[PS] Barracks

[Aero]

?What is your current location, P12??

?I?m taking the suspect down the elevator to the barracks, copy that.?

?Has he been pardoned??

?Confirmed.?

?All right.?

?Yeah, P13?s with me.?

?Copy that.?


The elevator doors opened, scraping against the doorway; years of rust had taken its toll. The figures stood strong within the confines of the elevator. One of them was shackled with handcuffs?on his wrists and ankles?and the other two stood on each side of him, their hands firmly grasping his arms. They exited the elevator.

Gokua was the arrested fellow, and the other two figures were DA guards. The larger of the two?on Gokua?s left side?was an over-exaggerated meathead. His muscles bulged from their positions and his chest poked out like a proud hooker. His head was completely bald, shaven by an old fashion flip-out razor. Sunglasses shielded and shrouded his eyes. They were cheap, the dollar store kind.

The fellow on Gokua?s other side was the average man. His hair was cut close, but there was enough remaining for his wife to yank on during sex?a corn color. His eyes, unlike his coworker?s, were not veiled behind sunglasses; they were a sky blue. His muscles were big as well, but not nearly as steroid-created as the other.

Sporadic messages screamed out of the walkie-talkie on the larger guard?s shoulder. It was the same voice Gokua heard from the elevator. It was a sweet voice, one that reminded the Pathosian of a calming operator working night-shift for 911.


?Have you reached the barracks yet??

?Confirmed.? The bulky guard had a predictable I-want-to-be-a-badass voice, mixed with some grunting.

Gokua?s eyes were set straight, gazing forward at what seemed to an eternity of cots. Fellow DA contestants lay in their cots reading various books on the competition itself, hopelessly searching for that edge.

The guards urged Gokua forward, tugging on his arms to turn him in particular directions. Gokua cooperated.

?You?re lucky that you?ve been pardoned for killing that other contestant,? the meathead remarked.

?You?re lucky that I feel like cooperating,? Gokua replied with an easy grin spreading across his face.

The other guard looked over at the arrogant alien as they began to walk slower. ?Hey fella, just keep the mood good and we?ll be done with ya?.?

?Good cop bad cop? Wait, no, asshole cop and cool cop??

The larger guard grabbed his walkie-talkie and tugged it closer to his mouth. ?Where are we taking this guy exactly? The douche is pissing me off.?

?A bit further?to cot number eight.?

?Copy that.?

?Bill,? the meathead said, ?Take him to cot eight. I can?t stand this asshole any longer.?

?Gotcha? John,? he replied.

John removed his hand from Gokua?s arm and walked away, back to that elevator.

?So . . .? John glanced over at the swordsman. ?Think you could find your way to that cot??

?Of course.?

?All right then, it?s settled. I?ll let you walk there.?

?Awesome.?

Bill then released Gokua?s arm and drew a key from his pocket. Quickly, he unlocked the shackles on Gokua?s wrists and ankles, then left. The swordsman brought his hand together and caressed his wrists with the opposite hand, easing away the slight pain.

Gokua looked at his cot. It had been made quite nicely. The spread was without a wrinkle and folded back right where the pillow was placed. Not bad. Gokua noticed a small pocket hanging from the side of the bed. It was holstering another manual, the manual he received when signing up. He picked it up and lay on the bed.




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OOC: Feel free to interact with Gokua. =o

[OldPikkon]

Pikkon stood shocked, as two security guards charged into the barracks, dropping his food they seemed to be coming right at him. He prepared himself, not willing to go out without a fight. As they approached he noticed that their vision was not set on him but was focused on the warrior sitting next to him, Doma. Nothing was said as the security guards forcefully attacked the warrior, Pikkon sat back shocked but not willing to jump in, the security guards restrained Doma but handcuffing him, they then proceeded to escort him towards the elevator. Every entrant that was located in the barracks stood quietly as the security guards entered the elevator followed closely by the deceitful Doma. Pressing a button on the elevators control panel the doors shut, and that was the last that was to be seen of Doma. Evicted from Dante?s Abyss for deception.

