, ?I guess it?s this way.? He turned the spherical door handle, which was cold to the tough, giving him the chance to enter the room.
He could see three walls, with the two to each of his side lined with twenty-two beds each, making them longer then the adjoining walls. He realized that there was a piece of paper in his hand. It was a folded piece of yellow paper, which when unfolded took the length of ten four inches. On it was written ?#8? in a rather feminine style writing. There was also a smudging of shorts that happened when the paper was folded. Using some identifying tools that his central processing unit had mastery over, he discerned that it used to be in the shape of lips, which had subtle curves to them. The colour was a deep bluish-pink, one that could easily stand out in the hot pinks and rosy reds of current popular culture. His eyes widened at this deduction. It brought his mind to Selipa, the one whom he was sent to kill but ended up falling in love with her. The mere thought of another woman made him think it was an infidelity, so he quickly stashed the paper into his pocket to take it off of his mind.
He tried to alleviate him mind of the lustrous female saiya-jin by deducing the use of his labeling as number eight. He looked around, and he quickly noticed that all of the beds were adorned with a number over each. He looked to his right, reasoning that all of the odd integers would be placed over there, and it just so happened to be the fourth farthest form him. He began walking towards it, passing several others, but keeping his eyes on the bed. As he became but a few feet from it, he noticed that there was a backpack-looking bag sitting atop it, which was also labeled with the infamous ?#8.?
He took a few more steps, though weary of the possible contents. He took the sticky that was placed on top of the bag, noting the same female neatness on the note, but there was no lipstick imprint on this one, only the letters ?X? and ?O? in the formation ?xox xox,? all in lower case. He raised an eyebrow of confusion over this and stuffed this note into his pocket as well, rolling his eyes slowly. He focused himself back onto the backpack, pulling on one of the three zippers that were imparted to it. After opening up the main compartment, he smiled widely. Looking at a piece of fabric that built into the compartment, it showed a small list:
The hell fighter could see the weapon in this compartment, which was in two pieces that could easily be put together, and after some digging he found the ?basic scouter.? He decided not to put it on for not?he would save that for when he arrived on Dante. He opened the next, smaller compartment, which contained his source of food and water. ?Haha, water,? he said, thinking about how devastating it is to his mechanical parts, but how essential it is for his organic constituents. Closing the other two, he loosed into the last one, which was rather small. It contained a map, which felt to be made of a fairly durable material, and a compass, which looked like it was from the early days of international navigation on Earth.
He closed the last compartment, and dropped the bag to the side of the bed. He sat on the mattress, holding his face in his hands. ?I never get the chance to think anymore,? he said, consoling over his missed opportunity to save his daughter form the hellish arlians. He laid down, placing his hands behind his head, trying to concentrate on an event that happened earlier. ?I could have sworn I saw Burter,? he said, forcing the image of the scaly leader?that is, former leader, since it appeared Yamu had things under control with the new Pitch Black and the childlike reptile.
?Seventeen!? Trunks broke in, leaving Thirteen?s side for a moment.
?Trunks?!? he said, sitting up with his arms supporting his upper body.
OOC: Sorry, Goku Junior, but FKC needs to do some schtuff.
Squinting his eyes, Seventeen looked about. The area was very bright and had a lively feel to it, but most of the people in here seemed to serious or apathetic to enjoy the serene view. There were some who had a cheerful fa?ade to their faces, but they were the optimists who wanted to put a brighter outlook on things after finding out what they had signed up for, but their pale cheeks and limping shoulders gave them all away to the robot.
There was one person that the hell fighter recognized among the collected people. The saiyan was average height, appearing to be five feet and nine inches, but his distance away didn?t allow am estimate with great certainty. The father smirked a bit, reminiscing over Friend or Foe II when the two were promptly taken out by Brim?s kind in a dusty shack soon after they met up. He couldn?t even remember the boy?s name since he stored it on his scouter which had been stolen.
?Hello,? he chimed in, trying to catch the boy?s attention after walking up the young lad. He was still a few meters away, which caused the humanoid?s greeting to go unheard. As he was about to step closer and repeat himself, he could feel his body rapidly heat up.
Every part of him began to shake violently, every atom within his body rising to thousands of degrees within a thousandth of a second. Before Seventeen could try and stop the process?or even consciously realize it to its fullest extent?every part of his body vanished form the park, leaving the air that surrounded the being to be very hot, but only a couple hundred degrees, which was a small fraction of what the robot was at.
