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| The Boonta Eve Classic!; Rem & Vash | |
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| Topic Started: May 25 2015, 03:05 AM (250 Views) | |
| Rem | May 25 2015, 03:05 AM Post #1 |
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The Super Namek
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[align=center]<center><DIV id="scroll3" style="width:490; height:100; overflow:auto; border: 2px solid; text-align: center; vertical-align: text-bottom; background-image:url('http://puu.sh/juatU/2b02a867a8.jpg'); font-weight:bold; color:darkblue"> <br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div> </DIV></center>[/align] | |
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| Vash | May 26 2015, 03:01 PM Post #2 |
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Gross...
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"Aww, come on Rem, just one drink!?" Vash pleaded with his Namekian counterpart as his own drink sloshed about carelessly as he raised his glass into the air in celebration. Bits of the alcoholic beverage splashed about the table the two were sharing, dining on a bit of a victory dinner from their recent qualification to the next round of the series of races. Rem remained silent, although couldn't fight the smile that forced its way onto his sullen emerald face. Vash had become aware of the fact that Rem had given up the drink, something about bad decisions drowning in guilt, something like that. But, the demon was enjoying the relative peaceful break he had from fighting, a celebratory drink was not only on the top of his list of things to enjoy, it was a down right necessity! And Rem's abstinence from alcohol was putting a bit of a damper on his jovial mood. Vash's eyes studied Rem's tired and worn face, and focused in on the majin M imprinted on his forehead. The curse mark held a bit of influential power over the Namekian. The demon had to wonder, if he really wanted to, could he force Rem to break his alcoholic abstinence? Vash smiled at the thought. But, it was a thought, and a thought alone. He would never force his friend to break a vow like that. Rem was all Vash cared about for the time being. He was everything. His future, his ties to humanity... Without Rem, Vash wouldn't have any answers. He wouldn't have a purpose. Their bond was growing as each day passed. "Nahh, forget it," Vash said as his face sunk a bit, sliding back down into the booth of where he sat. The two were celebrating their advancement to the next great race in the series. 'The Boonta Eve Classic,' as it were. It promised to be an even greater challenge than the previous one, where they barely squeaked into qualifying, and Vash nearly lost his head, quite literally. "Ya know Rem," Vash went on after he took another haul off of his drink and slammed the mug down on the old wooden table before picking up his burger which had recently arrived. "You could at least pretend like you are enjoying yourself. This is supposed to be fun, isn't it?" Vash took a large bite out of his hamburger sandwich, juice began to drip out of the corners of his smirking mouth. "I know I'm having fun!" "Stop it, will ya?" Rem's face turned sour. "Get a hold of yourself. This is more than fun and games Vash. And, you really need to learn how to carry your licquor..." There was that Namekian scolding Vash remembered all too well. "You're acting like a god damned slob!" Rem handed a napkin over to Vash in order to dab at the mess he was making on his face. Vash stared back for a moment, silence between the two, before he began to laugh hysterrically. Bits of food dropped from his mouth, but he didn't care. He shook his head and once again dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, Rem," Vash admitted and nodded along. "And besides, the next race is tomorrow. I shouldn't get too sloppy tonight and have a hangover for the big race." As much as Vash downplayed the seriousness of the situation, the Majin bond the two now shared shed light on Rem's current plight. See, even though this was a bit of fun for Vash, a break from the gut wrenching fights and to the death combat that had seemed to become somewhat of a normal regularity for him no matter where he went, Vash knew that Rem was playing for keeps here. He needed the prize money in order to procure a ship capable of transporting all of the Namekian captives that were held here. For the first time in a long time, Vash was feeling an emotion that was strange and foreign to him. Sympathy. His demon blood boiled at the thought of it, but it was true. Rem was all he had in the universe. His best friend. Rem's wants became Vash's wants. IF he had the money or the means to make his wish of rescuing his tribe, Vash would do it in a heart beat. But, seeing as that just wasn't possible, the races seemed to be their best option of making it happen. The two finished their meals in relative silence, thinking about the race that was going to begin in a matter of hours. They both needed to get some rest, and Vash desperately needed to sober up. Once they were finished, Vash paid for both of their meals, and each returned to their respective quarters to get some much needed sleep. The next day was going to be huge for their future plans. |