Pikkon sat silently collecting his thoughts, soon the elevators could be heard yet again approaching the barracks; most of the warriors surrounding the elevator door relocated themselves not knowing what would soon come through when the doors opened again. A small android entered the barracks once the doors opened up, Pikkon sighed relieved that nothing to intense was happening. He watched the android as he walked around the barracks trying to locate his own bed.

The small android ran into a few funny scenes and Pikkon sat back watching and laughing remembering the same things happening when he first entered the barracks. Once the small android finally settled down onto his designated bed Pikkon decided to go and introduce himself, having nothing else of any importance to do.

The green warrior walked through the barracks unblinking and not interested in what the other contestants where doing with there time as they awaited the beginning of DA. Reaching the small androids bed he noticed that the small cyborg was asleep. Chuckling to himself Pikkon decided to let the little guy sleep.

Retreating to his own hard surfaced bed, Pikkon sat down; he knew that DA was closing in and that it would not be long until the fighting began. He hoped to god that he could find his allies quickly before to many confrontations. He then remembered the weapon that he had been randomly given upon entering the barracks. He let out a small smirk as he thought of the many possibilities it held to ending an opponent?s life.

Feeling tired and bored, Pikkon decided it was a good idea to rest before the competition began, laying down on the uncomfortable surface he slowly closed his eyes and began to dream about winning this stupid TV competition that he had ran across in the street.

OOC - not a great RP, but I got a little bored so thought i'd write something.

[Orion]

"Son."

Koola heard the familiar voice of his father from behind. He turned to see the gargantuan emperor approaching. It had been a long time.

"Father," the prince returned in kind.

King Cold reached him, gave a quick greeting to the old man Koola had been bickering with, and returned his attention.

"I must say Koola, I was surprised."

The younger Icer shot a quizzical glance. "About what?"

"I might've heard wrong, but aren't you the one who resurrected me?"

"With your money."

"That's beside the point." King Cold folded his arms. "With me in the afterlife, you would be crowned the new dictator of my empire. Why didn't you take up my mantle?"

Koola didn't know how to answer. "I don't know. I just thought you would enjoy rampaging through this tournament and killing people." Plus, Koola thought to himself, this way there was a good chance that I would know for sure that you were dead.

Cold wasn't easily fooled, and his son was easy to see through. There was another reason, but until he could work it out, he stayed silent.

"That's very generous of you, son."

"I do what I can."

The caped king swept his gaze over the other humanoids that waited impatiently int he bunker with them. Many were conversing with others, while a few introverts kept to themselves, rifling through their bags, losing themselves in thought. Koola didn't seem impressed or worried with the competition before him, but then again, he always put up a front.

"What do you think of your chances this year, son?" Cold inquired as they both overlooked the bunker.

"Much better than last," Koola replied confidently. "And not because of the competition. I've been training. I even think I'm on the verge of learning my ultimate transformation."

Cold chuckled. "Think you can beat your old dad?"

"Well, that remains to be seen. Besides, I thought we'd run together. What do you think?"

[Raspberry]

?Yo number 30 come here!? Shouted a middle aged man.

Raspberry didn?t say anything, since he didn?t understand that it was his number. The soldier came to the grotor-jin and started to poke on him, he started to show directions with his fingers to Rasp. The reptile started to glare at the soldier seeing the rifle, he could not say a word. He was a bit insecure about this thing he was getting him self into.

?Maybe I should listen sometimes when someone tells me about things... Like the woman who wanted me to this competition anyways... I should learn. I bet she was telling me something really important about this...this... Well whatever this is.?

The man was pointing towards a door, Raspberry was trying to be tough about the situation, he started to push the door but the door didn?t budge. The reptilian warrior was starting to lose it he was pounding the door with weak punches just not to break the door.

?It?s an elevator press the button you stupid piece of crap,? the soldier said with an angry sound.

The alien gator started pressing the button rapidly waiting to get rid of the schizophrenic soldier before he was starting to shoot. But the elevator came down real slow. The gator-like warrior was trying to remember what this was all about; he was pushing himself against the elevator door and was wondering if he did listen anything at all.

