It Comes in Pairs

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It Comes in Pairs

Post by Turles on 8/29/2012, 8:52 am

The Trexian Epilogue

The night had settled slowly over planet Trexia, and Turles couldn't say he enjoyed it. The place felt so damn foreign to him; there were no fields, there were no forests. It was just one urban sprawl after another, spaced out throughout massive deserts. They had to have gotten their water from under ground somewhere, probably deep reserves of it. At least that's what he'd have thought. He hadn't seen any massive lakes or ponds or oceans upon entry. Was it possible, to have a sea beneath a desert?

Grumbling quietly as he strolled forward over what was apparently a tarmac, the Saiyan glanced up at the sky. He could see the King's Flagship slowly descending over the planet, like some kind of grim shadow. Drawing in a steadying breath, he strode forward at a timely pace, his feet pounding against the pavement like ground beneath him. He was going to need one hell of a head start to catch up to that thing. He could see the engines releasing massive flames to propel the ship forward through Trexian sky; those same engines were famed for their efficiency and speed.

As he reached a sprint, bright purple and white light began to flash and revolve around his feet. Energy was massing in the form of an aura around his body, forcing more power to flood his flesh as his boots slammed into the pavement. His arms accelerated their pumping motion as his legs surged forward, slowly pushing his body off of the pavement as he began to take flight toward the massive ship on the horizon. He could see that King Vegeta's ship was about to make contact with the Trexian Defense Force.

He hadn't been here long, but he could remember hearing about them well enough. They had allowed their land forces, known collectively as Securitech, to deal with him upon his initial arrival. While they had been enough to overwhelm his allies in their pods, Turles had been a different story entirely. He had managed to obliterate them in a handful of seconds by using his superior intelligence and knowledge of morale. His allies had probably taken potshots into crowds or risked getting up close.

That had been their downfall, not his. He was not doomed to make the same mistakes that they were. He was naturally intelligent by trait and by nature; he was not to be condemned to death by making some foolish blunder like that. Shit, the thought of his allies dying of their own stupidity brought a grin to his face. When he got home to Vegeta, he was most definitely getting a promotion. As jets screamed to life on his left and right side, the former space pirate could only grin.

Here they came, blasting forward from their home soil like a breath exhaled from Trexia itself. Each jet was small and black, metallic and apparently well crafted. These people were, apparently, much like the Tuffles. They excelled in technology as opposed to anything else. Grinning as he curved off to the left in a daredevil's spiral toward his first target, Turles watched as the night sky was illuminated by dozens upon dozens of dancing jets. How intriguing and invigorating!

The first pair went soaring past him with vicious, sound-barrier breaking roars. He had been at cruising speed, to avoid detection. Now that they had managed to pass him? He could kick it up a notch. It was often easier to pursue a jet fighter from behind, as it was often impossible for them to fire backward at their opponent. That was the type of advantage that Turles so coveted. He didn't mind if they couldn't fire back at him; he'd still fire right at them.

Both hands cocked carelessly at his waist as he accelerated, his bed headed hair whipping furiously against his face. He couldn't sense anything powerful inside of the jets; and if they were merely weak they'd still have been able to fly without help. He was about to beat these bastards like they'd stolen something, and indeed they had. By building an underground mall where his ship was supposed to land, they had inadvertently stolen his time. He wouldn't even need to be here if it weren't for them. So now, as that same bright purple light slowly collected in his hands, Turles steeled himself for some more debris.

He threw both hands together simultaneously, sending jets of black and purple light flying through the blue sky that encased him. The jet on the left seemed to lock onto Turles' discharge as if it were a missile and quickly spun to the side, it's long body twisting and turning to avoid it. However, the jet on his right seemed to fail in it's detection or react too slowly, veering off just as the other jet completed it's evasion.

It lit up in a blossom of heat and smoke, falling quickly toward the city below as gray smoke billowed off of it in a lengthy plume. He didn't care to watch it as it careened into a building and then subsequently, out the other side in equally destructive fashion. His body curved in an effort to follow the remaining jet as it soared through the sky, turning to try and get a sight on it's opponent. Turles knew he could out speed the contraption before him; so that didn't really bother him very much.

Adrenaline forced it's way through his veins as he continued forward, curving his path to be superior to that of his opponent's as another pulsing light emerged from thin air into his hands. He was about to murder this guy with extreme prejudice; something he took more pride in than anything else. Taking aim as more wind whipped at his hair, the Pirate took advantage of his years of extreme training. He'd have been able to make this same shot in the middle of a sandstorm, taking place in a gravity chamber, while partially blinded.

