05-19-2007, 08:56 PM
The first place the old soldier went, as usual, was the bar. He had started out the last contest with his pre-battle ritual of the drink, and he would start out this one as well. The facilities this year were somewhat different than the last, but Bardock found the bar quite easily, having almost internal radar for their whereabouts. The saiyan eased onto one of the few remaining barstools, and ordered a large bottle of whiskey.
He glanced around. This pub was packed. It seemed like almost every contestant wannabe was lurking around the dive. He laced his fingers together and folded them under his chin thoughtfully. Now was the time to plan. As he was aware, the dynamics of the game weren?t too different from the time before.
Forty-four contestants, and I?ve gotta kill all of ?em, he thought grimly. As much as he would have liked to deny it, it was more difficult than it sounded. He was confident in his fighting ability, and there was precious little room for doubt.
One thing was for certain: no alliances this time. Having the security blanket of stronger fighters had helped him get far, but ultimately led him to his downfall. This, however, made him grin.
Everyone will be looking for you, Raditzu, he chuckled inwardly. His eldest son, the strongest of them all, had been the final victor of the previous game. The smirk, however, didn?t last long. That means I will be too.
?Here?s yer drink, mac,? the barkeep said, slamming the bottle down on the counter and placing a shot glass next to it.
Bardock looked at the shot glass. ?Pfft.?
With a swipe of his hand, Bardock knocked it off the counter, and the bartender heard the distinctive shattering sound that followed. However, with the company he was keeping in this establishment, there was little he was going to do about it. The saiyan popped the top off and took a generous swig of the bottle?s contents. No burn followed, but the liquid?s seductive taste warmed his insides.
The saiya-jin looked around once more. Everyone else was clamoring excitedly about something or other. In one way or another, they were all preparing themselves for the contest, just waiting to be collected for the final cast. He already seemed at a disadvantage. The energy they put forth challenged his odds of winning.
No sooner had he begun to work on the rest of his bottle did two large men bearing the Syntex emblem approach him.
The fighter raised his hand as one of them reached out to grab his shoulder.
?I know. I?ve been picked,? he pre-empted.
?Yes,? one of the goons replied, withdrawing his mammoth arm. ?Congratulations, sir, you are contestant number nine in this year?s Dante?s Abyss. Please come with us.?
Bardock snorted. Every single one of these Syntex employees must have had a script hardwired into their brain. They could have at least been somewhat original with their lines. He grabbed his whiskey bottle, slid off the barstool. His face grew serious and expressionless. Other potential contestants were still around. Other than the bottle of whiskey and his garb, he would give nothing else away.
He glanced around. This pub was packed. It seemed like almost every contestant wannabe was lurking around the dive. He laced his fingers together and folded them under his chin thoughtfully. Now was the time to plan. As he was aware, the dynamics of the game weren?t too different from the time before.
Forty-four contestants, and I?ve gotta kill all of ?em, he thought grimly. As much as he would have liked to deny it, it was more difficult than it sounded. He was confident in his fighting ability, and there was precious little room for doubt.
One thing was for certain: no alliances this time. Having the security blanket of stronger fighters had helped him get far, but ultimately led him to his downfall. This, however, made him grin.
Everyone will be looking for you, Raditzu, he chuckled inwardly. His eldest son, the strongest of them all, had been the final victor of the previous game. The smirk, however, didn?t last long. That means I will be too.
?Here?s yer drink, mac,? the barkeep said, slamming the bottle down on the counter and placing a shot glass next to it.
Bardock looked at the shot glass. ?Pfft.?
With a swipe of his hand, Bardock knocked it off the counter, and the bartender heard the distinctive shattering sound that followed. However, with the company he was keeping in this establishment, there was little he was going to do about it. The saiyan popped the top off and took a generous swig of the bottle?s contents. No burn followed, but the liquid?s seductive taste warmed his insides.
The saiya-jin looked around once more. Everyone else was clamoring excitedly about something or other. In one way or another, they were all preparing themselves for the contest, just waiting to be collected for the final cast. He already seemed at a disadvantage. The energy they put forth challenged his odds of winning.
No sooner had he begun to work on the rest of his bottle did two large men bearing the Syntex emblem approach him.
The fighter raised his hand as one of them reached out to grab his shoulder.
?I know. I?ve been picked,? he pre-empted.
?Yes,? one of the goons replied, withdrawing his mammoth arm. ?Congratulations, sir, you are contestant number nine in this year?s Dante?s Abyss. Please come with us.?
Bardock snorted. Every single one of these Syntex employees must have had a script hardwired into their brain. They could have at least been somewhat original with their lines. He grabbed his whiskey bottle, slid off the barstool. His face grew serious and expressionless. Other potential contestants were still around. Other than the bottle of whiskey and his garb, he would give nothing else away.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
_=Pass you by, it's all in this life you have
Pass you by, good-bye to you=_
Pass you by, good-bye to you=_