Suddenly the elevator door opened and the reptile fell on the ground, there were two more people in the elevator. Raspberry tried to peek at the men before actually staring at them, two men with army suits and guns...Rasp was getting worried about this DA thing, he started to think harder and he remembered everything.

?Such a moron I am, I came here for... nothing I just said the word ?sure?... Damn I?m dumb well it can?t help anymore. Maybe I?ll find some friends.?

He came finally up from the ground when the elevator doors opened again in some kind of barracks, the soldiers staid in the elevator and Raspberry ran into one of the barracks. He saw a bunch of beds and people, he walked past them until there was the number, the number 30.

?This must be my bed since it?s got the same number on it as what they say I have...Thirty, are there thirty people here or what? He went on the bed to lie down, he started to remember the youth that was bothering him... This place wont stop me I?m going to solve the mystery about my family race and planet...I just got to kill everyone here first I presume.?

He closed his eyes and wanted to somehow see into the future to see how this competition is going to go... Live or Die that?s the question for Raspberry.

(OOC: Okay so I was bored wrote this so im like in the Barracks chilling...)

[Bardock]

Reading. Gah. Bardock hated reading. Fortunately, he was done. No more reading. Damn reading. Although he was a meathead, he made careful sure to absorb all of the information. The attendant returned to reshelf the electronic article.

More contestants had arrived. All of the unoccupied beds were beginning to fill. Bardock was careful to observe his competition until he felt he had gotten a good enough read to move on to the next persons. This would help him form his strategy. He needed to know how to move, how to think, how to act. One man versus forty-four was going to be a difficult task. There was security in numbers, but he had no trust for anyone this time around.

A chorus of voices erupted from some of the more belligerent contestants who wanted to make their presence known. The cameras were eating it up. Bardock inwardly shook his head in disgust. They were sounding off their arrogance, their overconfidence, and ultimately, their fear. Anyone who needed to speak their superiority with words over actions would never last.

The sly eagle hides his claws.

The saiyan kept his poker face, even as he glanced at the clock on the wall. There was very little time before the game was to begin. His shifty eyes darted around the room once more. The reporters had cleared and moved on to other contestants. The fighter?s brow twitched. Bra moved towards her number. He forced himself to look away. That absolution came and went a long time ago. Died when their alliance was broken.

No friends. Only enemies, he convinced himself. You kill them or they kill you.

He couldn?t afford to lose focus. Survival was his only goal. Nothing else.

You?re the killer. You?re the hunter. You?re the killer. You?re the hunter, he drummed. Smarter. Stronger. Faster. Better.

His thoughts narrowed to these single concepts. Visualize to win.

You?re the killer. You?re the hunter. Smarter. Stronger. Faster. Better. You?re the killer. You?re the hunter. Smarter. Stronger. Faster. Better.

[Tapion]

OOC: Short, but I had to get something up before the show began...

With the low accompanying hum of machinery and gadgets far beyond Tapion?s realm of understanding the dual electronic doors slid apart into their adjacent hiding places inside of the very walls themselves. A faint ?tck? echoed as the Konat?s heavy combat boots made first contact with the plain tiled floor underneath him, the barrack?s newest occupant calmly walked past the man made threshold now behind him and into the vast white washed room he had been sent to.

To say the least, it was not the most visually pleasing atmosphere the non-transformer had ever been in. Four plain white walls enclosing forty four less then comfortable looking beds, the loud buzz of interaction lingering as most of the room?s occupants ideally chatted away waiting for the games to begin. Tapion grunted upon gazing out into the vast crowds scattered across the room, at a glance he saw no familiar faces and the faces he did see he found no interest in.

?Number 21, Tapion?? the dainty voice of a small framed young woman suddenly cut into the non-transformer?s consciousness. Retorting only with a slight nod of his head the crimson haired fighter acknowledged the women standing beside him whom he had now noticed wore a small Dante?s Abyss button pinned upon her red vest.

?Welcome to the barracks, you will be stationed here until the official festivities commence. Feel free to interact with your fellow participants until game time, but be aware that any fighting will result in your immediate removal from this competition.?