He released his pulse and then quickly ascended through the skies toward his next target, a small fleet of the things which appeared to be closing in on King Vegeta's flag ship. Several Saiyans had already been dispatched and were dealing with the jets appropriately, but he had to catch up or else he'd never make it home. After all, a planet scheduled for resale was not one frequently kept stocked with food. Hell, he didn't know if their food was safe for him to eat. He hadn't had a decent meal since he'd arrived.

Why would he take the time to skin one of the Trexians? First he'd have to de-fur it and then he'd need to sterilize it somehow, and then he'd have to take care of that atrocious stench that seemed to rise off of their bodies like some kind of super power. It was disgusting, the scent they produced. It was infuriating as well. He probably smelled exactly like they did, by now. The desert sun had not been kind to him.

He increased in altitude sharply as he rose through the skies, now able to see the fight clearly. The Saiyans were ripping through the fleet without much difficulty, but they were out numbered. It was probably one of the Commander's squads; or, so he'd have thought. As he neared his new found allies, he quickly noted the insignias that littered their battle armor; it was clear that they were some kind of Elite. Hopefully, they would be feeling jolly enough to let him pass.

Otherwise, something told him that shit was going to hit the fan.

”Turles, is that you?”, called a familiar fighter's voice, as it approached from beneath him. It belonged to a low class warrior, appropriately named Bulluce. He was supposed to be on-planet already when the battle began; for a hazardous moment, dread raced through his blood, which ran cold. Was it possible that he'd heard of the betrayal on Trexia? If he had, was it possible that he knew Turles was the one who had orchestrated the entire thing? Black eyes locked onto Bulluce's rising form.

”Bulluce!”, he called out, voice full of mock surprise and shock. Bulluce appeared to be heavily damaged, suffering from wounds all over his body. Apparently, he'd been discovered on the ground somewhere. From the burns and scorch marks that littered his armor, the batons had sunk into his flesh a great many times. The warrior grinned as this realization came to pass. ”Great to see you!”

He called out to his ally, who grinned before noticing the black and white light that had manifested itself in his hand. As he noted the ball, his jaw quickly fell open, preceding the third flash of light across the sky as Turles loosed the attack in Bulluce's direction. For a moment, the Saiyan seemed to hang suspended in the sky, before his new opponent's blast sent him flying toward the Earth once more. Bulluce released a guttural roar as his body entered it's descent, a cloud of black smoke rising from it.

However, Turles wasn't done. His body quickly vanished, appearing in the center of his former ally's flight path. Both hands were knotted together above his head, preparing their timing. As soon as the downed fighter entered his guard, Turles' fists came slamming down hard upon his chest plate, shattering it with a gigantic crack, that seemed to carry across the sky.

Bulluce's body went flying once more toward the Trexian soil. The pirate's hands rose once more, this time releasing several chasing pulses of black and white down after him. Watching the Saiyan's battered body fall swiftly into the city below, Turles turned his attention once more to the sky; his eyes alight with fire as he dashed off toward the flag ship once more. He didn't need confirmation on whether or not his opponent even knew of his betrayal.

As far as he was concerned, he was the only survivor on Trexia. Bulluce being alive would only foster doubt and suspicion of his story. He already knew what he'd tell them; that his squad mates had fought valiantly and with all the courage deserving of a Saiyan. Of course, they had all died like cattle, but that didn't worry him. The pods had no internal video capture device, so it wasn't as though someone was going to prove him wrong.

With any luck, that story would separate him from the unranked and the ranked. He would be able to finally ascend into the elite class; at the very least, he'd be within reach. He had been born a low class fighter, but even he knew that he was far too powerful for any designation of that sort. He'd always been different, more powerful, faster, more quick on the uptake. Hell, his last squad had died doing what he'd done with ease.

Atop that, they hadn't the brains to do the same thing he'd done. He'd tried cutting a deal with those people, and it'd failed. It wasn't his fault that the rest of the Saiyans who had landed on this pathetic planet were so weak and foolish; it wasn't his fault that they were so fucking incompetent. It was their own fault for dying like fish down a drain.

As he raced through the aerial battlefield, no warriors cast glances over their shoulders to check Turles' identity. He was clearly a Saiyan, judging from his battle armor and his rather normal appearance. The inhabitants of Trexia were those weird, furry looking fellows who were so very easy to kill. For all they knew, he was probably a courier to the King. Of course, they'd be looking when he entered the flagship. They'd all be looking at Turles with reverence, as they should have. He was a war hero now, after all. He couldn't have lesser warriors disrespecting him!

Then again, even if they did, he'd have probably just murdered them as he had his squad mates. Unfortunate accidents were always a possibility.

WC: 2,013

Posts : 80
Join date : 2012-07-02

Character Info
Level: 26
Race: Saiyan
Location: Vegeta

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