![]() WIKI // THEME SONG 2015 ROLE PLAY OF THE YEAR WINNER!! | |
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| Rem | May 26 2015, 03:17 PM Post #3 |
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The Super Namek
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"Can you believe these fuckers?" Rem heard on the way back to his room. He kept walking, really wanting to get the face paint he had to wear off his face soon. A moment later he stopped however, just around the corner, as he heard somthing that pissed 'em off. "At least some of the sponsors are in on it. They're downplaying the prize money as a group so they can pay the pilots less. How fucking stupid do you need to be?" The guy asked, apparently unbelievng of the simple greed of others. "I mean, i've been racing for the past 4 years. I know what the purses for these things are. Am I just supposed to not notice that this years is a helluva lot lighter than the last few? Come on..." "Seriously?" The other man in the conversation asked. "I've been piloting for a while, but it was all regional. I thought the prize money was kinda pathetic for the level of race, but didn't think much on it. Assumed the Boonta purse would just be that much bigger." "Don't fucking count on it. I tell ya what though, I got a vibro blade in my room. Let's see what the sponsor says when I put it to his fucking throat and demand what's mine." "Seriously?" The second one asked. "Won't you get disqualified?" "I'm a champion. Ain't no one disqualifying my ass for anything less than stone cold murder with a dozen eye witnesses. I'd suggest you take care of business too, man. It's the Boonta Eve tomorrow, they aren't going to fuck with you if you demand more of your hard earned cash." "Maybe your ri..." "Damn straight I'm right. Go take care of business, son." A moment later Rem was forced to move on as the two pilots went there separate ways. "Shit... I think i'll take care of business too." Rem muttered to himself. He was in these races for the money, damn it. Ain't no way he was going to get himself screwed by some greedy business man. A few minutes later the Namekian was being invited into his sponsors room. He was actually surprised to see that the man had other company already, a greasy mechanic fellow. Rem recognized him. He was part of the team that had gone in together and were working as both sponsor, and mechanic team for Vash's ship. Well, hell... he could take care of two birds with one stone then. "Let me cut to the point." Rem said. "I know you're in cahoots with some other sponsors to hide the real prize money amounts." He stopped, looking at the looks of surprise that came across their faces. "I can read you like books, don't even bother to deny it. Here's the score. Keep what you've taken for now, but tomorrow... You don't get a damn slice of the pie. All the prize money is mine, and your pilots too scruffy." Rem said, throwing a hand at the mechanic. "You've taken enough, so yer going to lose the lions share of the BIG pot that you were counting on." Rem turned then, then thought better of it and swung back around to face the men before they could object. His hands shot out, and psychic energy flowed free. The pieces of shit were raised out of their seats by invisible strands of mental energy that wrapped themselves, tightly, around each of their necks. "This is a warning. Do not fuck with me, and do not try to screw with me. I can kill you from across a crowded room and NO ONE will know. A hundred witnesses will testify you simply choked to death on fucking AIR." Rem almost shouted that last word. He held them aloft for a few more oxygen depriving seconds, then released them unceremoniously. They thunked back into their chairs and had to catch themselves before falling. "We're done here." Rem said, and left the room. NOW he could go get some sleep. -815 |
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[align=center]<center><DIV id="scroll3" style="width:490; height:100; overflow:auto; border: 2px solid; text-align: center; vertical-align: text-bottom; background-image:url('http://puu.sh/juatU/2b02a867a8.jpg'); font-weight:bold; color:darkblue"> <br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div> </DIV></center>[/align] | |
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| Vash | May 26 2015, 03:40 PM Post #4 |
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Gross...
