Post by Jagaimo on Apr 12, 2023 10:19:24 GMT -5
It had been a long time since the young Saiyan had been back to Salada, back to the District she used to call home. In fact the last time she'd been to Radditsu had been before the open forum at the palace, before Zuqqetta had pretty much handed the throne of the Saiyan Kingdom to Amara and broadcast the whole thing to populace of Plant with her drones. Everyone had seen the build up, the talking, been witness to the 'battle' that had led to Queen Amara leading the Kingdom but none of them had been privy to how fake it had been, how it had all been planned out between two of the three combatants in the trial, that neither of them had taken it seriously. She wasn't even sure why she'd been surprised. People in power or with power always held the cards and did what they wanted and followed their own agenda, they played her, that third combatant, that joke in the arena, fooled her into making helping the fight come across as a legitimate contest. A sham at best. At least there was some good to come out of it all. No one had any idea who Jagaimo actually was and no one had focused on her during the forum or the challenge so apart from a few angry folk when she'd first appeared for her 60 seconds of fame, no one now seemed to recognise her.
The fraying collection of clothes she wore probably helped with that. And the weary black ringed eyes that just stared when she was confronted. And probably the smell. She'd been told more than a few times she stank.
Jagaimo had actively avoided any confrontation, casting her eyes down, turning her back, even apologising for bumping into someone when they clearly bumped into her. It just didn't seem important enough to give a damn about. She'd taken a few beatings here and there but nothing compared to what she'd survived the last few months, and with most of her old wounds almost fully healed, a few more bruises weren't going to cause to many issues for the young woman. She just wanted to come home and be left alone. The Tuffles had been accommodating for the most part, their medical teams treating her despite the comments she'd heard when they thought they were out of earshot. Things had been fragile when the Tuffles had surrendered at first but they had slowly been getting better, but with the recent attempted destruction of Hatchi by Lottus, a Saiyan no less, and Fukushu, some Heran mercenary of apparent renown things hadn't remained so stable. And with the emergence of a living myth above the city, the first Super Saiyan appearing in generations had many Tuffles on edge. That was a lie...it had everybody on edge. That much power in the hands of one person was insane. It had been the right time to leave.
The District felt like home even after so long away, very little changed...the good establishments stayed and were well looked after by the owners and the patrons alike, while the bad ones faded away into memory. Most Saiyan's didn't need much, good food and plenty of it, good company and good entertainment...with those most of them could be happy. A decent range of drinks helped but it wasn't always the biggest draw. The atmosphere of a place was what kept the regulars coming back, the buzz in the air, that noise of being a live...
Jagaimo nudged what was left of the sign with the toe of her boot, flicking it over just to be sure she wasn't dreaming. The word BRAWL could clearly be seen in red paint, the blood splash effect she'd seen hundreds of times on her way in was covered in dirt and grime. The windows had been boarded up, the door was hanging off and there were cracks all over the walls, even some char marks where things had burned against the stone. This place had been here for years, as long as Jagaimo could remember back she'd always found herself drawn back to this place and now in a few months it was a shell. Her fingers trembled as she pushed open what was left of the door and took stock of the ruined interior...tables and chairs had been piled up against the walls, or simple left laying where they had been broken. Blood stains marked the walls and floor, not fresh but recent...the old owner had never liked blood on his floors, always quick to clean but quicker to force the culprits outside to the hole to settle any scores. 'Take it outside!' had always brought a cheer from the patrons...but now the walls echoed back the silence Jagaimo fed them. Until a chuckle broke the quiet, followed by the crunch of boots on the dusty floor.
The young Saiyan hadn't been paying any attention to her senses otherwise they would never had been able to hide from her but now with her alerted she reached out to find the four of them, one ahead of her, three behind, surrounding her like pack animals she'd encountered in the waste. None of them wee dangerous...at least not to her right now but they didn't know that, their scouters could only feel what she allowed them to and right now they were picking up that she was an easy target. Her fists clenched under the travelling cloak she'd acquired somewhere in her travels but she didn't turn to face the three behind her, she just lifted her eyes to look into the face of the Saiyan ahead of her. He had an ugly scar across his chin and lip which gave a strange tone to his voice but he seemed to be the one in charge.
"Zeni, those boots...and we'll let you off with a light beating for trespassing. If you feel like negotiating we'll take the Zeni, those boots and your life."
Ugly was looking her up and down, another easy mark and she could guess what he saw with his eyes and through the lens of his scouter. He was the strongest of the four in the wreck of the bar and could have likely been something more if he had the right teacher...she stopped herself thinking of what ifs and brought her attention back to the speaker,
"What happened here?"