Seventeen?s eyes were bombarded by the light of the neon sign which stood before him as he reappeared. His body was still violently shaking, but that stopped after a hundredth of a second, which was still long enough for him to feel the effects. He didn?t doubt that this was the work of the people who were in charge of Dante?s Abyss, but he simply dismissed it, having been teleported by others before. The sign that was in-front of him read ?VIP Lounge,? with ?VIP? clearly standing for ?Very Ill-fated People,? or at least that is how the hell fighter interpreted it.
He looked behind him, to see if there was anything other than the door below the glowing sign, but it appeared it was a small room that only gave him one choice other than using his power, but after experiencing the last Dante?s Abyss, he knew that that would quite work. ?Well, then,? he began, grabbing onto the doorknob, ?I guess it?s this way.? He turned the spherical door handle, which was cold to the tough, giving him the chance to enter the room.
He could see three walls, with the two to each of his side lined with twenty-two beds each, making them longer then the adjoining walls. He realized that there was a piece of paper in his hand. It was a folded piece of yellow paper, which when unfolded took the length of ten four inches. On it was written ?#8? in a rather feminine style writing. There was also a smudging of shorts that happened when the paper was folded. Using some identifying tools that his central processing unit had mastery over, he discerned that it used to be in the shape of lips, which had subtle curves to them. The colour was a deep bluish-pink, one that could easily stand out in the hot pinks and rosy reds of current popular culture. His eyes widened at this deduction. It brought his mind to Selipa, the one whom he was sent to kill but ended up falling in love with her. The mere thought of another woman made him think it was an infidelity, so he quickly stashed the paper into his pocket to take it off of his mind.
He tried to alleviate him mind of the lustrous female saiya-jin by deducing the use of his labeling as number eight. He looked around, and he quickly noticed that all of the beds were adorned with a number over each. He looked to his right, reasoning that all of the odd integers would be placed over there, and it just so happened to be the fourth farthest form him. He began walking towards it, passing several others, but keeping his eyes on the bed. As he became but a few feet from it, he noticed that there was a backpack-looking bag sitting atop it, which was also labeled with the infamous ?#8.?
He took a few more steps, though weary of the possible contents. He took the sticky that was placed on top of the bag, noting the same female neatness on the note, but there was no lipstick imprint on this one, only the letters ?X? and ?O? in the formation ?xox xox,? all in lower case. He raised an eyebrow of confusion over this and stuffed this note into his pocket as well, rolling his eyes slowly. He focused himself back onto the backpack, pulling on one of the three zippers that were imparted to it. After opening up the main compartment, he smiled widely. Looking at a piece of fabric that built into the compartment, it showed a small list:
Two day supply of both bread and water.
Compass.
Map.
Basic scouter.
Weapon.
Compass.
Map.
Basic scouter.
Weapon.
The hell fighter could see the weapon in this compartment, which was in two pieces that could easily be put together, and after some digging he found the ?basic scouter.? He decided not to put it on for not?he would save that for when he arrived on Dante. He opened the next, smaller compartment, which contained his source of food and water. ?Haha, water,? he said, thinking about how devastating it is to his mechanical parts, but how essential it is for his organic constituents. Closing the other two, he loosed into the last one, which was rather small. It contained a map, which felt to be made of a fairly durable material, and a compass, which looked like it was from the early days of international navigation on Earth.
He closed the last compartment, and dropped the bag to the side of the bed. He sat on the mattress, holding his face in his hands. ?I never get the chance to think anymore,? he said, consoling over his missed opportunity to save his daughter form the hellish arlians. He laid down, placing his hands behind his head, trying to concentrate on an event that happened earlier. ?I could have sworn I saw Burter,? he said, forcing the image of the scaly leader?that is, former leader, since it appeared Yamu had things under control with the new Pitch Black and the childlike reptile.
?Seventeen!? Trunks broke in, leaving Thirteen?s side for a moment.
?Trunks?!? he said, sitting up with his arms supporting his upper body.
OOC: Sorry, Goku Junior, but FKC needs to do some schtuff.
"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl."
![[Image: HFSeventeen.jpg]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v687/hf17/HFSeventeen.jpg)