?Than~? before being allowed to slur out the last syllable of his chosen word the non-transformer was abruptly interrupted by the quick tongued women. ?Oh yeah!? she quickly blurted out, ?Your entry number is also the same number bed which you will be assigned, so you?ll be looking for cot number 21.?

Taking an extra moment to assure that the women had defiantly ended speaking this time Tapion then thanked the DA official and as quickly as his feet would carry him without making his hurried pace obvious began treading towards his assigned bed.

[Retane]

"Please remove all weapons from your person and place them on the counter", stated the Syntech drone, motioning to the table with a hand. The other hand was occupied holding an ever familiar collar. The mercenary winced at the command and looked down upon him. The items he had about him were extensions of himself. Each intracate weapon proved valuble at one time or another and he was fairly skilled with all of them.

Giving no sign of protest, the assassin first reached for his lower back, grabbing the twin rods, and a slightly smaller rod, and placed them upon the table. Next were the gauntlets, his hands slid over their smooth frame and with simple flicks of the fingers, the oversized cuffs fell with a clank. The mercenary paused for a moment, his eyes slightly shifting down toward his belt, where in a ppouch rested the Cards of Destiny. Retane had no plans of relinquishing his precious deck to anyone and figured they would come in handy within the Abyss. His eyes connected with the tall black haired human, letting him know that he was done.

A smile pursed the humans visage as he gave the assassin a sly look. He raised the collar and, with a simple gesture, offered for Retane to take it and put it on. The rogue did and caught the sinister glee within the Hosts eye and gave him a curious glance. Clasping the neck bomb around his flesh his suspicions that something was up with the Syntech soldier were comfirmed.

"Just so you know, if you are caught with any kind of weapon other then the ones in the Abyss, you're collar will explode, sending you to the after life. Are you sure that's all your weapons?" The soldier looked down at the belt, telling the namekian that he knew all to well what the pouch contained.

He hesitated, only for a moment but reached for the pouch and flipped it open, his slender jade appendages removing the Deck of Cards he so dearly cherished. He opened the box and produced two cards, the King of Hearts and Diamonds. The Suicide King and Killer King. Placing the remaining cards on the table, he fingered the Kings, noticing their ever so sharp edges. He looked back at the human and offered a freindly grin. "Every weapon right?"

The soldier nodded still grinning.

With a quick flash, and the simple flick of the wrists, both cards stuck into the edges of the table. Also upon the table were two new weapons, weapons given to Retane at birth. His hands seperated from his body with clean, smooth cuts of the cards.

Retane flashed an even bigger smile at the soldier. In turn the humans smile vansihed and showed pure disgust.

With a slight 'Hmph' of satisfaction, the namekian pushed past the soldier, and made his way to the barracks.

He shoved into the roomnot missing a beat and moved towards hit cot. Catching the eyes of a few, he understood that he had two trials of blood following him and conceentrated his energy in replacing his lost limbs. He knew that when the collar was active, his birth given gift would no longer be of any use to him. He made his way down the line. Letting out a slow growl as he felt his wrist begin to churn. By the time he reached his bed, his hands exploded out of his limbs, in a gush of blood. He tried to move his fingers but already knew they were numb and needed time to recooperate.

A quick glance around him showed him that him that he several people were around that he knew, his eyes first landing on Minoshia. Harsemen were dead. He had disbanded them. What did it mean then now? Were theycomrades still? Or perhaps enemies? In the Abyss it didn't matter, in the end everyone was enemies.

[Mowgli]

"You've been accepted as an official member in Dante?s Abyss; please report to the barracks as soon as you can." Said a red haired woman who was approaching the young warrior. Her words forced a feeling of excitement to overcome him as they registered. I was accepted? The boy wondered to himself, playing back her words within his mind, as a smile spread across his face.

?Do you need me to take you to the barracks, sweetie?? She then asked.

Once again with nothing more than a head gesture, Junior responded: yes. Returning his cheesy smile with one of her own, the female then spoke once more. ?Right this way.?

Wasting no more time she turned away from the boy and proceeded to lead the young warrior to an elevator that was located at the rear of the bar. Its distance from him was little, so was the time it took to reach it.