Jagaimo's voice was calm, but she didn't feel it. She'd known the old Vet that had run this place, taking her beatings from him when she stepped out of line or missed her tab payment but he'd never been cruel and he'd tried to impart a little wisdom on her young thick skull from time to time as well. These Saiyan's, these men and women...they just oozed cruelty into the air like it clung to them. Whatever had happened they were likely nothing to do with it, scavengers just making the most of what they could easily keep hold of. The female voice behind her made her tilt her head slightly to catch it,
"Someone took offense to the old guy cheering when that bitch broke the throne...guess he shoulda kept his mouth shut around real warriors."
Something inside Jagaimo howled at the comment and she had to take a breath to stop herself screaming out and crushing the entire block in a tantrum. All because of her. Because she was stupid enough to visit the palace and think she could stand with the others in attendance, to think she was doing something meaningful and symbolic. Someone had shown their support and been buried for it...Jagaimo's jaw clenched.
"You should leave."
Two sets of feet scuffed the floor as they moved closer behind her, coming up short as the loose stones on the tavern floor began to shake. Four scouters began to beep in union as the rattling stones became a violent shake, the loose furniture starting to clatter from its piles as it became unstable, those little inventions picking up the rising power in their centre. There was no explosive release, just a steady rise around the young woman that made her cloak billow around her and the loose strands of hair from her mane lift of their own accord. Higher and higher it rose, the scouters racing to keep pace until suddenly the beeping stopped, every reading on them showing the girl in front of them hadn't changed, that she still held the power they'd sensed when she first walked into their lair. Ugly waved a hand, a signal to some other behind her, feet shifting in the dust again drawing her ear. It might be enough, she'd never tried it before...but if it didn't the four of them would be dead soon...
Her power flared for a moment, blasting outwards from her in a wave of force that slammed loose chairs into the walls, kicking up the dust and blowing it out the windows...
"NOW!"
Again as soon as it had risen, everything was calm again, the scouters not having time to register the blip in power...but the Saiyan's had witnessed it. They were grunts at best, thugs at worst but even they possessed enough survival instinct to know know that they had chosen the wrong mark today. Jagaimo hadn't even bothered to watch them leave when she strode over to the bar where she righted an old stool and took a seat, resting her head in her hands, left alone with her thoughts again.
The young fighter had no idea how long she'd been alone for since dispersing the thugs, but when she felt something else o the edge of her senses step towards the entrance of the bar her hand whipped out and grabbed the half broken stool beside her, flinging it without look against the wall beside the broken down door, shattering it into splinters.
"We're closed."
The fraying collection of clothes she wore probably helped with that. And the weary black ringed eyes that just stared when she was confronted. And probably the smell. She'd been told more than a few times she stank.
Jagaimo had actively avoided any confrontation, casting her eyes down, turning her back, even apologising for bumping into someone when they clearly bumped into her. It just didn't seem important enough to give a damn about. She'd taken a few beatings here and there but nothing compared to what she'd survived the last few months, and with most of her old wounds almost fully healed, a few more bruises weren't going to cause to many issues for the young woman. She just wanted to come home and be left alone. The Tuffles had been accommodating for the most part, their medical teams treating her despite the comments she'd heard when they thought they were out of earshot. Things had been fragile when the Tuffles had surrendered at first but they had slowly been getting better, but with the recent attempted destruction of Hatchi by Lottus, a Saiyan no less, and Fukushu, some Heran mercenary of apparent renown things hadn't remained so stable. And with the emergence of a living myth above the city, the first Super Saiyan appearing in generations had many Tuffles on edge. That was a lie...it had everybody on edge. That much power in the hands of one person was insane. It had been the right time to leave.
The District felt like home even after so long away, very little changed...the good establishments stayed and were well looked after by the owners and the patrons alike, while the bad ones faded away into memory. Most Saiyan's didn't need much, good food and plenty of it, good company and good entertainment...with those most of them could be happy. A decent range of drinks helped but it wasn't always the biggest draw. The atmosphere of a place was what kept the regulars coming back, the buzz in the air, that noise of being a live...
