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Something Wicked; Bardock - FT PRP
Topic Started: Jun 28 2015, 10:01 AM (242 Views)
Future Gohan
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The Harbinger
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Bardock stepped out of the convenience store with a grumble, shaking the pack of cigarettes that he'd spent too much money on and smacking it against his open palm. The tobacco shook loose inside of the carton and jittered against the paper. Bardock unwrapped the package carefully and flicked it open with his thumb, eventually withdrawing a single cigarette and planting it between his lips. He jostled it upward and brought right index finger up to the little tuft of tobacco's tip.

It caught fire and he inhaled deep, pulling on the cigarette for a long drag.

Stepping forward onto the curb, Bardock surveyed his surroundings and thrust the little carton of cigarettes into his pocket. A series of brightly glowing streetlights littered the road in front of him and kept the street illuminated. He sucked in more tobacco and headed for the curb, vaguely aware of the commotion brewing on the corner. He was more focused on his first cigarette in over a year and a half. The warmth felt good in his lungs and helped to mitigate the chilly, North City air.

He turned left and the disturbance got louder, but he tried his best to ignore it, focusing instead on the sky while he ambled toward the corner. A chorus of discordant voices reached out to him, threatening to actually draw his attention. The crowd was excited for something that he couldn't make out, not that he was interested in whatever crazy bullshit a group of humans had gotten into.

Humans were creatures with a tragic habit of getting themselves into stupid and unfathomable situations. Bardock could empathize, to an extent. He'd been involved with a number of shits that hit the fan, but he was a problem solver. When he got himself into a mess, he picked himself up and got out of it. Humans were the type to stew in their misery and bask in their sorrow. They were born to be masochists.

"Fight me if you dale! If you win, you might just get a plizeru!"

The man's obnoxious accent bristled Bardock and it took everything in his power for him not to take the strange man up on his offer. Instead of obliging the stranger, he waded through the large crowd and worked his way into the center of a large, poorly formed circle. Bardock, at this point, made the fatal mistake of risking a glance at the man issuing the challenge.

Tall and weedy with a lean build, the stranger looked a lot like an action star, someone that he'd see on a movie screen or in a karate flick. He had shaggy black hair that was cut into a bowl around the rim of his head, and his teeth, although obscured by his puffy lips, were misshapen. A number of freckles lined his cheeks, but a steely reesorve-- er, resolve -- burned deep inside the man's eyes.

He was in peak physical condition, despite his shitty English and his ugly face. Bardock realized this the moment the man reached out for his face. He snatched the cigarette out from between Bardock's lips and slammed it down on the ground. All at once, something inside of Bardock snapped.

"If you can smoke, you can fighttu!"

The man did a shitty karate chop and unleashed a powerful kick into the air, seemingly content with his demonstration. The crowd cheered as Bardock glanced down at the remains of his cigarette on the ground, rage brewing in his chest and threatening to spill out of his throat all at once. If he didn't keep himself in check, he was going to slaughter an entire crowd of humans while the cameras on the streetlamps watched. He couldn't help but imagine their cheers as he bludgeoned half of the crowd to death with their own arms.

"Are you afraidu of fighting me, scarru-fasuu?"

Bardock didn't waste a breath on breaking the man's bravado. Instead, he lashed out and shattered the man's nose with a powerful punch. The man's body went careening back into the brick wall he'd based his little corner operation around, breaking through the mortar and falling limp on the other side amidst a heap of stone. A little cardboard sign fluttered to the ground from the spot it'd been hanging on atop what was left of the wall.

Bardock knelt down and picked it up, studying it with consternation, struggling to read the words written on the board and vaguely aware that he'd never bothered to learn how to write in English. It was infuriating to know that the dumbass he'd just laid out had something over him, so he tossed the scrap of cardboard to the ground and spit on it.

"You wanna ask me that again?" he growled. Slowly, the rage inside of his chest began to trickle out. With a sharp exhale, Bardock reached into his pocket and withdrew another cigarette from the carton in short order, still sort of pissed off that a human had managed to pretty much mug him in broad... nightlight, whatever. Before lighting the cigarette, he put it between his lips and hunched over the asian man's broken body. Grabbing him by the back of his moppy head, the Saiyan spoke again. "You mentioned some prize money, jackass?"