The metal door that now stood before the saiya-jin slowly slid to his right, making way for the hybrid; revealing to him a titanium reinforced interior; his temporary cage. Allowing his once wide smile to leave his face, Junior watched as the woman entered the metallic cubicle, naturally he followed suit.

This is it. No turning back now.

The red head remained near what seemed to be some sort of control panel; watching patiently as the door that had granted the two entrance closed shut. After the final click of the door?s locking mechanism, the female then swiped a card through a slot and pressed one of 3 glowing buttons. In seconds the elevator?s pressure seemed to change as it began to make its way down the cable line that supported it. Within the metallic cubicle a light hum could be heard as its engine vibrated while working; inching the two closer to the barracks with each passing second.

Few seconds passed before the inevitable occurred; they had reached their stop. Junior?s eyes narrowed as the metallic door slid open in the same manner it had before. What he came to see now was different. His black eyes revealed to him a room full of warriors who he assumed were accepted combatants like himself. Letting out a soft sigh he stepped out. This was it. He was in.

[King Cold444]

"Yeah, we could do that." Cold mused aloud, stroking his chin for a brief moment.

Cold wasn't distrustful of his son, just wary. He hadn't expected much less from Koola regardless, and he was grateful if he couldn't continue there was someone to carry his burdens. Hopefully.

King Cold shared his sons confidence, idly gazing over the assembling combatants. In just a few moments time they'd be flung into the fray, pit one against another to emerge victorious over the masses. It was a story of survival. Cold itched to check his bag, he honestly did, but he refused to scavage through his belongings like a vulture. They were his own and he'd have more than enough time to get acquainted with his weapon.

"You don't seem impressed... or even worried about the competition before you, but then again, you always put up a front." Cold said, drawing his sons astonishment. Sighing, he hastily added. "I had to read between the lines to figure that out, so don't ask."

"Well, uhmm..." Koola seemed taken aback by the sudden breach of perception. "I'm just a little more confident, I told you I've been training."

Cold nodded.

"Like father, like son... I'll see you on the field, I'm just gonna get my pack ready." Cold nudged a thumb towards his bed.

[Kirano]

Even if were just for a few seconds it was good to see Buri again. It brought a smile onto her face, brightened her day for a brief moment. The girl had grown, though Bulma certain the girl was not ready for Da, even if she did have a power ring.

Bulma did not even get the chance to buy Shinobi and Buri a drink. She was already being whisked away by a Syntech official.

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?I just arrived. I need a drink. I?ve had a heck of a day. You wouldn?t believe it.?

?Well...the most I can do is bring you a bottle. You can?t sit down and drink, you?ve been called to the barracks.? She settled with the idea of a bottle being brought to her.

?Only the finest. A bottle of Dom Perignon Rose and a glass to go.?

?Dom Perignon. That?s our most expensive bottle of wine. Nobody has ever ordered a bottle of any kind before.?

?I have expensive habits and rich tastes,? she said, handing the women her bankcard, not just any bankcard.

?A black card! Wait, I?ve heard about you. You?re that rich millionaire, Bulma Brief?s.? the official sussed out, her mood suddenly overjoyed. The black card, finest wine, it all added up.

?Correct. I take it you?ve never held one. Take you time,? she said sarcastically. She wanted her drink immediately. The next best thing to not getting the chance to kill the man, who turned her mother away from her ? was drinking.

The woman returned with a chilled bottle of the rich scientists desired request, as well as a clean, fine wine glass. She handed the card back to her, before doing so, gazed at it for around six seconds. It was unbelievable. What the official would do to get a black card of her own. She would have to work her whole life off. Working for DA just did not cut it.

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They talked on their way. ?How do you do it Bulma? How do you become successful?? asked the young member of staff.

?Focus on your dreams and let hard work take you there. Sometimes it involves making sacrifices. It?s the only way. I?ve come along way. Though everything seems fine, it isn?t.?

?Why, what?s the problem?? Ding. The elevator door opened. The two females stepped out.

