A Night on the Town

by Turles 9/3/2012, 9:42 pm

A Night on the Town

The room was crowded; too crowded for his taste, but he hadn't exactly gotten to know any other establishment so intimately. He'd been frequenting Borgia's for the entirety of his Saiyan Army experience. The other bars were too unsavory or too dirty. This place was reasonably clean, and the prices were dirt cheap. The beer could have been better, but what could he have honestly expected? His expectations may have been placed a bit higher than they should have been. He was used to the best wine in the galaxy, procured via less than legal methods.

Then again, was something really illegal if there were no galactic laws? The morality of piracy was very subject to opinion. Morality itself was subject to opinion; Turles felt he was doing pretty well for himself as an entrepreneur. Other people thought he was some scum, who deserved to be wiped off the face of the intergalactic map. Coincidentally, many had tried to do just that. Conveniently, many of them had failed in their attempt. Still, the alcohol in this place tasted like piss. It paled in comparison to his beloved elixir, Xeon 49. The place only had one bottle, and they were keeping it locked up tight.

But, he didn't care about the method to his madness. He was here to relax, unwind; he had only just managed to put some boots on the ground earlier in the evening. Admittedly, it felt pretty good. He'd been on foreign soil too long, and as much as he despised the people of his home world, he could not deny it's elegance. It was far too good for it's inhabitants; that much was clear to him. Desert after desert dotted the landscape, oases were few and far between. The only major one he could think of was beneath his feet. Vegeta City, Planet Vegeta.

Sure, there were Tuffle ruins that seemed to turn up here and there, but no one ever found any life in them. Any remaining Tuffles were smart enough to stay in hiding, as opposed to risk facing the might of the Saiyan War Machine. His people were good for one thing, and one thing only; making war against, well, anything. If there was an enemy in the galaxy, the Saiyans would fight it. If it was possible to fight it, they would overcome it. In honesty, his people bred well beneath the boot of adversity. They had been subservient to the Cold Empire for years now, and they'd only flourished.

Cold had offered them the chance to do what they did best as a career opportunity. As it so happened, they were naturally more powerful than most other creatures. As a result however, discrimination was widespread. On the surface of Planet Vegeta, many other species were frequently discriminated against. As it so happened, he could see it happening across the bar. Over at the counter itself, opposite his booth seat, he could see a group of rather rowdy Saiyans pushing around a weaker, fish-like alien. Was it possible that they thought themselves better than he?

Probably. They weren't wearing any scouters. They probably couldn't sense the thing's power level, nor could they fathom his reason for failing to retaliate. As a general rule, Saiyans did not bode well to sit and take punishment. For that reason, they couldn't understand why anybody else could or would. Taking a sip of his cheap beer, the Saiyan at the booth watched as they began pushing and jostling the fish faced alien, almost forcing him off of his stool. From his place, Turles himself couldn't help but wonder why the man did not fight back.

He was clearly more powerful than his tormentors; he could feel that aura from his seat. The Saiyans around him were all low class fighters, probably not even ranked in the militia. They were easily in mid-life cycle, but not much older than Turles himself. Placing his beer on the table, he leaned back and crossed his arms. For this excursion into the Saiyan world, he had donned his old scarf and cape which now decorated his battle armor. He could, vaguely, sense an energy signature in the room spiking. Usually, this place was pretty quiet.

Usually was the key word in that statement. Saiyans didn't take kindly to intruders on their home world. How far would they go to eject this man from the bar? He could hear snippets of their words, calling him a myriad of names and things. Begrudgingly, he was forced to admit that he'd have snapped already. Though he was one of the more even tempered Saiyans, even he could not stand the type of insults they were throwing forward to him. He'd have broken all of their weak little limbs, and then liberated their teeth from their mouths, if it were him.

”C'mon... Don't take that.”, he murmured beneath his breath. He was interested in some entertainment, now. He wanted to see some Dinner Theater, and if it came to it, get involved himself. After his training battle with Cobb, he'd been eager to test out the power he'd experienced before. He hadn't ever been able to unlock a strength like that in combat, nor had he been able to harness his adrenaline in such a moment of clarity. He wanted to test it out on someone who was already a lower combat strength than he himself. These men fit the bill, and if a brawl broke out, he'd have an excuse. As it so happened, the Saiyan Police Force was very tolerant of general violence.