Feebly, the man pointed toward a hat on the rim of the giant circle of people. Bardock let go of the man's head and let him slump down into the pile, never to think about him again. Without another word, he reached for the little hat full of tinkling coins and counted them out in his head, thankful that zeni was a universal currency and that he wasn't going to have to learn any new shit. He shoved the money into his pocket, grumbling something about how it was probably more trouble than it was worth, and glanced back at the crowd.

"You look like you've got some concerns," he grumbled, cigarette still in his mouth. They'd stopped cheering for him once they realized that he wasn't just another money hungry scrub. "I'd call him an ambulance."

Bardock lit the cigarette between his lips with a snap of his fingers and inhaled.

"I've got some shit to do."

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Future Gohan
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The Northern Command was a few miles outside of North City. More like a large colony of tents than an actual Saiyan Base, Northern Command served its purpose as a place where the more undesirable soldiers assigned to guarding the Earth were sent and left to rot. Bardock, himself, was not exactly an undesirable, but he was the lowest ranking soldier assisting with the vanguard action. Most soldiers were at least second class or first class, but he was 3rd class. It was a bitter feeling, all things considered, and the anger kept him warm despite the frigid weather outside of the camp.

A number of soldiers greeted him as he touched down, and he nodded to them all in short order. They wore formalized armor, emblazoned with the Empire's emblem. Bardock respected it more than he did the men who wore it, and as such, liked to think that every nod he sent their way was instead sent to Vegeta instead of the plebs who were hardly strong enough to carry his training gear.

Once again, he was forced to remind himself that he was a low-class warrior in name only. Once, he'd worn the title with pride. Now it was a source of scorn and ridicule. People valued his word less because of his ranking, something that he couldn't help but feel animosity toward. His strength was more than enough to eradicate most of the standing army on the planet. He could only think of one or two humans with enough power to take him on, and he couldn't name either of them.

"Baddock, is that you?"

An engineer called out to him as he strode through the line of tents that constituted the border of the camp, earning his attention and distracting him. She was a comely looking thing, not fit for combat and too ugly to be a breeder. Much like Gine, she was one of the workers in the back of the line, who kept the army moving when large war efforts stalled. Then again, Gine didn't look like a burned up telephone pole. She was at least decent looking... something that the engineer, named Reberee couldn't say.

"Yeah. What did the Captain need me for? If this is some stupid bullshit about getting him groceries again, I'll fuckin' kill him right now."

Bardock finally plucked the burnt cigarette out from between his lips and tossed it down into the snow, where it fizzled out with a lame hiss.

"And my name isn't Baddock. It's Bardock," he grumbled, following the engineer as she led the way toward the captain's tent. He still wasn't used to the layout of the camp, having only been there for a day. The fact that the Captain had already asked him to get his fucking grocieres resurfaced, and Bardock was forced to bury a wrathful, murderous rage deep down inside of him. A psychologist would've told him it was unhealthy, and Bardock would've told him to go fuck himself. "So what does Tucce want me for?"

"Dunno," the dark skinned gypsy bitch replied. "He wouldn't tell me a damn thing."

Bardock was tempted to call her bluff, but decided to hold his tongue. She hadn't done anything to earn his hire, unlike the lucky streetfighter wannabe that he'd knocked on his ass in North City. Besides that, Reberee actually had her uses. Unusually quick and intelligent for a Saiyan, she was a great urban planner and had actually designed the layout for the camp. Of course, he'd been taking her word for that. Every Saiyan, no matter how intelligent, had a horrible habit of boasting way more than they should have.

Saiyans poked their heads out to watch him stride through the camp, head held tall with pride and even more unusual, dignity. His battle armor, a sleek, green and black version of the same armor the others wore (minus the shoulder pads), was scuffed and scarred from years of combat. The suit had served him well, and in ten years with it, he'd never managed to break the damn thing. Most opponents he had the misfortune of crushing weren't worth his time.

"Baddack," Bardock heard the Captain say as he ducked inside of the tent. "Glad you're still with us."

