Broly? Gold?

Pockets Lined with Gold

Medium Quest

Requirement: None

Reward: 2,000 zeni and 10 Villain Points

You are hired by a some professional thieves to serve as their brute force. Apparently a train filled with gold ingots is headed through the snowy mountains to North City. The train is protected by some elite special forces and newly designed combat androids. Destroy them so that the thieves can board the train and take the gold. You'll get a nice cut.


They thought he was incapable of coming off as cultured; they thought he was incapable of being cultured in general. While the lattermost was most definitely true, the first was only true by choice. Broly did not often have the time for petty things like ‘suits’ and ‘ties’, or such things as business attire. On top of that, why would he ever choose to wear one? Wearing a suit implied that you weren’t going to be getting it dirty, something that he could most definitely not promise anyone. He ended up dirty, bloody, smelling of smoke and bone by the end of a light day’s worth of activity; how was he to keep a business suit clean in his regular day’s worth of happenings?

However, he had certainly managed to squeeze into one for this occasion. The Legendary Warrior was presently situated in the backseat of a lead train car, his eyes fixated on the robotic train guards that seemed ever present for the duration of this ride. They stood stock still, two at every door; four eyes seemed to glare down at him from every angle. It was starting to piss him off, because they had assessed him as a rather large thread; which, rightfully, he was. Broly was a very risky inhabitant to any train ride, but the principal stood. They needed to stop fucking looking at him before he illustrated to them proper manners.

The thought itself was laughable; Broly? Teaching manners? How in the world could that come to pass? Provided those things continued looking at him, they would very quickly discover this. To Broly, it wouldn’t even be a pleasurable experience; ripping synthetic flesh apart was very boring and dull, to him. There wasn’t the snap or pop of bones, the rip of flesh was noticeably absent; altogether it was an unsatisfying kill. A takedown by a predator who was used to much more interesting and exciting battles, with creatures who were capable of thinking creatively.

Not that the other inhabitants of the train were very interesting or powerful. The West City Bullet to Northeaston was a business trip, for the most part. Men in suits littered the train, women hanging off of a majority of them. It was clear that the people here lacked morality, which wasn’t something that bothered Broly very much. He thought about as much of morality as he did humanity; a condition, a limitation, an almost scourge like effect upon the mind and body, even the universe. He had never followed his morals. Not that he’d had any to follow in the first place, but even had he obtained a set he wouldn’t have followed them.

It was so bothersome; lingering here in a seat as opposed to blowing the ever loving hell out of all of them. He wasn’t quite sure why he was listening to the man who had brought him on board for this...This heist, per se; he wasn’t quite sure why he had believed a challenge would present itself to him here, of all places. However, he could still hear the man’s words ringing in his ears, buzzing about in his brain. Apparently, the Androids were based upon his own strength, test models from a rival of Capsule Corporation. That itself was interesting; he could remember the test trials from back then.

He had been far weaker back then, perhaps a tenth of the strength he was now. If those Androids were going to pose any threat to him whatsoever, it would be more of a nail-breaking threat than a blood and bone level threat. Regardless, he still needed to get out and stretch his legs some. As of late, he had felt bored, complacent and light. He needed to get back into the thick of things, the brutal every day type of living that he was used to. This train robbery (which would likely end in the train’s destruction) would be a nice warm up for his upcoming spree of fucking things up.

Broly’s eyes slowly turned to the window, where green countryside rolled by with little care. If the world had been sentient, it would have spit him out upon arrival. For he was a lot like the pit of a cherry; hard, of poor taste, and difficult to enjoy. Of course, he didn’t care for the Earth’s opinion on him. It would not matter much longer. He would eventually find the power required to blow the planet to smithereens, taking everything out with it. That would be a glorious day; he could already see it in his head. He could feel the heat, the release of energy.

Oh, it was glorious alright. The heat and energy releasing to form a lightshow rivaling the most otherworldly of fireworks displays, the most intense show imaginable. How many Earthlings could claim they had seen the eruption of a planet? The number, in Broly’s opinion, was likely low to nonexistent. The race seemed too soft, too young to have seen such things; shit, they would likely consider it a tragedy. Broly however, knew much better. The death of a planet was a natural event, which could not be stopped by such petty things as spirit and racial intensity. Otherwise the Saiyans would still be on their original home planet, coincidentally blown up by an ancestor of his.

Chatter rose out over the sound of the train rolling its way along the tracks, the sound of comfortable conversation and mild mannered pleasance. It was disgusting, how humanity was so soft. It made the warrior’s brow furrow, resisting the urge to jump the gun and destroy everything in the car out of pure instinct. Stretching his suited body out along the seat, Broly quietly wondered exactly how much longer he would have to wait in order to do away with this insipid train car. Hopefully, the entire operation would begin soon.