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Vash awoke early the morning of the race with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. At first he thought he was just hungover or it was gas, a foretelling of the unfortunate bowel movement that he would inevitably have to pass in the near future. But, it wasn't that. It was nervousness. Something he hadn't felt yet in this series. Each race they seemed to qualify by the skin of their necks, barely sneaking into the next round. The racers were getting increasinly more experienced with the start of each race, and seemingly more cut throat and aggressive as well. Overall skill was becoming less important, and tactics were weighing more heavily. This was hardly cause for concern, as Vash and Rem were accomplished fighter pilots, but still... the stakes were high, at least for the would be Namekian rescues. Vash dressed in his racing attire and ventured off to the pits to meet up with Rem before the race began. He found Rem in his own pit, wearing a similar outfit. Vash could see it in his long time friends' eyes. Complete and utter concentration. Vash walked up and waved a friendly hand, but Rem only returned with a cold stare. "Those bastards," the Namekian cursed, and Vash raised a curious eyebrow. "They are holding out on us." "What the hell are you talking about?" Vash asked, his visage furrowed with his confusion. "The sponsors," Rem answered with aggression building. "They are lying about the winnings. There's money being split on the side." Rem's face suddenly softened and turned to a sly, know it all smirk. "But don't you worry. I took care of that." Rem pointed with a head nod to a couple of worried looking rich types sitting in the crowd. They nearly leapt out of their seats in fear from the simple gaze Rem had bestowed upon them. Vash laughed in return. "Good job, buddy," he applauded his friend. It was kind of a shame that things had to come to this, but Rem was desperate for cash. And if there was one thing Vash knew all too well, it was that you don't fucking cross Rem. Not if you want to live. "Ladies, Gentlemen, Race fans!" A voice blared over the loud speaker. "Welcome, to the Third Annual Boonta Eve Classic!" The crowd rose to their feet, cheering and applauding at the announcement. Large floating monitors rose into the area, cameras hovered over each individual car, giving each spectator an up close and personal view of the race. "Racers... To the starting line!" Once again, the crowd roared in anticipation. Vash locked eyes with Rem once again, and they gave each other a knowing nod. Teamwork and perserverance would once again catapult them into qualifying to the next round. And they certainly needed to do so, in order for Rem to rescue his Namekian tribe. Vash gave his friend a thumbs up and jumped into his speeder, moving it into position for the race to begin. The engine vibrated the entire vehicle, he could feel it shaking his hands as they gripped the steering stick. A starting beacon hovered over the starting line as the rest of the racers took their marks. The red light at the top flashed. Vash's heart began to pump with adrenaline. This was their time, Rem and Vash both. The yellow light in the middle flashed. He gripped the stick even harder, and throttled the accelerator. The engine purred loudly under his command. He had complete control over the craft. He was the racer, at least for today. He glanced at Rem once more, and took a deep breath. And the green light flashed, all the vehicles roared to life, launching from the starting line. WC 628//1,447//2,262 |
![]() WIKI // THEME SONG 2015 ROLE PLAY OF THE YEAR WINNER!! | |
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| Rem | May 26 2015, 03:40 PM Post #5 |
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The Super Namek
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The next morning Rem had to sit and wait for the Keliouxan girl to do the make up thing once more, then give him a peck on the cheek before scurrying out the door with a series of giggles that made Rem blush. That little girl was going to get him in trouble at this rate... He caught up with Vash outside the massive dock where the corvettes were all lined up and ready for the start of the race. "Good news;" Rem began. "Our sponsors were in a meeting last night. Apparently they've decided we're going to get a bigger cut of the prize money." "Well, fuck yeah!" Vash exclaimed. "Nice guys." "Yup." Rem remarked, nodded, and then began to pull on his helmet. "Six Racers today, and all 4 of them are better than we are it seems." "Watch out for the guy starting in the second seed. I saw a hidden hatch on the back of his corvette when he thought no one was looking. I'm pretty sure it's some sort of weapon system." Vash warned. Rem looked up to see the corvette, burning into his memory exactly what its colors and profile looked like. "Gotcha. Shall we?" Rem asked. The two of them proceeded out to their 'vettes then, hopped in, and pulled the canopys tight and secured. A few minutes the last of the pilots joined them, and the annoncer started his jig once more. Rem turned the key and revved high, letting his engine work through the day old oil and fuel in its tanks. Momentarily it settled into a nice, easy purr. "You