That was probably because every time a Saiyan got his ass beat, he only became stronger. Some called it evolution, some said that it was just the old addage. However, 'studies' had proven the Zenkai Effect to be truth. Turles himself had felt it; ever since Cobb had beaten the hell out of him in that training chamber, he had grown in strength. It was strange. Only by entertaining a near death experience, could he truly gain power. Training was less effective than being beaten half to death. It was almost funny. The worse at his job he was, the stronger he became.

His fist clenched as he watched the alien be pushed from his seat, finally having been removed by the Saiyans who were so against him. He was getting bothered by the alien's lack of resilience. Was he not going to stand up for himself? It was strange, the peace of mind this strange, fishy bastard seemed to possess. Appearing dejected, the fishy alien merely meandered out of the bar, his face crestfallen. As the man stepped out of the door, the Saiyans turned their gaze to him. If they intended to bother him, they were going to earn themselves a visit to the infirmary.

“You gotta problem?”, their apparent leader was glowering menacingly in Turles' direction. Clearly, they had no idea who they were preparing to mess with. His eyes narrowed as the Saiyans approached, swaggering over to the table as if they owned the place. Whoever had told them that was very misinformed; if they had come to the conclusion themselves then they were even worse. This bar had been his favorite since he'd arrived on Vegeta. If they thought it was theirs, he was going to have to teach them a rather memorable lesson.

”What do you think, big man?”, his own voice was snide and snotty. It was easily apparent that he had an attitude problem. Or, so he hoped it would seem. He was aching to teach these new arrivals, for he had certainly never seen them before, how to act in his favorite establishment. His arms slowly uncrossed, before planting themselves against the wooden table in front of him. He needed to be ready to move, if he had to. While the men before him were certainly weaker than he was, he had no idea how destructive they were.

“I think you've gotta problem, and I think I know how to fixit for ya!”, his tones were deep and gravelly, as if he'd just choked down a hard to swallow meal. The man's right fist cocked in the air, fingertips curling to produce a swirling vortex of azure. Though the energy was fairly bright, Turles did not take his eyes away from the man's face. This was between the two of them, and nobody else. If the men behind him got involved, Turles would have to destroy them as well. It wasn't his fault that the inhabitants of this planet only grew less and less intelligent as time passed.

As the light swirled and danced in the man's palm, Turles' leisurely stood. He was not intimidated, nor would he ever be, by such unfortunate souls. He had spent his entire life defeating people for a living. He had killed more men than he could ever hope to count, and this man, if he persisted, would merely add himself to the count. As this thought raced through his calmed mind, the former pirate strode directly up to his soon to be opponent, who towered above him with ease. This height deficit did not bother him. He had seen bigger, beaten stronger.

”Oh? How about it then, big guy?”, his words were provocation to this man at the highest level. He had gotten up in his face and failed to show any fear; while this was similar to the treatment the alien had given him, this was much more defiant, direct. Judging by the way his face contorted, he clearly felt himself entitled to some form of special treatment. What was it with Saiyans and their need to be special? Turles didn't care if he was the most powerful, or even if he was the weakest. All he wanted was to succeed and thrive, by any means necessary.

“Do you know who I am?!”, oh, yeah. Now he was pretty mad. Judging from the rise in his volume, Turles was starting to get under his skin. How much longer would he be able to take before he snapped like a twig?

”I think the better question is, do I care?”, was he meaning to come across as so defiant? He couldn't tell what he'd been thinking heading in to this encounter. His intentions hadn't been very noble, but now he was looking like some kind of soft avenger. Rarely, if ever, did a Saiyan stand up for a lesser species. Certainly, on the outside, this looked like he was defending the fish faced alien. Perhaps that was why so many eyes were being drawn to him now; he was the center of the bar's attention. Even the owner was staring at him, surprised that he had stood up so quickly.

He couldn't tell if they thought him soft or resolute, but it didn't matter very much. The men who now opposed him were going to die if they decided to strike out against him. That was simply fact. He could see this conflict going no other way; if the man before him decided to attack directly, he'd be overwhelmed in the blink of an eye. If any of his little cronies decided to help, they too, were far weaker than Turles. Narrowing his eyes as if he were locking in on a target, he listened as the man spoke once more, clearly under the impression that he could change Turles' mind.

“I'm the son of Royal Guard Captain Dira, haven't you ever heard of him?”, no, as a matter of fact, Turles hadn't.

When Turles didn't back down, the man frowned. He was clearly becoming disenchanted with the bed headed warrior. If Turles had to guess, this man had never had anyone stand up to him before, outside of the battlefield. He had probably been sent to some low tier planet, in order to destroy the native populace. If he could place money on it, he'd have bet that the average power level had been a few hundred, if that. Snarling in his new foe's direction, he replied to his opponent's bragging with a healthy dose of disgust and distaste.