As luck would have it, he didn’t have to wait very much longer for the signal to begin. As the Saiyan’s glowering face stared off into the horizon, a wispy trail of red smoke began rising from the treeline. It rose to prominence as his eyes lingered on the smoke for the briefest of seconds before he stood up. Though he cared too little to pay attention, the train cars behind him were now breaking out into chaos. All throughout the train, armed men were now beginning to resist against the Androids and Special Operatives who were supposed to protect the secrets and riches held at the front, the area that was Broly’s designated zone.

Though the men in the back would undoubtedly struggle, Broly was not so weak as to require aid. He was the only informed member of the train car, and he was soon about to be the only living one. Lifting his left hand into the air as the two frontmost Android guards turned to face him, Broly grinned darkly. This was about to be interesting. Civilians glanced in his direction as emerald light suddenly flooded the car, surrounding the Saiyan in a stormy swirl of power and wind, signifying the beginning of a rather dangerous moment.
Broly’s fist burst forward as the Androids assessed the level of threat the warrior possessed, undoubtedly a threat level surpassing even the most unexpected assaults. The energy he had penned up inside exploded outward in a fountain like blast in order to consume the unexpecting synthetic, forcing the thing’s body backward through the train wall with an explosion of smoke and fire, igniting nearby seats and forcing civilians into a panic. Though the guard’s partner was the first to react, the guards who stood at the rear of the compartment were far closer in proximity to the Saiyan.

Their bodies sprung forward through seating as Broly released a secondary bolt toward the guard standing furthest from him, whose hands rose to release a bolt of their own. Unfortunately for it, it lacked the proper energy to contend with a being such as the Legendary Warrior and was quickly blasted out of the train and left to die on the tracks, underneath the weight of such a monstrous locomotive. The train itself was several hundred compartments in length, one of the largest commercial transport trains still active; it had been relying on it’s security forces to protect it.

In the synthetic’s place stood little but a trail of smoke, the smoke that had burst out into a cloud around the explosion and then had been subsequently torn away by the speed of the train. The civilians were now fighting to get past the guards, who were in turn cutting through them without much difficulty in order to reach Broly. The more intelligent of the compartment had ducked down beneath their seats, trying to avoid the wrath that was the Legendary Super Saiyan. As the first guard cracked through the line of citizens, Broly raised a hand into the air, the one he had not fired from earlier.

This hand proved to be equally, if not more, dangerous. A hidden cache of energy had been pent up in between the warrior’s fingertips, encompassing Broly’s palm in a ball of green light. The ball seemed to linger in his hands for the briefest second, before releasing a barrage of needle-like bolts of energy from it’s center. The needles tore through the air, forcing a cacophony of screeches and screams from the civilians, who were hit by the low accuracy blasts. Though a few of them managed to find their mark with the lead guard, Broly was not concerned with the lives of those in his compartment.

Though damaged, the guard continued onward toward Broly, his burly arms crossing as he ran forward at top speed across the compartment. It was here that Broly noticed the similarities between them; all of the guards had his body type, and a portion of his energy instilled inside of them. It was clear that the company had been attempting to capitalize on the Warrior’s strengths, albeit unsuccessfully. Each Robo-Guard had short, cropped black hair (which had it grown out to length, probably mimicked that of the Legend’s), which framed their bitter looking faces.

However, just because they looked like Broly, did not mean he felt any type of kinship toward them. Had that been the case, they’d have probably died even more brutal deaths, the result of his distaste for anything reminiscent of his past.
”Come at me then, fools! Charge to your deaths, show me the energy you were made with!”, Broly’s words rose over the bumping and jostling noises of the train’s compartment, above the chugging of the engines as the lead robot entered his range. Face twisting into a smirk, the warrior’s fist plunged forward at high speeds, his body tearing through the seat as he struck hard at his enemy’s guard. The Robot, perhaps predictably, blocked the strike with both arms, crossing them in a misguided attempt to stop the Saiyan’s fist from piercing his body. Unfortunately for him, Broly was far too powerful for such a weak block attempt to succeed.

His fist pierced the metal and fake skin with little effort, his entire body’s weight put into the attack in order for him to soar through the fake creature with little effort. It’s body split in two as he continued onward, body spinning in order to slam into the second Robo Guard, who had just now broken free of the crowd. His left hand clenched, Broly slammed a spinning back fist into the Robot’s skull, successfully dislodging it and sending shards of glass everywhere as it shattered a window and was lost to the countryside rolling by. For a moment, both bodies lingered, one standing in two pieces while the other stood with one fist raised, prepared to strike against the Saiyan who had been indirectly responsible for their very birth.