?Personal issues.? What would become of her mother now? What of her father? How would he bare with the fact his wife, was not the same woman he has been happily married for seventeen solid years? What would become of her family? They were already torn apart. She had divorced Vegeta. Would her parents follow that same path?

?I hope everything works out for you.?

?It?s too late for that.? Her mother was lost forever. Gone, just like that. All because of one Commander, who stopped at nothing to defeat his nemesis, however, one he still could not conquer. Bulma overcame his obstacle, almost taking her own life in the process, just to stop the woman who brought her into the world.

?Here you are, the barracks.? The room was no different to last years, beds labelled from number 1 ? 44. ?Your bed number is 36. Good luck.?

?Thank you.?

She gave Bulma one last smile, which was returned, before leaving. The woman dressed in Kai clothes gazed at her bottle in her left hand, and then to her glass in her right. There was only one thing left she needed to accomplish, and to do that, she made her way over to her bed, avoiding facial contact with all her were in the room, regardless of the fact some had their eyes on her, for various reasons maybe. She did not notice the Konat Minoshia was amongst the rest of warriors, who occupied the room.

She undressed the wrapper, which covered the cork. Concentrating her energy on the expensive bottle of champagne, the cork popped off. Her eyes did not bother to search where it landed. ?Here?s to me,? she toasted herself, pouring its rich, crimson contents into her glass. She took a sip, and then another, and then put the glass to her lips again, drinking from her glass.

[Retane]

"Here's to me."

THe mercenary turned his head to the voice that his keen ears picked up, recognizing it as if he had heard it just yesterday. There sitting upon here bed was the cyan-colored hair, that belonged to none other then Bulma. His eyes stared at her and no emotions ran through his mind. Nothing but a blank stare. His memory flashed back just one year ago when he had promised to ally with Nappa and herself, planning to kill them both. It was Murasaki, one who had become one of his future comrads that had killed her, only todie at the hands of Olibu. The mercenary sighed at the thought. Looking around wondering if he might see the ninja around this year, but caught no glimpse of him.

The assassin felt calm at that point, knowing he needed to control himself and his rage. If he met Bulma on the feild he would decide then, wether to kill or not to. He had outlasted her last time and hoped he could do so again.

Another glance around the room and he met the eyes of a distant yet seemingly familiar face. Of that resembled the warrior named Pikkon, one who of which Retane had faught before then sided with in the warrior on Vegeta. The very same man had risked his life as they attempted to collide into the ship of their target. Pikkon had died. Retane survived.

Only the look in the warriors eyes told them that this was not the same. Perhaps it was Pikkon reincarnated with a new life, not remembering even who Retane was, as Enroshia had tried to explain to him before.

The mercenary stood up, not knowing why and headed over to the jade skinned alien. He passed though, Minoshia, and traded glances with his former comrade, and again he wondered what would happen if they met in this game and out in the real life. The mercenary felt like turning to find out where his ally stood, but his feet swpet him away, straight to his old companion.


The two met eyes for a moment and Pikkon stood up, a curious look in his eye.

"Ally?" Retane asked, his voice dark and meaningless.

[Burter]

As the room began to get more and more crowded, Burter became more and more uncomfortable. He had laid back on his cot, using his cloak and blanket to cover his body and attract the least attention. He had seen some extremely familar faces, and the least thing he wanted was to make them notice him. That'd be, well, uncomfortable.

"G'day, matey," a raspy voice spoke off to the side. Burter peeked from under the hood with one of his red eyes to see a tanned man with an odd-shaped hat above his head. It was clearly a human, but by far the oddest looking human he had ever seen. "You look a little bummed out, mate."

Burt rose up to sit on the side of the bed, revealing most of his form. Thanks to the cloak, only this human could really make out his body. "Can I help you?" He hissed, annoyed by the interuption.

The human backed up a bit. "By Davy Jones' locker, mate, I have seen some weird stuff on the waters," he declared, "But you are by far...the weirdest."

He was of course referring to Burter's scaly blue skin, glowing red eyes and fanged teeth. Burter didn't change his facial expression, just looking up with the same annoyed expression as before. "Thanks," he said simply, "Do you mind leaving me alone?"

