05-29-2008, 09:08 AM
His search was short-lived. The fighter had quickly pounded down the remaining beer from their table, and no sooner had he began to decide which exit she had taken, then did an explosion rip through one of the walls. Coolly, Bardock noted that the explosion happened to be the very person he was looking for, and it looked like she hadn’t gotten very far. Just as he was about to investigate why Violet was flying through concrete, the saiya-jin also noticed the second brawler, and not someone he particularly wanted to approach until pre-game was over: Android Seventeen. The young cyborg, crazed beyond all hell, had nearly been the one to finish Bardock off. Although, the android’s mind was so wrapped in delusion that he might not even remember their two encounters, as Seventeen was under the distinct impression that Bardock had been Super Buu. Regardless, the saiyan felt it best not to interfere. It wasn’t yet time to unleash his primal wrath. Instead, he picked a comfortable spot and waited for the little tiff to be over, leaning against a table and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes immediately picked her up as she slinked back into the bar, a long, nasty-looking slash lining a trail of crimson along her shoulder.
Stupid, he thought expressionlessly. Fighting was what they were all here for, but why handicap yourself before the real fun even began? It just wasn’t a smart move. Bardock couldn’t help but wonder why she was even fighting the android in the first place. He racked his brain, trying unsuccessfully to connect the two, and was reminded just how little he knew about either of them. As he traced his memory of Violet back as far as he could go, it hit him in a flash of imagery, and the saiyan couldn’t believe he’d missed it. His first, and still one of the most prominent, recollections: Seventeen had been in the brutal and bloody alliance war two years ago. So he’s one of those “clansmen” she was talking about… he pieced together at last.
After she’d made her way to the counter and asked for towels, she shot a look in his direction, obviously aware of his presence from afar. Bardock’s face remained stony, but his eyes betrayed the rush of confusion that swelled beneath their ebony depths as hers locked on. The human resumed her patch job, completely absorbed in the process. He watched her, trying to make sense of things. His carefully constructed walls were being threatened, and he had to figure out why. But the fighter quickly found he wasn’t going to come to the solution on his own, much to his irritation. When finished, Violet retreated to a far corner, as distanced as possible while still remaining in the sanctuary of the establishment.
Bardock’s lips curled sourly. This stuff didn’t make any sense to him. Unfolding his arms, the bronze bruiser set off into a sea of lights and sounds, searching for something that did. He passed rows of video games in the arcade section of the bar, machines that mystified him and chased away the lingering thoughts of the human. He came across one that was perfectly self-explanatory. A young punk kid was standing next to a sensor, postured into a boxing stance. His scrawny right arm snaked out, striking the sensor, and a meter on the screen above rose from red to yellow, words flashing across: ‘Weak sauce.’ Apparently, the meter measured the strength of the fighter and labeled them accordingly. The teenager spotted the former soldier, and upon recognizing him, offered to let Bardock give it a try. The saiya-jin clenched his fingers into a fist, and lashed at the sensor. The little meter bar barely tipped the red zone, and the animated sequence of words slid onscreen: ‘Girly man!’
Somewhat frustrated that the kid had gotten a better score, Bardock cocked his arm back and tried again. This time he grunted with the strike, and the gauge jumped up to a mixture of yellow and green, the fighter’s coal-black eyes following the letters that formed: ‘Superman!’
A smile cracked across his face, but quickly vanished with the next and final exertion. The measuring device spiked to the top, and a flash of golden lights and sparks paraded on the screen as it proudly displayed: ‘Dante Champ!’
If they weren’t announcing the start of the tournament anytime soon, at least Bardock could amuse himself for a while. Deciding that the fighting games were entertaining, he went off in search of the next one.
Stupid, he thought expressionlessly. Fighting was what they were all here for, but why handicap yourself before the real fun even began? It just wasn’t a smart move. Bardock couldn’t help but wonder why she was even fighting the android in the first place. He racked his brain, trying unsuccessfully to connect the two, and was reminded just how little he knew about either of them. As he traced his memory of Violet back as far as he could go, it hit him in a flash of imagery, and the saiyan couldn’t believe he’d missed it. His first, and still one of the most prominent, recollections: Seventeen had been in the brutal and bloody alliance war two years ago. So he’s one of those “clansmen” she was talking about… he pieced together at last.
After she’d made her way to the counter and asked for towels, she shot a look in his direction, obviously aware of his presence from afar. Bardock’s face remained stony, but his eyes betrayed the rush of confusion that swelled beneath their ebony depths as hers locked on. The human resumed her patch job, completely absorbed in the process. He watched her, trying to make sense of things. His carefully constructed walls were being threatened, and he had to figure out why. But the fighter quickly found he wasn’t going to come to the solution on his own, much to his irritation. When finished, Violet retreated to a far corner, as distanced as possible while still remaining in the sanctuary of the establishment.
Bardock’s lips curled sourly. This stuff didn’t make any sense to him. Unfolding his arms, the bronze bruiser set off into a sea of lights and sounds, searching for something that did. He passed rows of video games in the arcade section of the bar, machines that mystified him and chased away the lingering thoughts of the human. He came across one that was perfectly self-explanatory. A young punk kid was standing next to a sensor, postured into a boxing stance. His scrawny right arm snaked out, striking the sensor, and a meter on the screen above rose from red to yellow, words flashing across: ‘Weak sauce.’ Apparently, the meter measured the strength of the fighter and labeled them accordingly. The teenager spotted the former soldier, and upon recognizing him, offered to let Bardock give it a try. The saiya-jin clenched his fingers into a fist, and lashed at the sensor. The little meter bar barely tipped the red zone, and the animated sequence of words slid onscreen: ‘Girly man!’
Somewhat frustrated that the kid had gotten a better score, Bardock cocked his arm back and tried again. This time he grunted with the strike, and the gauge jumped up to a mixture of yellow and green, the fighter’s coal-black eyes following the letters that formed: ‘Superman!’
A smile cracked across his face, but quickly vanished with the next and final exertion. The measuring device spiked to the top, and a flash of golden lights and sparks paraded on the screen as it proudly displayed: ‘Dante Champ!’
If they weren’t announcing the start of the tournament anytime soon, at least Bardock could amuse himself for a while. Deciding that the fighting games were entertaining, he went off in search of the next one.
[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=_