Day One: Early Morning

[Hellfighter 17]

OOC: I don't care if it's long, it was the only way to convey all that I felt I needed to.

The VIP Lounge had become crowded within a matter of minutes. There were only half a dozen or so when he had entered the room, and in less than five minutes there were at least thirty more. He scanned the room. Several of the fighters were on their respective beds, just lying with their hands behind their head. Seventeen did not need to see their faces to know that they bared narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. These were the type of fighters that would go solo for the most part, but they?d be doomed to death later on.

Some others were in fairly large groups. A few select of them were lively talkers, gaining laughs and nods of approval?the ?pretty boys,? as Seventeen labeled them. They were mainly conversing with others who were kempt and clean, and did not seem to belong in such a horrific tournament; if anybody belonged in such a tournament.

Then there were those of the hell fighter who had taken enough of the chittering chattering and the aligning of groups. He knew he would probably stick close to Trunks, since, other than Bra, that is the only one that he really knew, and it seemed that Bra had gone under some transmogrification which left her in a state of confusion as to who some people were. He never was too close to the princess, but he still had respect for her, especially since she was adept at the art of sarcasm, and who could not like that.

Seventeen walked over to his bed, but instead of lying on it, he sat on it and reached for his backpack that he had thrown on the floor. He brought it up to his lap, and opened the first compartment, eyeing his weapon carefully. It was quite surprising that it came in two pieces, but they seemed to be easily reattachable. He traced it for any hint of impurities, but there seemed to be no such scratches or dents in the beauty. The hell fighter was particularly fond of his, finding delight that he would get that kind of a weapon?it did not seem like something you would get for a tournament. However that may be, he decided it would be best to keep it on the down-low, and thus he checked it while it was inside the black bag.

The ship suddenly jerked, with the android?s bead moving a tiny fraction of an inch. He looked around, trying to find a reason for this. Suddenly a speaker, in the far left corner of the room, which the humanoid had noted when he walked into the room, began to emit sounds throughout the room. Seventeen took little notice of this, since all that this Karl Jak was saying was fairly obvious, except for the seven day rule, which did not carry much importance to the hell fighter who did not want to be here anyway.

***

The reintegration phase of teleportation was the hell fighter?s favourite. The sudden whoosh as your body temperature dramatically dropped and your individual molecules made sure to find their place?very invigorating, or at least for the humanoid, who could feel the organic and metallic components of his being shift to their proper places, unlike most other living creatures. As he shook some of the dandruff that had collected atop of his scalp from the teleportation, he looked around, bewildered. As far as he could tell, it was all grasslands. Remembering what the host had said, he looked to his map. As to Karl?s word, there was a little ?X? in a square which denoted where he currently was. ?Heh,? the hell fighter said aloud, realizing he was in the middle of nowhere as far as the eye could tell, but the workers of Syntex knew exactly where he was.

Stuffing the laminated map back into the smallest compartment of his back, he began to walk. He kept his compass out, which helped him keep track of where he was going. The needle was directed toward the android at first, most likely because of the magnetic porperti of the currents within him. ?Well, this is useless then, huh?? he said, a bit perturbed at the uselessness of the tool. ?Wait a second. . .? Seventeen closed his eyes, and within half a second his energy output greatly diminished. He quickly looked to the compass, which soon pointed in a different direction now. He completed the same routine as before, but now his output increased, and if he had sustained in that state for much longer he would have died, though he knew his internal workings well enough o make sure that would not happen.

Remembering the direction of the needle, he mentally mapped out which path would be the most successful, as per the map which he had registered in his brain. Just before moving out, he snapped his fingers. ?Almost forgot!? He peered into the back compartment again, and he found what he had forgotten earlier. He placed the scouter atop his head, and started messing around with the controls. He immediately found out form the built-in tutorial that this specific scouter was only accommodated to read the power levels of those who were in a range of one-hundred meters. He shrugged this off, as the device was merely a plus, and he began his venture.

The walk was boring, but the hell fighter did not want to waste any energy by running, so this would have to do?besides, it is not like he had a strategy for a game he did not want to be in. After a fair amount of time, about half of an hour, two people came into view. His optical receptors were not fitted at the time to make put who they were, but after some adjustments that his central processing unit dealt with, his eyes then adapted and he could make out more clearly who they were. One of them was a wrinkly green while the other had lavender hair tied to the back of their head?obviously Kami and Trunks.