Broly turned as both exploded in a useless, but otherwise entertaining display of sparks and fire. He was unaffected by the discharge of energy, which rocked the train car even further; nor was he affected by the shrapnel that tore nearby seating to shreds. Broly’s eyes lingered little as he lifted his right palm to the other end of the train car, clearly intent on something nefarious. Without much visible interest, he permitted the growth of a rather large and seemingly hungry orb of emerald energy, which soon came to consume his palm. Small amounts of energy crackled around his fingertips, racing around the perimeter of the orb as he aimed straight toward the door.

In front of said door, there lay about two dozen bodies, each of them covered in burns and scorch marks from where Broly’s blasts had pierced their bodies earlier. It, shockingly, brought him no pleasure to know that he had done away with such a bunch so easily; they had been uninteresting, easy targets. Eying the window of the back door with about as much curiosity as a boy would a stick in the mud, the Saiyan’s blast rose to the height of it’s growth. He already knew the strength behind this attack would be able to tear through the train with little actual effort; he also knew that it would probably decimate his allies in the surrounding cars.

Broly released his blast toward the door, watching intently as it ripped its way through wood and steel, tearing through everything in an all-consuming flash of emerald energy. Had the people in surrounding cars been aware of his intent, they probably would have screamed or perhaps yelled; unfortunately, the speed of the traveling train added to the speed of Broly’s already rather quick blast did not leave them much time to notice anything. Their last memory would be the chaos leading up to their demise, the moment just before a flash of light consumed everything in sight, giving them unsatisfying and ultimately pointless deaths.

Turning now, the Saiyan strode forward toward the next compartment. Because he had blasted out the frontmost wall, he would likely have to float over and break his way into the lead car, but he didn’t much care. He didn’t really seem to care much for anything that had transpired that day, likely because of how bland and generally dream-like it was. He had not had a day like this in a while; so wholly uninteresting that he bothered not for it. Normally, he, for lack of a better term, delighted in the destruction of such useless clutter. He normally found it satisfying to cleanse such filth from the face of the planet, a planet he would soon cleanse from the universe itself.

Today must have been an off day, to say the least; ‘off’ signifying the difference in his attitude. He hadn’t so much as batted an eyebrow to the commanding robber’s orders, something he would have usually punished greatly for. Broly did not take kindly to such rubbish; why would the officer have the right to command him around? What possible reasoning or logic insinuated that he would have the ability to enforce such petty policies as ‘spare the civilians’, or ‘let’s avoid friendly fire’? Broly had just broken both of those in the blink of an eye.

As his fists tore through the metal of the lead train car, green woodland rolling by on both sides, the Saiyan pondered-- yes, pondered, his reasoning for taking part in this heist in the first place. It was behavior much unlike him; perhaps even unbecoming. A heist implied that it was not an outright slaughter, something he was rather famous for already. It wasn’t often that Broly left survivors in his wake; this would not be one of those unusual occurrences, in which he decided against brutally destroying the ants alongside their hill.

Forcibly bending the metal asunder, Broly stepped into the lead car. At it’s head, a conductor was curled up into a corner, near a rather complex looking control panel and a fairly large chest. Smirking, perhaps fiendishly, the Saiyan strode forward with confidence. Though he was not currently wearing his tribal attire, and this entire thing had been a fit of fancy, he imagined that Ryouji could use the funds gathered from this train. Perhaps there was some kind of useful technology inside, perhaps this thing held something both of them could use. Though that chance was unlikely, Broly still took it in with a sense of vigor and vitality.

Approaching the bundled up old man, the Saiyan quickly gripped him by the neck, bringing him up into the air. Though most would have called his expression malice or malcontent, any man experienced with the Saiyan would have undoubtedly noticed it as disgust. It was a mask he wore frequently, one he felt fit his dealings with Humanity well; he didn’t often smile in general, and it was even less frequently that he did so upon the human race. Smiling with glee, of course, was strictly off limits; smiling with anticipation at a battle forthcoming? That was a different matter entirely, and perhaps the sole exception to his case.

“P-Please sir, Please have m-mer-mercy! I have chi-children, I have a wife, I have gr-grand kids for god’s sake!”

Broly looked upon the man with morbid curiosity; did he think that made a difference? Did he think Broly had forgotten those factors when slaying the other men on board, that he would make a sudden change to his policy?
Laughing, Broly retorted with his typical character. ”Don’t worry, old man! I’ll kill them next.”

With that, he snapped the old man’s neck with the flick of a wrist, biting back more laughter at the simultaneous cracking noises that resulted. Though he no longer would be able to discern the chest key’s location, it wasn’t as though he needed it. It would be easy to both carry the chest home, and shatter it to reveal it’s contents. After all; what was wood to a Saiyan?

TWC: 3,091