05-11-2007, 12:34 PM
A crisp jab cut through the humid air. It hit nothing. It was merely a practice punch. Gokua withdrew the fist he threw forward, back into his guard, which oddly resembled a boxer?s guard?Muhammad Ali, wait, no, maybe Mike Tyson pre-rape crime.
Perspiration trickled down all sides of his face, and began to seep through his now sweat-soaked purple headband. His eyebrows acted like a porch roof, shielding his eyes from the salty sweat, only giving it one option: to run off of the sides, down his cheeks.
He had only been training for a little over two hours, yet his entire body glistened from that sweat. His clothes would have been wet, but he removed his upper body attire before commencing, leaving his chest and arms bare.
His armpits released a foul odor along with the perspiration, which thickened the air. The stench smelled like a mixture of rotten eggs, onions, and raw lemons. It fogged the room with its sheer power, and urged to escape its entrapment. The worst smell, however, was that of his crotch. It smelled like the inside of a football player?s jockstrap that hadn?t been washed for four weeks in a row. It was that horrible nutsack odor.
He trained on.
Another punch was pushed forward?with more power and speed than the last. It sliced through the wind like an antenna on an old Cadillac.
I must get stronger . . .
He was determined to win this new Dante?s Abyss competition. In his perceptive eyes his team bounded him to defeat. He did all that he could, but he was disappointed by the surrounding cast?outnumbered soldiers, Android 16, Paragus, and one-legged Koola. History was not going to repeat itself; he was not losing again. He could still taste the loss. It was fresh on his taste buds, and every moment he thought about it the taste got stronger and bitterer. The only thing that could wash away such a defeat was a win?a win in DA07.
He ceased.
His body had reached its physical peak, and though his mind could have kept him training, he opted to utilize that energy for when the contest actually started.
The training room was bland?gentle lavender walls and a tiled floor that had been overlapped with some cushions to reassure no injuries?evidently not created by the most artistic person in the universe. The door was of typical fashion?wooden, with a gold plated doorknob. The only thing that wasn?t typical was the twenty inch plasma television screen in the far left corner of the room. It hadn?t mounted to the wall, but instead it was holstered by a thickly knit cotton material.
Wow, a television in a fucking training room. Earth?s influence on the universe never ceases to amaze me.
Slowly, a humming sound emerged from the holes drilled on the side. The screen went from pitch black to a barely noticeable gray. The humming sound grew. Gokua wasn?t scared however; who the fuck is scared of T.V.? And if it did transmute into something much more disgustingly frightening, then the Pathosian was a victim of some half-ass Stephen King novel turned movie. It didn?t though. It simply turned on.
Gokua crossed his arms as the screen began to form nonsense of pictures with no vividness. As time progressed, the picture became clearer, and what couldn?t be seen became visible. It was . . . Channel 45: News at 10.
?Today we look on at the sign-up stations for the ever infamous Dante?s Abyss competition. This new 2007 installment is just another frequency in the life of the competition itself, which can date back long ago,? the anchorman said. His eyes were locked forward, obviously staring obliviously at the teleprompter before him. He didn?t even blink. ?It?s a competition where warriors from all over the universe urge to be placed on a remote island where they use their survival skills to outlast the rest of the contestants. Essentially, a barbaric tournament only fit for the mentally insane and suicidal.?
Awesome.
?This year the competition has grown in its popularity; it?s drawn in over one million hopeful contestants. But, as one of the guidelines state, only forty-four shall be accepted to participate, leaving over a million to watch it on their television screens.? The anchorman grasped the papers on the marble desk in front of him and neatly shuffled them, then gathered them back together without flaw. ?Now we go live to our own Susie CarMichael who is at the planet Vegeta sign-up station. CarMichael??
The television shot sporadic gray and black fuzz on the screen. A load sound erupted again, but this time it was a different sound; one like sandpaper being constantly rubbed against sturdy wood. Gokua?s eye twitched and his ears flickered. Then, abruptly, the picture returned; they were at planet Vegeta.
?Good afternoon Jacob Lewinski. Good afternoon universe,? Susie said. Her accent was heavy. It sounded like a sophisticated Japanese immigrant. That?s exactly what she was. ?We are at the Dante?s Abyss sign-up quarters, only three blocks away from the capital itself. Here, contestants sign-up for the most dangerous, yet popular, competition ever formulated. They??
The television had been destroyed; the screen shattered. Gokua had grown tired of the broadcast and launched a chi blast, destroying the picture. ?Don?t give a shit.?
He grabbed his belongings and left the training room; his main objective when entering the training room was complete.