Jagaimo nudged what was left of the sign with the toe of her boot, flicking it over just to be sure she wasn't dreaming. The word BRAWL could clearly be seen in red paint, the blood splash effect she'd seen hundreds of times on her way in was covered in dirt and grime. The windows had been boarded up, the door was hanging off and there were cracks all over the walls, even some char marks where things had burned against the stone. This place had been here for years, as long as Jagaimo could remember back she'd always found herself drawn back to this place and now in a few months it was a shell. Her fingers trembled as she pushed open what was left of the door and took stock of the ruined interior...tables and chairs had been piled up against the walls, or simple left laying where they had been broken. Blood stains marked the walls and floor, not fresh but recent...the old owner had never liked blood on his floors, always quick to clean but quicker to force the culprits outside to the hole to settle any scores. 'Take it outside!' had always brought a cheer from the patrons...but now the walls echoed back the silence Jagaimo fed them. Until a chuckle broke the quiet, followed by the crunch of boots on the dusty floor.
The young Saiyan hadn't been paying any attention to her senses otherwise they would never had been able to hide from her but now with her alerted she reached out to find the four of them, one ahead of her, three behind, surrounding her like pack animals she'd encountered in the waste. None of them wee dangerous...at least not to her right now but they didn't know that, their scouters could only feel what she allowed them to and right now they were picking up that she was an easy target. Her fists clenched under the travelling cloak she'd acquired somewhere in her travels but she didn't turn to face the three behind her, she just lifted her eyes to look into the face of the Saiyan ahead of her. He had an ugly scar across his chin and lip which gave a strange tone to his voice but he seemed to be the one in charge.
"Zeni, those boots...and we'll let you off with a light beating for trespassing. If you feel like negotiating we'll take the Zeni, those boots and your life."
Ugly was looking her up and down, another easy mark and she could guess what he saw with his eyes and through the lens of his scouter. He was the strongest of the four in the wreck of the bar and could have likely been something more if he had the right teacher...she stopped herself thinking of what ifs and brought her attention back to the speaker,
"What happened here?"
Jagaimo's voice was calm, but she didn't feel it. She'd known the old Vet that had run this place, taking her beatings from him when she stepped out of line or missed her tab payment but he'd never been cruel and he'd tried to impart a little wisdom on her young thick skull from time to time as well. These Saiyan's, these men and women...they just oozed cruelty into the air like it clung to them. Whatever had happened they were likely nothing to do with it, scavengers just making the most of what they could easily keep hold of. The female voice behind her made her tilt her head slightly to catch it,
"Someone took offense to the old guy cheering when that bitch broke the throne...guess he shoulda kept his mouth shut around real warriors."
Something inside Jagaimo howled at the comment and she had to take a breath to stop herself screaming out and crushing the entire block in a tantrum. All because of her. Because she was stupid enough to visit the palace and think she could stand with the others in attendance, to think she was doing something meaningful and symbolic. Someone had shown their support and been buried for it...Jagaimo's jaw clenched.
"You should leave."
Two sets of feet scuffed the floor as they moved closer behind her, coming up short as the loose stones on the tavern floor began to shake. Four scouters began to beep in union as the rattling stones became a violent shake, the loose furniture starting to clatter from its piles as it became unstable, those little inventions picking up the rising power in their centre. There was no explosive release, just a steady rise around the young woman that made her cloak billow around her and the loose strands of hair from her mane lift of their own accord. Higher and higher it rose, the scouters racing to keep pace until suddenly the beeping stopped, every reading on them showing the girl in front of them hadn't changed, that she still held the power they'd sensed when she first walked into their lair. Ugly waved a hand, a signal to some other behind her, feet shifting in the dust again drawing her ear. It might be enough, she'd never tried it before...but if it didn't the four of them would be dead soon...
Her power flared for a moment, blasting outwards from her in a wave of force that slammed loose chairs into the walls, kicking up the dust and blowing it out the windows...
"NOW!"
Again as soon as it had risen, everything was calm again, the scouters not having time to register the blip in power...but the Saiyan's had witnessed it. They were grunts at best, thugs at worst but even they possessed enough survival instinct to know know that they had chosen the wrong mark today. Jagaimo hadn't even bothered to watch them leave when she strode over to the bar where she righted an old stool and took a seat, resting her head in her hands, left alone with her thoughts again.
The young fighter had no idea how long she'd been alone for since dispersing the thugs, but when she felt something else o the edge of her senses step towards the entrance of the bar her hand whipped out and grabbed the half broken stool beside her, flinging it without look against the wall beside the broken down door, shattering it into splinters.
"We're closed."
Thread PL: 51,000 (Suppressed to 500).
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WC: 1660
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Antisense - Inactive
WC: 1660
TWC: 1660
Posts: 1