Tucce slapped Bardock on the back (forcing a wave of red to wash over the Saiyan's cheeks, more from disdain than anything else) and led him further inside, leaving Reberee to make her nondescript exit from the tent. A table lingered in the center of the room, aglow with a holographic representation of the Earth. Bardock recognized a few of the landmarks he'd passed, but the location names, North City excluded, were all foreign to him.

He assumed that West City was in the West (it was actually in the East) and that East City was in the East (it was actually in the West), but otherwise, he couldn't hazard many guesses. He saw "Sasebo" across the bottom of the screen, with a little red 'x' next to it. He could only assume that it was ravaged during the war he'd heard so much about. He'd, unfortunately, slept through most of it.

"What is it you wanted, Tucce?" Bardock grunted.

"Yesterday, I told you that we might have use for someone of your... talents," Tucce replied. To Bardock, it was obvious that he was trying to avoid calling Bardock strong. Tucce's power level was only around a hundred-seventy thousand, which was fifty-thousand lower than Bardock's own. Bardock didn't bother commenting on it, since it would have accomplished nothing, but he could see the faint stirrings of hostility deep within Tucce's black eyes.

"It's become obvious that I wasn't lying. A lab in the Western Mountains has been discovered, and according to command, it's a former Legion base. We don't want to send anyone significant in there, and with your abilities, you should be capable of checking out an abandoned military research facility."

Bardock kept his arms crossed over his chest and eyeballed Captain Tucce with as blank an expression as he could manage, which ended up being something halfway between a scowl and a grimace.

"Yeah, I can handle that."

He let his confirmation hang in the air. Tucce, clearly disgruntled, merely nodded. It was obvious that he didn't relish meeting with Bardock. Bardock, on the other hand, was delighted that someone found his presence so revolting.

"Can you forward a map to my scouter with the coordinates? Or am I just going to waste my time flying around the mountains for a few hours trying to find this place?"

"I'll have someone send yoiu the coordinates tonight so that you can get an early start. We don't think anything's left over there, but we would appreciate any useful technology discovered in the facility. We also would regret losing a number of men to automated security systems. You know how it is," Tucce said.

Finally, Bardock nodded.

"That works out. Is there anything in particular I should be looking for? I'm not a scavenger. I don't hunt for this kind of shit regularly," he admitted. Tucce immediately drew up a few schematics on the holo screen above the table. Bardock watched as a myriad of devices spun and rotated in front of him... none of which he recognized.

"Sure. I'll just grab all the shit I can carry then."

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Future Gohan
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The Silverback Mountains were vast and widespread, stretching over the Western half of the continent and separating the Great Desert from the Northern Plains. Bardock stood at the base of a particularly large peak, wearing a set of thin, black and green battle armor. Red wristbands covered his forearms and the bottoms of his legs, obscuring the tops of his boots and dried by the sun. It was obvious, to any careful observer, that they hadn’t always been red.

His fists were clenched in what most would’ve mistaken for concern and hung low at his waist, ready to spring up in defense should he encounter whatever creature left the front door to a Legion base ajar. The massive double doors, made of durasteel and titanium, were wide open when he’d arrived. This would not have typically bothered him, but the reports he’d been given by Earth’s Command informed him that the base had never been activated. There were no Legion left; in fact, he was only there in order to investigate the remains of the place for any useful technology.

Bardock cocked his wrist and lifted it up so that it lingered over his chest. Sparks of azure flame wrapped themselves around his fingertips and coagulated into a single crackling mass, which acted like a torch while he persevered into the laboratory’s interior. Above the entryway, a lone symbol, one he didn’t recognize, lingered.

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What mind had been behind all this? All the suffering his world had endured created solely by one man. Dr. Gero had been a scientist for the Red Ribbon Army. When it was destroyed, he swore vengeance. Years later he would go on to create two androids, #17 and #18. These two monsters had practically brought the end of the world in his time. He had to know if they were destroyed in this time. If they were in tact then this new world he’d discovered maybe in grave danger unknowingly.

He wasn’t strong enough to defeat the androids if they were active and he knew that, but he had to discover whether or not they were. It was possible that no one in this world besides himself even knew the location of Gero’s Lab, let alone what was possibly held inside it. It seemed like he’d been reviewing different research information for hours now, but almost none of it related to the androids. He saw a few references to something called ‘The Cell Project’, plans for a gas-powered microwave, and extensive research on some of what appeared to be this universe’s strongest warriors or at least those at whatever time this research was conducted. That was another thing, numbers were scattered all through the papers, but not one was dated.

