Day Three: Morning

[Bardock]

Bardock?s eye fluttered open. Was this now the second time he had woken up worse than when he conked out? He grunted and fought the pain that sprang unbidden, eye welling with moisture. His skull was on fire. The last thing he could remember was trying to take on?somebody?and then nothing.

The fighter tried to sit up. Not a good idea. A wave of nausea washed over him and overpowered his normally iron-cast constitution. He flopped over and vomited a mixture of stomach acids and blood. When his stomach stopped heaving, his chest took over, taking quick and shallow breaths. With a growl, Bardock pushed himself away from the puddle of puke and started to crawl towards some cover.

Goddamnit. That?s what I fucking get for being in fucking groups a-fucking-gain. At least I didn?t get a hole blasted through me, he thought angrily. On second thought?he reached out to touch the back of his head, and he hissed upon contact. A mere touch stung like a thousand wasps. Pulling back his hand, the saiyan-jin saw it was soaked in blood. Great. Grand. Wonderful.

Hiding under the shade of a tree, he propped himself against its sturdy trunk, letting his neck hang forward. For some reason, his legs didn?t want to work yet.

??Least I got my bag,? he muttered bitterly. Rummaging through its contents, he pulled out a bottle of water and swished away the nasty aftertaste of upchuck, spitting it out as far away as his cheeks could shoot. He checked his pistol. Still holstered, still charged. GPS. Working, at least according to his observation. ?I didn?t even kill anyone.?

And so the question presented itself: now what? He was alone, and he had no idea where he was. His eye was gone, and now he had a big gaping wound in the back of his head. His chances of winning were getting smaller by the hour.

First things first, he had to tend to his new injury. Fortunately, he had stocked up at the food silo, a.k.a. the convenience store. He ripped open a box of band-aids. No good. Too small. The next thing his fingers found was a roll of gauze. Bingo. However, he was going to need to clean it first. He pulled out a plastic tube.

?Neo?sporin?? he sounded out. ?What the hell is this??

He tossed the tube away, and instead found a keg can of beer.

?That?ll work.?

He popped open the top, and took a hearty gulp. Bardock looked for a stick of some sort, and found one small enough to fit his needs. He placed the bit between his teeth, and clamped down. His breathing grew quick, and he braced himself. The fighter tipped the can over and it spilled down the back of his head. The stick silenced what would have been an embarrassing scream as he clamped down even harder. The alcohol nipped as it disinfected the wound. When the deed was done, he bandaged it up the best he knew how, the soft cotton also covering his bad eye.

Now it was time to move. He had to get away from here, wherever ?here? was. Fortunately, he had regained enough balance to stand on his feet, although his coordination was a little off.

?Whoa,? he gushed, his head swimming.

That was when Karl?s announcement came on. Bardock snapped.

?You wanna see something?! Huh?! HERE!? he barked as he turned around and loosened his belt, jerking down his pants and exposing his buttocks. ?Here?s my big?white?ass!! There! That?s somethin? for ya! Big white ass! All right! I?ll bet you?re enjoying that! Yeah!?

With a huff, he pulled them back up and tightened his belt. It was an unusual outburst for him, but the blow to the back of his head had messed with him a little. All of the aggravation Bardock had just caused himself made him a little woozy. He leaned against the tree, but with a burst of determination, he put on his sunglasses, pushed off and began wandering.