got that problem taken care of?" Rem asked over his radio. "Yeah, the boys spent half the night tracking down the problem. Shouldn't be any repeats." Vash responded. Just as he finished speaking, the red light on the docking door came on. The announcer was beginning the race finally, it seemed. After a few moments it began to blink, 3 times, then switched to yellow. The yellow blinked three more times, then changed to a solid green color. Instantly, the six ships shot out of the dock. Rem took a look back just to make sure Vash hadn't managed to find an opening to disable another of their opponents before the race, but apparently security had been tighter this time. All of them had come out. The group settled in a 2 line, 3 deep formation. Rem and Vash were side by side at the back, drafting off the guys in front of them who were drafting off the guys in front of them- who were swinging left and right in an attempt to force more of the pressure wakes into their tails. Like 2 weaving snakes the group raced on. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, and Rem was content to wait for it too. Someone had to make a move. At some point, he realized they were waiting on HIM to make a move, being in back and knowing he had to move up. He decided against it, however. The first quarter of the race passed like that, no one moving, everyone in the same formation. A look on Rem's radar showed that the guy in 4th was making slight gains on the fellow ahead of him, which meant Vash was making gains as well. A few seconds later, however, Vash cursed over the radio. Before the Namekian could ask what was going on, he saw it. Racer four suddenly seemed like it was made of smoke. Vash tried to swerve out of the way, but he got clipped as the corvette fell out of formation. "VASH?" Rem yelled, his friend falling out of formation as well for a moment. "Got it. Fucker... used that weapon. I saw the grate open a moment before he shot two bolts into the guy ahead of me's engine. Fuck... Clipped me. Losing fuel, but not too bad. Pierced it on the upper half of the tank. So once it.... yeah, there we go. Its not leaking cuz the hole is too high." Rem looked at his radar and saw that Vash was a dozen corvette lengths behind the main group now. He'd managed to get it back under control pretty quick, but that amount of space would be unable to make up with less than 65% of the race remaining. Not unless.. "Woah... what the..." Vash exclaimed. "Go..." Rem began, straining to speak. "Go with it..." His mind was wrapped fully around the corvette, PULLING as hard as he could with his mind. Slowly, ever so slowly Vash began to move forward. Ten lenghts, eight... 775//1590//3037 |
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[align=center]<center><DIV id="scroll3" style="width:490; height:100; overflow:auto; border: 2px solid; text-align: center; vertical-align: text-bottom; background-image:url('http://puu.sh/juatU/2b02a867a8.jpg'); font-weight:bold; color:darkblue"> <br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div> </DIV></center>[/align] | |
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| Vash | May 26 2015, 04:05 PM Post #6 |
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Gross...
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The race progressed swiftly, if not somewhat uneventful. Until, the warning Rem had given had come to fruition. One of the other racers had managed to sneak a weapon into his vehicle, and had taken a pot shot at him. Whether it was some kind of divine intervention, luck, or just some blind clumsiness, Vash had somehow managed to maneuver out of the way as the bolt struck the vehicle beside him. He wasn't that lucky, however. Try his damndest, he couldn't get out of the way of the wild death machine next to him, and his own corvette was struck. The machine began to resist his controls, try as he could. And on top of it, he could smell the fuel that was now pouring from the fuselage. "FUCK!" Vash screamed into the radio. If his vehicle was out of commission, he couldn't help Rem. What was he going to do? Try some stupid bullshit like last time and make a repair mid race? Last time nearly cost him his life... "Vash?" The friendly and familiar voice of Rem calmed him down, somewhat anyway. Vash quickly explained what had happened in his best words. He wanted to help Rem. NEEDED to help, no matter what the case may be. Vash prepared himself for the same stupid thing he was going to do, as he did last time. He grabbed the torch, and ... just when he was about to attempt the repair, something felt weird with his vehicle. Like it was being pulled with magnets or something. "Rem?" Vash spoke into the radio once more. "I don't really know how to say this, but..." "I got ya, buddy," Vash could hear the strain in Rem's voice. "I literally have you." Vash shook his head and laugh. Rem's skill and strength never seemed to amaze him. The guy always seemed to surpass expectations. Vash probably should have known better by now than to underestimate his friend. It was just one of the many qualities that drew Vash towards the Namekian in the first place. Rem's telekenetic hold on Vash's racer was enough for now, but would it be enough for a victory? It seemed unlikely at this point that the demon would