They were here. There were several pods that Trunks assumed to contain androids, however the glass had darkened and become impossible to see through over time. The pods were too untouched, like they’d never been opened. They could be empty, but Trunks knew they weren’t. He was reminded of the dread from his future, seeing those pods made him feel a similar way. He’d decided not to touch them until he had no other option. If there were androids in there, he didn’t wanna let them out.

He brushed his hands through his hair and sighed briefly before continuing to pour through research notes. He had allowed his investigation to claim his attention so much that he didn’t even notice the power coming through the entrance of the Lab.

WC: 350
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Bardock continued onward through the laboratory’s innards for what felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Slowly, the darkness that consumed the entryway gave way to a road of lights that led into a larger chamber, which housed a number of strange devices that the Saiyan had never seen before. Some of them were reminiscent of rejuvenation chambers, while others were completely foreign and laden with different machinery. He was not exactly a technological novice, but for the most part, he was completely lost. The idea that he’d only been sent to the lab for busywork while command figured out what to do with him only found itself more reinforcement.

After a few more minutes of stalking through the lab, Bardock noticed a hunched figure in the distance. With a length of moppy looking hair, the stranger appeared to be looking through something atop a table, which Bardock could only imagine to be research notes or technological summaries. He didn’t know much about labs, but he did know how the labby-types worked. He’d once worked on a short-lived research project in the past himself, on how to maximize blutz wave efficiency. Thanks to some quick genius on his part, it’d ended up working.

However, he could only assume that the stranger didn’t know anything about blutz waves or Saiyan transformations.

Bardock’s tail tightened around his waist while he approached from behind, finally entering the rear half of the lab. The types of products changed drastically, and now Bardock could see a number of strange pods lingering around the perimeter of the place. He couldn’t see any labels, but he could only imagine that they were deactivated Legionnaires.

“Tch.”

Bardock’s guttural grunt sounded like a gun firing in the hall of a grand hotel, silencing the little beeps and boops of nearby equipment and probably startling his new acquaintance. Then, with a noncommittal jerk of the thumb, he gestured toward a pool of black blood on the floor.

“Come here often? Or is that someone else’s blood on the floor?”

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toxicoutcast
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The half saiyan hadn’t been the only one to notice the signs of a minor battle within the lab. Whatever had occurred was completely irrelevant now however.Trunks straightened his back before turning his head to see who he’d foolishly allowed to find him. He should have sensed him long before now. He should’ve been more aware of his surroundings, it was too late and now this stranger had gotten the jump on him. Who could he be? He almost seemed to bear a slight resemblance to Gohan, but that couldn’t be. This man didn’t seem like he was Goku either. He couldn’t be an android because Trunks could sense his power.

”Who are you?”

Trunks responded. He allowed the question to sit in the air between them so that it could soak in for a few minutes before following up.

”Do you work for Dr. Gero?”

It seemed the only logical conclusion, no one else could know about this place, but from the signs it did seem like others had been here. The idea seemed more likely the more he ran it through his mind. Slowly Trunks began to clench his fists and raise his power level in a slight burst. Anyone who worked for Gero are just as guilty as he and the androids. He couldn’t allow their crimes to go unpunished, not after seeing the results in his time.

WC: 231
TWC: 581
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Future Gohan
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Bardock watched as the youth turned to face him, fearless, yet apprehensive. It was the natural reaction to have. The Saiyan reached for his pocket with his free hand and slowly pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He plucked a lonely tube of tobacco out from one of the three that he had left and put it between his lips, having ignited it with the tips of his fingers while pulling it free of the carton. As the boy’s words echoed across the lab, Bardock placed the little container back in his pocket and took a long drag.

”My name is Bardock,” he said.

”I don’t know who this Gero is, but if you’re the one who’s been maintaining this lab, it looks like I’ve got some business with you.”

The blue flames baying at Bardock’s wrist licked along the length of his arm and slowly stretched out over the rest of his body, consuming his armor and glittering against the darkness of the lab behind him. Expressionless, he extended his hand toward the stranger and unleashed a pulse of crackling energy at the man’s chest. Were it to make contact, it would undoubtedly explode.