-------------------------------------
OOC: Burts, if you want to enter, be my guest. Just have Burter stop Gokua from leaving or something.
Perspiration trickled down all sides of his face, and began to seep through his now sweat-soaked purple headband. His eyebrows acted like a porch roof, shielding his eyes from the salty sweat, only giving it one option: to run off of the sides, down his cheeks.
He had only been training for a little over two hours, yet his entire body glistened from that sweat. His clothes would have been wet, but he removed his upper body attire before commencing, leaving his chest and arms bare.
His armpits released a foul odor along with the perspiration, which thickened the air. The stench smelled like a mixture of rotten eggs, onions, and raw lemons. It fogged the room with its sheer power, and urged to escape its entrapment. The worst smell, however, was that of his crotch. It smelled like the inside of a football player?s jockstrap that hadn?t been washed for four weeks in a row. It was that horrible nutsack odor.
He trained on.
Another punch was pushed forward?with more power and speed than the last. It sliced through the wind like an antenna on an old Cadillac.
I must get stronger . . .
He was determined to win this new Dante?s Abyss competition. In his perceptive eyes his team bounded him to defeat. He did all that he could, but he was disappointed by the surrounding cast?outnumbered soldiers, Android 16, Paragus, and one-legged Koola. History was not going to repeat itself; he was not losing again. He could still taste the loss. It was fresh on his taste buds, and every moment he thought about it the taste got stronger and bitterer. The only thing that could wash away such a defeat was a win?a win in DA07.
He ceased.
His body had reached its physical peak, and though his mind could have kept him training, he opted to utilize that energy for when the contest actually started.
The training room was bland?gentle lavender walls and a tiled floor that had been overlapped with some cushions to reassure no injuries?evidently not created by the most artistic person in the universe. The door was of typical fashion?wooden, with a gold plated doorknob. The only thing that wasn?t typical was the twenty inch plasma television screen in the far left corner of the room. It hadn?t mounted to the wall, but instead it was holstered by a thickly knit cotton material.
Wow, a television in a fucking training room. Earth?s influence on the universe never ceases to amaze me.
Slowly, a humming sound emerged from the holes drilled on the side. The screen went from pitch black to a barely noticeable gray. The humming sound grew. Gokua wasn?t scared however; who the fuck is scared of T.V.? And if it did transmute into something much more disgustingly frightening, then the Pathosian was a victim of some half-ass Stephen King novel turned movie. It didn?t though. It simply turned on.
Gokua crossed his arms as the screen began to form nonsense of pictures with no vividness. As time progressed, the picture became clearer, and what couldn?t be seen became visible. It was . . . Channel 45: News at 10.
?Today we look on at the sign-up stations for the ever infamous Dante?s Abyss competition. This new 2007 installment is just another frequency in the life of the competition itself, which can date back long ago,? the anchorman said. His eyes were locked forward, obviously staring obliviously at the teleprompter before him. He didn?t even blink. ?It?s a competition where warriors from all over the universe urge to be placed on a remote island where they use their survival skills to outlast the rest of the contestants. Essentially, a barbaric tournament only fit for the mentally insane and suicidal.?
Awesome.
?This year the competition has grown in its popularity; it?s drawn in over one million hopeful contestants. But, as one of the guidelines state, only forty-four shall be accepted to participate, leaving over a million to watch it on their television screens.? The anchorman grasped the papers on the marble desk in front of him and neatly shuffled them, then gathered them back together without flaw. ?Now we go live to our own Susie CarMichael who is at the planet Vegeta sign-up station. CarMichael??
The television shot sporadic gray and black fuzz on the screen. A load sound erupted again, but this time it was a different sound; one like sandpaper being constantly rubbed against sturdy wood. Gokua?s eye twitched and his ears flickered. Then, abruptly, the picture returned; they were at planet Vegeta.
?Good afternoon Jacob Lewinski. Good afternoon universe,? Susie said. Her accent was heavy. It sounded like a sophisticated Japanese immigrant. That?s exactly what she was. ?We are at the Dante?s Abyss sign-up quarters, only three blocks away from the capital itself. Here, contestants sign-up for the most dangerous, yet popular, competition ever formulated. They??
The television had been destroyed; the screen shattered. Gokua had grown tired of the broadcast and launched a chi blast, destroying the picture. ?Don?t give a shit.?
He grabbed his belongings and left the training room; his main objective when entering the training room was complete.
-------------------------------------
OOC: Burts, if you want to enter, be my guest. Just have Burter stop Gokua from leaving or something.
![[Image: 1stAerosig.png]](http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218/Aerogfx/sigs/1stAerosig.png)
Placed 3rd in Dante's Abyss 08