It wasn’t difficult spotting the packed kiosk in West City. Its tall spires rose from the barren spread of land like beacons, all golden and red in the early evening sunshine. Great panes of glass covered the front entrance, the metal frame exposed in some new-age architectural display. The almost naked view of the inside coliseum drew the two fighter’s attentions to the massive front bay window. Fighters of all levels and species jammed themselves in the small arena, scurrying in chaotic lines, all in hopes of being one of the chosen forty four to participate in the intergalactic carnage of Dante’s Abyss.
As the ship docked on one of the many pads provided for such crafts, Vi fought back the surge of excitement that threatened to burst from her very core. They had arrived, alive, and in the best condition since their departure from Kajin Rala. She shot Bardock a knowing look that revealed his own anticipation. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, the rather pleased woman watched with bated breath as the ramp of the ship was lowered, the fresh air beating onto their faces in a clean, hot wave, carrying with it the electrical atmosphere of the convention. The pair departed from the ship in silence, weaving their way through the almost solid wall of competitors.
After they departed for Dante, Sky and Briggs would be in charge of the Iron Knuckle until their return to Earth. After that, well, they hadn’t planned that far, yet. The only thing she knew for certain was the overwhelming paranoia that once they left the illustrious planet, what would await them here?
The brief conversation on her Q-Wave had got her thinking, that and the seemingly coincidental announcement of her dropped warrants. She was foolish to think that just because the news says one thing, that the real danger wasn’t out there ready to pounce. The stray thoughts she picked up from Bardock all came down to one point, a point that she herself had been pondering the entire trip to West City.
Setup.
It was an almost perfect opportunity. A highly publicized event like Dante’s Abyss was sure to garner attention; they’d know her every move. They’d watch her, and wait. It all came down to whom she’d face first upon re-entry: Interpol, or Surreo. She was heavily betting the former. The police don’t typically give up a search for a “crazed, heavily armed woman” who is probably waiting to turn on Japan. Seriously, how much shit has she done for these people? Gratitude was small, gratitude didn’t pull the viewers in. Gratuitous violence, insane criminals, psychopathic killers? Sure.
Whatever happened to the old days when there was always some random flower show or other tame events on television?
The line began to move, and soon it was their time to apply. The rough and rowdy Saiyan who championed the last game, was instantly recognized, and accepted without further demonstration, save for a few snapshots for identification. Violet, however, wasn’t as easily discovered.
A short woman with frizzy brown hair shoved a stack of papers clipped to a board towards her. “Have you participated in Dante’s Abyss before, ma’am?” Her nasally voice was like nails on a chalkboard annoying.
“Two years back.” Violet responded, and started flipping through the pamphlet. Signing her name, and vitals, she gave it back to the squat woman.
“Uzumaki, eh?” The woman entered her name onto the small notebook computer shackled to the desk. “You were in the news recently. Good them charges got dropped.”
“You ain’t kidding,” Vi managed a nervous chuckle. Did everyone see her as scary as the media had made her out to be? If they did, this unkempt woman wasn’t one of them. She said a silent thank you, and paused for some snapshots.
“And now, your demonstration, Miss Uzumaki.” She cheerfully announced. A bulky man Vi hadn’t noticed before lumbered from a wall of applicants, smashing his fists together menacingly. “Mario here is going to help you demonstrate your fighting skills so we can get you back to the tubes.”
Mario? She had a brief vision of the well toned man sporting a red jumper and hat, undulating random quips as he plunged from one sewer pipe to the next. The entire fight was cake, as she swiftly disabled the man, her hand to hand expertise had him trapped against the front of her body, his arms twisted behind him and held in place by one hand, the other hovering dangerously near with a small ball of chi glowing in its palm.
“Accepted.”
The ball of energy absorbed back into her flesh, and she released her victim. “Tubes are back there,” the woman pointed in the direction Bardock had went, and not having to be told twice, she scooped up her pack and hurried back to the teleportation area.
OOC: Signing both me and Bardock up for DA.
As the ship docked on one of the many pads provided for such crafts, Vi fought back the surge of excitement that threatened to burst from her very core. They had arrived, alive, and in the best condition since their departure from Kajin Rala. She shot Bardock a knowing look that revealed his own anticipation. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, the rather pleased woman watched with bated breath as the ramp of the ship was lowered, the fresh air beating onto their faces in a clean, hot wave, carrying with it the electrical atmosphere of the convention. The pair departed from the ship in silence, weaving their way through the almost solid wall of competitors.
After they departed for Dante, Sky and Briggs would be in charge of the Iron Knuckle until their return to Earth. After that, well, they hadn’t planned that far, yet. The only thing she knew for certain was the overwhelming paranoia that once they left the illustrious planet, what would await them here?
The brief conversation on her Q-Wave had got her thinking, that and the seemingly coincidental announcement of her dropped warrants. She was foolish to think that just because the news says one thing, that the real danger wasn’t out there ready to pounce. The stray thoughts she picked up from Bardock all came down to one point, a point that she herself had been pondering the entire trip to West City.
Setup.
It was an almost perfect opportunity. A highly publicized event like Dante’s Abyss was sure to garner attention; they’d know her every move. They’d watch her, and wait. It all came down to whom she’d face first upon re-entry: Interpol, or Surreo. She was heavily betting the former. The police don’t typically give up a search for a “crazed, heavily armed woman” who is probably waiting to turn on Japan. Seriously, how much shit has she done for these people? Gratitude was small, gratitude didn’t pull the viewers in. Gratuitous violence, insane criminals, psychopathic killers? Sure.
Whatever happened to the old days when there was always some random flower show or other tame events on television?
The line began to move, and soon it was their time to apply. The rough and rowdy Saiyan who championed the last game, was instantly recognized, and accepted without further demonstration, save for a few snapshots for identification. Violet, however, wasn’t as easily discovered.
A short woman with frizzy brown hair shoved a stack of papers clipped to a board towards her. “Have you participated in Dante’s Abyss before, ma’am?” Her nasally voice was like nails on a chalkboard annoying.
“Two years back.” Violet responded, and started flipping through the pamphlet. Signing her name, and vitals, she gave it back to the squat woman.
“Uzumaki, eh?” The woman entered her name onto the small notebook computer shackled to the desk. “You were in the news recently. Good them charges got dropped.”
“You ain’t kidding,” Vi managed a nervous chuckle. Did everyone see her as scary as the media had made her out to be? If they did, this unkempt woman wasn’t one of them. She said a silent thank you, and paused for some snapshots.
“And now, your demonstration, Miss Uzumaki.” She cheerfully announced. A bulky man Vi hadn’t noticed before lumbered from a wall of applicants, smashing his fists together menacingly. “Mario here is going to help you demonstrate your fighting skills so we can get you back to the tubes.”
Mario? She had a brief vision of the well toned man sporting a red jumper and hat, undulating random quips as he plunged from one sewer pipe to the next. The entire fight was cake, as she swiftly disabled the man, her hand to hand expertise had him trapped against the front of her body, his arms twisted behind him and held in place by one hand, the other hovering dangerously near with a small ball of chi glowing in its palm.
“Accepted.”
The ball of energy absorbed back into her flesh, and she released her victim. “Tubes are back there,” the woman pointed in the direction Bardock had went, and not having to be told twice, she scooped up her pack and hurried back to the teleportation area.
OOC: Signing both me and Bardock up for DA.
![[Image: visigjune08_v2.jpg]](http://storm.novahost.org/mysigs/visigjune08_v2.jpg)
Fuck you, Photobucket.