”The answer to my question, which your meaty head seems to have blocked from your ears, is 'No, I don't care'. Now get out of my sight before I kick you out of the bar myself.”, with his words he jerked his thumb backwards, gesturing toward the door, which the alien had exited from mere seconds ago. Things had certainly escalated pretty quickly, but he didn't care. He could feel the heat rising from the creaky floor boards beneath his feet, swelling up like a monsoon inside of him as his energy built. Slowly, almost as if afraid, thin black strands began to weave their way up his legs.

Here came that fiery power, preparing to overwhelm the poor bastard before him. He had only experienced it against a man who was more powerful than himself, and it had certainly helped to turn the tables before. How much would it help him now, when he was already in the lead? Would it simply enhance his already huge power? As he considered the possibilities, the man who stood before him spiked in power. Though his energy did not peak above Turles' own, it was still an impressive jump. Expression unchanging, Turles egged the man on even further. ”I'm waiting.”

The man's energy laden fist shot upwards, seeking to embed itself in the former pirate's face. Almost immediately, he reacted. Turles' body rolled backwards on the balls of his feet, evading the simple strike with little actual effort. As he did so, the other two men flanked their leader, jumping out at him, fists at the ready. So they did want to dance? That was perfectly fine. Both warriors emerged around the man who had initiated their show down, flying directly to Turles' sides. It was a sound enough strategy, in and of itself. It was unfortunate that he had seen it coming.

Still snarling, Turles' jumped to his left, burying his shoulder in a warrior's chest plate and knocking a table into the air. As the stunned fighter struggled to dislodge the pirate, who was still pressing firmly toward the wall by releasing two bright jets of ki from both feet, strange gurgling noises could be heard. His free hand raised toward the man who had jumped at him from the luckier side, a mass of blackened energy swirling into his finger tips. This amalgamation of power was far more threatening than the first man's. It was also far more fatal.

The mass of energy quickly encompassed his hand, stretching from wrist to finger tip as he slammed the first Saiyan into the wall. So far, this battle was proving relatively simple. The second Saiyan approached from the side, swerving to avoid Turles' charged ball of ki. However, this was no mere ball of energy. Swiping his hand across the air in front of the Saiyan, he watched as it was bisected by a sharp section of energy, which quickly buried itself into the man's armor. His body was quickly launched across the bar, accompanying the slice-like jet of ki.

Had he decided to fully charge it, it would have easily cut through the man's armor and into his chest, before cutting him open like some kind of skinned animal. When his body slammed against the collection of alcohol on the wall, dozens and dozens of bottles shattered and fell to the ground, covering him in a thin layer of glass shards. It was a final punishment for his insolence, in the regard that he should have known better than to attack Turles, a higher classing Saiyan. His armor was clearly superior to theirs, signifying his experience level.

Turles applied a second, after burner like burst of energy from his boots, forcing the wall behind his pinned opponent to crumble around him. At that point, the man fell away into the loosely paved road, his body slamming against the dirt with a mildly sickening thud. Turning his upper body to catch a tab on the Saiyan who had started the whole thing, Turles released the jets flowing freely from his feet, though continued to hover over the ground, watching as the fighter stepped through the gaping hole in the wall. Displayed on his face was his fury, clear and completely expected.

Within the span of a few seconds, Turles had managed to make a fool out of his entire squad. He should have been thankful that it hadn't been daylight outside, otherwise the entire street would have seen his foolishness. Luckily for him, the suns had gone down hours ago. Night had cast it's shadow over the city, leaving only a handful of light sources and people left on the street. In fact, the primary source of illumination was the light flooding from the broken bar wall. Keeping his eyes trained on the furious fighter before him, Turles only now relented a grin.

“You're going to pay for that!”, the man shouted toward him, clearly under the impression that he stood a chance. His ally was slowly starting to pick himself up from the slam Turles had given him earlier, and he himself was only a little more powerful than either of his cohorts. What was it that he had expected to do to him? Clearly, he was misguided. Perhaps Turles would do the world a favor, and humble this man for the greater good. He could see no downside to doing the world such a service; in fact, he'd probably be thanked by the bar keeper.

”Pay? Your squad mate's the one who broke through the wall.”; though his statement was made out of the urge to defy his opponents even more, it was fairly true. Turles had merely applied a bit of pressure. The guy he'd been shoving should have been able to stop him, or he shouldn't have attacked him at all. Face still lit up with amusement, the ex-pirate watched as the Guard's Son tossed his wrist guards aside. He was, apparently, getting serious. As the first hit the ground, the man tore his gaze from his opponent to glance at the inside of the bar.