”If you’re not the one keeping this place going, then it looks like you’re the proud owner of a dozen oopsie-daisies. Either way, it doesn’t matter much to me.”

Another pair of pulses were discharged into the gap between them, spiraling toward the stranger’s body like brush strokes forged by a heavy handed god. They illuminated the lab and their residue jittered down the length of Bardock’s outstretched arm in the form of fierce recoil. It’d been awhile since his last fight, something that he and the lab didn’t seem to have in common.

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What had the man said? Trunks had completely forgotten as the smoke from the blast washed over him. He had shielded his chest with his arms only moments before it made contact. The blast still singed his arms with the burn of failure. He had allowed the enemy to make the first move, he couldn't allow them advantages like that. He wouldn't allow them. The man continued to speak before launching two more balls of energy, but the words rang silent to the son of the future's ears. He heard only the battle. He could see only the battle. In this now completely focused state of mind, he swiftly slung his right arm followed by his left arm both in diagonal patterns deflecting the energy to the ground below him.

He was swallowed by a cloud of smoke, but this was his only option. The blasts couldn't be allowed to pass him and possibly damage what may have been the only thing standing between the androids and this world. Besides he could take the blasts because he had to.

"I've not been running this lab and nothing here belongs to me."

Trunks memory had returned to him in the brief pause of the battle and he took this time to clear up the situation.

"What I am is sorry to disappoint you because I'm a man who can't fail here."

Trunks felt the hilt of his blade. It felt so good to be unsheathing it that his stance was almost comfortable. The cigarette smoking saiyan may not have had time to analyze this stance however, as Trunks rushed forward in a pounce, from deep within the thick layers of smoke, slicing with his blade twice horizontally before tieing in an overarching vertical slice. The satisfaction he felt made him feel what he imagined performers did. All of his training paying off in one showing of his skills. He almost grinned, but he couldn't.

WC: 323
TWC: 904
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One of Bardock's blasts hit home, but the others were slapped to the ground beside his new opponent's ankles. Tiny tufts of smoke rolled off of the ground and drifted away into the back of the lab, but failed to damage any equipment. Privately, he supposed that was for the best. He wasn't there to blow shit up, anyway. He was gathering whatever residual technology that he could find. With that in mind, Bardock made a mental note not to sling as many blasts around as usual. He didn't need to get bitched at for blowing shit up that was important.

The smoke pooled together around his opponent, shrouding him from view and filling the back of the lab with a viscous carpet of inscrutability. Bardock's hand was halfway to his scouter when the other man's voice rang out, loud and clear, through the cloud of smog.

"I've not been running this lab and nothing here belongs to me. What I am, is sorry to disappoint you because I'm a man who can't fail here."

There was an urgency to the boy's words that Bardock recognized all too well, and his body immediately went on full alert. Something was going to be coming soon, born of desperation and excitement; he would not be caught off guard by it.

The youth came flying out of the clearing cloud with his sword drawn. It glittered and shone beneath the lights, tracked intently by the Saiyan's glowing eyes. Bardock hopped backward once to avoid the first blow, and faded from view just as the second would have ripped through his abdomen. He materialized a few feet back from where he'd been standing, arms bent at his sides in preparation for whatever was going to come next.

To his surprise, the boy's blade was already coming down for round two. Bardock swayed to the left, but the sword's edge beheaded his cigarette; somehow, he felt like that was more horrifying than if he'd have just taken the swing full on. He spat the tube of tobacco and stepped in close to the boy's guard, aware that utilizing his sword at ultra close range would have been difficult. He had experience fighting weapon users; in fact, the scar on his face was a byproduct of being stabbed through the cheek by a diamond blade.

"Disappointment was a good choice of words, kid," he grumbled, all too aware that his cigarettes had been super fucking expensive. "Disappoint, whatever. Same thing."

Bardock picked at the boy's ankle with his left leg in an attempt to leave him off balance. Then, with a powerful, decisive swing of his right hand, he fired off at the boy's face and sought to smash him into the fucking ground. Lightning trailed off of his knuckles and threatened to explode on contact, ready to send the boy into the sublevel below the main floor.

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