emerge victorious. Rem needed the money. Rem needed to win. And Vash was going to do everything he possibly could to ensure that happened. He let go of the control stick and allowed Rem to do his thing unhindered. He was only going to make it more difficult if he tried to do any piloting. The two were sitting in third and fourth place, currently. The fifth place racer had fallen too far behind to be considered a threat any longer. So that just left the first and second place guys. And the second place guy was going to be the hard part. He still had that cannon on his vehicle, and who knew how many more shots it had. Rem's aid actually gave Vash an idea. "Rem, just get close to the next guy, and let me handle the rest." "If you say so," the skepticism in the Namekian's tone was understandable. "Seriously, just have a little faith," Vash reassured him. The race zoomed on, and Rem and Vash were gaining on the second place racer. The extra added weight from the cannon was obviously a bit of a disadvantage in terms of speed, but if he had the ability to take out the competition... It was obviously something he had taken into account. The flap opened once more, revealing the cannon's barrel, just as Vash had expected. "Rem.... Watch out!" Vash warned, although it was kind of wasted breath, he knew all too well that Rem was in control and already was aware of the danger. The cannon fired, and Rem was already in his evasive maneuver. His corvette jerked hard to the left, and with his concentration, so did Vash's. I have to do something... Vash thought to himself. I have to help him! That's when the idea struck him light a lightning bolt. WC 679//2,126//3,716 |
![]() WIKI // THEME SONG 2015 ROLE PLAY OF THE YEAR WINNER!! | |
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| Rem | May 26 2015, 04:28 PM Post #7 |
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The Super Namek
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Slowly, ever so damned slowly Vash Creeped back into range with the other racers. More shots were fired, but they missed thanks to Rem's quick reflexes. Vash was only a corvette length or two back now. A little more... And Rem could PUSH him into victory. Between the strenuous psychic energy he was expending, as well as watching out for the guy with the ki cannon, as well as occasionally dodging around the damned asteroids, Rem knew he wasn't going to be able to win. He wasn't focusing enough on the minuet details of racing that meant the difference between victory or defeat. His shifting and turning were a millisecond to slow, meaning he couldn't stay exactly in the draft position, and couldn't make up the space needed to pull ahead at the right moment. That was alright. As long as one of them finished in the lead... "Get me right up between them, and let go." Vash said over the headset. "What?" Rem asked, "I can just push you. I think theres enough..." at that moment Rem's power waned from lack of powering up. Vash's corvette seemed to stutter. "Fuck... Can't keep this up the rest of the race." Rem realized then. If he tried powering up, he would fry the circuitry in the corvette, slow, and then Vash would get out of range of his mental powers, and the same result would be had. Both would lose. "Get me between them, NOW!" Vash roared. Rem tightened down on his mind, and THRUST Vash with everything. The connection was severed then, as Rem was just too damn tired to continue. Vash soared ahead, then right between the two guys in first and second. For a moment, and to the fans, it would seem like this unlikely, unlucky, damaged racer would soar to victory. In the next instant, however, the corvette shuttered, slowed, and then... "VASH!" Rem shouted at the sight of the Demon slamming into the guy in first place, knocking him hard to the left. An instant later Vash steered back to correct, and struck the guy on the left, the one with the cannon. They should have bounced off one another, but something happened... Pieces of metal got caught up, they got stuck together. Their counter steering worked against them, and as one the two corvettes went into a spinning dive. "VASH!" Rem screamed. "GET OUT OF...." A massive explosion blinded Rem then, as the two interlocked corvettes struch an asteroid and exploded. "VAAAAAAAASSSSH!" Rem roared, not even noticing as he passed the finish line in first place. A few seconds later, the guy who had led all race followed, his ship looking mangled from the collision with Vash. That was it. Of the 6 racers who had started, only two of them managed to finish. Two of the others were picked up by tugs and brought back... But no one was going to be going out for Vash, and the fucker with the cannon on his corvette. They, and their ships... were just gone. "God damn it." Rem muttered as he landed back on Suicide Stations dock. -521//2111//4237 |
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[align=center]<center><DIV id="scroll3" style="width:490; height:100; overflow:auto; border: 2px solid; text-align: center; vertical-align: text-bottom; background-image:url('http://puu.sh/juatU/2b02a867a8.jpg'); font-weight:bold; color:darkblue"> <br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div> </DIV></center>[/align] | |
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