A crowd had gathered to watch the rest of the show down, undoubtedly interested in seeing how Turles' preformed. Money changed hands and transferred wallets as the downed warrior slowly retreated, observing with interest while his leader's power increased once more. Casually, Turles placed a finger on his scouter's 'SCAN' button. He could feel the man's power, but he was interested In putting a number to the sensation. Besides that, it was far less effort for him to acquire a solid scan on the others he had just defeated.

The display lit up without any wait, providing him with a quick listing of names in order of strength level. Choosing the top one, which he could only hope was the power level of the man before him, the Saiyan watched as the number lit up his screen. It had, originally, only been in the quintuple digits. However, as a red light slowly began filtering it's way into his regular aura flow, the number slowly sky rocketed into the hundred thousands place. That was interesting enough; it would seem he'd provide an interesting challenge after all.

”Not bad, is this your full power?”, the question was genuine. If this guy had more, Turles would have to worry. However, he seemed to have bottomed out; filled up his tank, as it were. As it stood now, he was not too large of a threat.

Without any warning, the man shot forward toward him, bursting through the air in a brilliant blur of blue and red. Turles' eyes widened as the man approached, but he remained calm. Dropping into his stance, he let the lummox approach. If he wanted to fling himself into the path of death, nobody was going to stop him. It was Saiyan nature to let the idiots die, so that the strong could remain. This man was clearly a member of the aforementioned group, considering the fact that he was charging head first into a battle he knew nothing about.

Black energy exploded around Turles' body as the man entered his guard, fist cocked back and prepared to strike. It was here that his natural instincts kicked in without much conscious effort, coupling with his adrenaline to slow the situation down. For a moment, his mind was blank; the warrior's fist was rushing toward him at high speeds, and he was by no means a hand to hand specialist. However, he most certainly was well equipped enough to deal with such a petty threat. This man was no professional. He looked like he had just come back from a mission, judging by the fresh scars on his face.

Turles' fist whipped out like a crack of lightning, burying itself in his opponent's nose. Immediately, the man came grinding to a halt, freezing just long enough for a black light to coagulate in his other hand. The black threads of energy that had wandered their way up his legs had now stretched to his arms, wrapping themselves tightly around him.

”And now it's over!”, Turles' voice rose above the roar of power that was erupting from between his fingertips as he stepped forward into his enemy's guard, releasing a powerful ball of pure ki into his enemy's gut at point blank range. For a moment, time seemed to stand still; however, things quickly kicked back into gear as the mans' body was forced backward by the discharge, sending his boots skidding across the dirt. Once this process had begun, Turles concentrated energy into both hands once more, throwing them above his head as he jumped into the air.

His light forced a shadow to cast itself over the street, shaking and shivering as the blast rose in power. His heart began pounding in his chest as he threw both hands downward through the air, releasing a massive torrent of slice-ready power towards the man in two ornate slashes. They tore through the air, eating voraciously away at the oxygen around them as dirt was kicked up around their target, who was now crossing his arms in a futile attempt to dispel the blasts. As the first made contact, both limbs were splayed apart, before it fizzled into a shower of black and white lights.

Almost as if in slow motion, the second slice of ki connected with their target, sending his body into the ground at speeds reminiscent of a lightning strike, and with equal precision.

As heat and smoke slowly dispersed around what remained of the street around his opponent, Turles lowered himself to the ground, both hands patting together gently. The man's squad mate was glaring at him with thinly veiled rage as he rushed to his ally's side, only to discover that he was unconscious. While any normal man would have feared retribution, Turles was no normal man. If that man wanted to avenge his fallen comrade, he could feel free to do so. So could anybody else in the bar. Staring intently at the Saiyan who seemed so enraged, Turles spoke again.

”Anybody else want to start some trouble with me?”, while he was not feeling particularly feisty, he would not turn down another challenge if one were to have arisen. However, as he watched the crowd slowly melt back into the bar, it appeared that they had all learned their lesson from his demonstration of power. No one else would challenge him that night; leaving him free to return to his homely spire, which lay waiting in the industrial district. It was freshly purchased; the zeni had been sent on his way home, prior to the entire fiasco that had just occurred.

As he turned to leave, he briefly wondered whether or not it came fully furnished. Saiyan furnishings paled in comparison to the lavish life of luxury he was used to, aboard his ship.

WC: 4,025