"Oh, come on now boyo, no need to be mad at lil' ole' Jack," the human stuck his hand out, "I hear in this game, it pays to have some friends. Let's be friends. Savvy?"

The reptilian stood up, showing his height off the human named Jack. The tanned figure dropped his hand and looked up as he realized how much Burter towered over him. He swallowed hard and backed up again, almost to the 12th bed, which belonged to a changling. "I don't need your friendship to win this game."

"Fair enough, my dear lizard," the pirate said. "I only hope you'll reconsider."

"No thanks," Burter repeated. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, and then headed away from his bed. He used his of his clawed hands to keep his cloak shut and avoid being noticed by some of the familar faces.

The human shouted behind him. "Know this, boyo! You'll regret the day you said 'no' to Captain Jack Sparrow!"

[Deo]

The elevator shuddered with all the anticipation the participants were most likely feeling deep down in their bones, at least, the ones that had a valid reason to be here. There was always the few fighters that thought they had the entire contest under their hat and were only here to stroke their own egos, get that extra bit of fame and act cool under the pressure of battle, down talking and sizing everyone else in comparison. Shallow people only achieve shallow victory, but hey. They were shallow, what did they care? His breath heaved out as the elevator ascended...or descended, he wasn't sure, and it didn't really matter in the end. Up or down, it was probably going to be an arm pit, probably cramped, full and uncomfortable. Maybe they planned to irritate all the fighters before the match and get some killed off before the games even began. Get rid of the boring cannon fodder that way, keep only the people that can stand toe to toe with the super powers around.

Was he even on that level? Was he the ant or the boot in this whole set up? In comparison, he knew some of these fighters were almost twenty times his better as far as raw power went, even if he had mastered the true powers his tail gave him. The feeling of accomplishment was soon washed away by a feeling of annoyance. While he had risen a few steps, other's had risen a flight. While he had ascended a peak, other's had passed over the mountain top. It was disheartening, and most would either ignore it and be satisfied with their accomplishment, or give up. But that wasn't the way he was built, physically, mentally or emotionally. Those more powerful then him weren't road blocks, or something that made him feel less about himself. They were targets, stepping stones for him to surpass, walls for him to break through, and he would. There would be blood, fists soaked in it, feet swimming in it. Blood was the wine of war, and he planned to get shit faced.

As the almost unnoticeable momentum of the elevator ceased, the Saiyan realized the elevator attendant had been talking to him the entire time he had been standing there lost in thought. There was a sigh from the attendant as he realized this, and began to re-state the explanation. "We're heading to the Barracks, where you can rest, check your equipment that's been given, and..." The man placed his hand to his face, covering his mouth from sight as he let out a snicker. "Make a strategy." There was a momentary chortle, which received no response from the Saiyan. It soon died out and the man cleared his throat, placing his hand to the switch at the wall.

Metal scrapped metal, like rusty gates opening, and the Saiyan stepped off the lift, snatching the gift basket from his 'tour guide'. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his vision was dead center as if strapped with blinders on either side of his head. He ignored the sounds of the various low level muscle heads as they jostled each other, head butting for some position of superiority without actual combat involved. Ego versus Ego. His fingers twisted around the strap of the bag he had been given, maneuvering to a bed of his own. Six. He hadn't placed and specific strategy to his position of sleep, if he even planned to spend that much time there.

A small airborne camera floated near him, twisting around the air like a gnat. A baseball sized, mechanical, whirring, clicking, blinking gnat. The noises it produced echoed louder as the lens twisted to focus on the less then giddy male. The continuous blinking of that red recording light casting a slight glow upon his features. His upper canine clicked against he lower as his jaw twitched a few times, annoyance clear in his features. His arm was a blur of motion as he snatched up the camera, fingers digging into the metallic hull. The once consistent whir and click now sounding similar to a squealing VHS tape being stripped.

He clicked his tongue, a female's hollar echoing over his shoulder, and the angered barks and roars of a few no name aliens followed. Some sort of protest against her claim of certain victory, a few words like 'bitch', 'whore' and 'monkey skank' were heard. Kol snorted, tossing the camera over his shoulder absentmindedly, his attention drifting towards his survival pack. A loud clunk did catch his attention however, and he turned to the sound of cursing from that same female's barking of rage at being struck by something so stupid.

Kol placed the survival pack in his lap, and cheeked his tongue as he grinned for the first time in a while. "...so that's your weakness?...broken cameras?" He quipped, his tail giving an energized twitch. "You'd better hope they're recording with satellites then, shouldn't you, powder puff?" His question didn't expect an answer, and he just slid back in his cot, arms raised behind his head, his tongue poked out between his lips at the woman.

[Raditzu]

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A voice boomed through the barracks. Many of the contestants had already gathered. "Boys and girls!" Some of the voices hushed, but many continued their business, be it talking to other conetestants or mentally preparing themselves for the trial they were about to face. "Children of all ages! Dante's Abyss is proud to present..." many hushed at this point, assuming some tournament official would be speaking. "None other than the long-haired wonder himself..." the quiet was immediatly distrupted by a chorus of groans. "Rrrrrrrrrraditzu!"

Bursting from the door to the barracks came the long-haired saiyan, bearing a smirk that only he could manage. A few of the other combatants were interested to get a first-hand glimpse of last year's champion, and a few more were content to throw empty food containers or shoes at him; the latter were incinerated by a flourish of precise ki blasts. Though the bow that followed was not accompanied by an eruption of cheers and appluase. Rad was suddenly very sad that the pre-show had been concluded.

"Now this is a lil' wierd..." Rad commented to no one in particular. "S'first time I haven't had a mob following me around." A rumble in his stomach pre-empted his next thought. "Ugh... I'm going to have to go get my own food!"

With a shake of his head, Raditzu preceded down the aisle of bunks. The commotion in the barracks, combined with the electric tension in the air brought a wave of nostalgia sweeping over the saiyan warrior. It had been at least a decade since he had last participated in a real military operation, but at that exact moment there was no difference between the then and the now. Needless to say, it was something of a buzzkill.

The metal floor of the barracks slowly melted into the soft soil of a rain-drenched plateau. The murmur of contestants faded to the soft patter of rain puncuated by the all-encompassing boom of thunder and the jarring crack of thunder. At the other end of the plateau, where Rad's bunk sat in the barracks, stood a younger version of the long-haired warrior. The younger Raditzu's hair flowed freely in the wind, free from a burden it would not come to understand until many years later. Young Raditzu was not alone. Kneeling down, her throat caught in the vice-like grip of the long-haired soldier, was another saiyan. Her tail, heavy with rain water, hung limply from her waist: a clear sign. Though her body was still able, she had been broken. She would not be a threat... to anyone... ever again.

With a grunt of force, the young Rad hefted the woman into the air and after a sickening crack, let her fall back to the ground. With a sneer of disdain, Rad spit upon the corpse before turning and dashing off. The older Raditzu knew where he was going, and knew what would happen. This was a scene he had replayed in his mind many, many times. It was ironic that he should be reliving it now, of all times. The similarities to the situation now and then were uncanny, though Raditzu had never seen it until that very moment. With a long sigh, he finished approaching the scene and flopped onto the corpse of the woman.

Like turning on a light in the middle of the night, Raditzu felt blinded as he snapped back to the present. There was no storm, the scent of blood no longer filled the air, and he wasn't sitting on the corpse of a freshly dead woman. As the shock of his mental transition wore off, Raditzu more closely took in his surroundings and started to mentally steel himself for the main tournament.

With a casual swipe of his hand, Rad grabbed up his bag of provisions and poked around it. He cocked an eyebrow at the weapon contained within and let a smirk display across his features for the briefest of moments. He sinched the bag back up and tossed it to the side, having removed only one item. With a careful, practiced motion, Raditzu flicked his hair back and fastened a scouter to his left ear. As he did so, a small grin appeared. Having already turned in the items he had been carrying, the life-long soldier had been filling quite naked without the familiar green tint of a scouter coloring half his vision.

"So..." the saiyan wondered aloud, "when can I start killing things?"