Little Liixan in the Big City

[Archer]

Esperanza; The City of Hope. A glistening metropolis, an oasis in the desert that is Nasrad. Even since the hostile takeover from the Saiyan menace, the city was probably the first to fully recover, and is now a thriving home to thousands. The day was glorious, shards of light bouncing off the glass windows that lined every skyscraper. The city almost looked aflame; which most certainly reflected the citizens moods. The entire city was buzzing with excitement and anticipation; The latest World Tournament was about to begin.

Fighters from all corners of the globe were arriving in their drones, just for a chance to participate. Many were being turned down at the doors; some people were just not good enough, and the company wanted to prevent as many injuries, or even fatalities, as they could. But still, competitors were being accepted none the less, aiming for the title of Champion of Champions.

And Kilix Gyro was but one of these competitors. And currently, he was doing something he despised. Queuing. He was currently in a line, which stretch through three alleyways of Esperanza before reaching the Tournament Sign-up office, standing behind a large, relatively flabby man with bad body odour. Which, due to his advanced Liixan senses, Kilix was getting the full brunt of.
”I hate queues…” he muttered.


KGB, Kilix’ robotic assistant, had made his own plans. Kilix had allowed him to go exploring in the city for a while, whilst Kilix was stuck in that infernal queue. Currently, the small robot was meandering his way between the legs of the cities residents down a busy street. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, he was just looking, in general.

He turned the next corner into a smaller section of the road. It seemed to be pedestrianised, as people of all races were stretched out across the entire street, looking at the stalls and bazaars. KGB had found Esperanza’s Marketplace. His artificial eyes welled with excitement, as he darted off towards each individual stall, clambering up to the tabletops and scouring through the cheap, mostly unwanted merchandise.

But then he saw her. She was perfect, sitting on the other side of the stall, taunting him to come closer. Her curves were perfect, not too much but just enough, KGB couldn’t take his eyes away. The light seemed to add to her beauty, amplifying her features just enough. That seductive red glow and that cheeky noise she made, raising her arm, beckoning him closer. KGB couldn’t resist…

“Ahh, I see you like the T.A.R.A, good sir!” said a porty man; the owner of the stall. KGB’s head didn’t move, but his mouth did, just. ”Tara…” he muttered, his voice laced with intoxication, ”Whassit mean?”
“Toasting. And. Retoasting. Appliance!” said the man proudly, “The latest in Toasting mechanisms all around the world.”

But KGB had stopped listening at this point. He was moving slowly across the table, in a sort of trance. He stopped short of T.A.R.A., fidgeting nervously on the spot. He fingered at the button on his chest, drawing his internal storage open and pulling out a small white cloth. He rubbed it franticly against his forehead, before pulling it away and replacing it. Sighing in anticipation, he turned back to her.
”Hey Darlin’,” he muttered unconfidently, ”How you doin’?”

Behind him, a small child walked up to the desk. He was about 10 years old, with the sort of round face that depicts complete innocence. He looked around the stall for a moment, until his eyes fixed on something. They filled with joy, and he immediately turned to the businessman.
“How much for the cool backpack!” he said, his voice high pitched and filled with excitement.
“Uhh…” the man said, pretending to think for a moment, even though he knew his answer full well, “That backpack there? @ 5.”

The boy almost squealed, slamming five Dragonian credits onto the table, and picking up his prize. KGB went mental.
”Hey, kid, get off me, I’m not a backpack, let me go!” he screamed, robotic limbs flailing about to escape the boy’s grasp.
“Wow,” the child said, “A talking backpack! Coooool!!”
”TARA,” KGB screamed, unable to break free, ”TARAAAAAAAAAA…”


In the queue, Kilix looked around. ”Anyone seen my robot? he said, to no-one in particular. He had only progressed about 50 meters in the last half hour, and KGB was meant to meet him here twenty minutes ago.
”Strange… he muttered. However, he wasn’t going to let anything get him down. His new additions to his equipment had taken straight away, and with Rizuk’s Dragonblade on his hip, he felt as if he could take on the world.

Which, Ironically, is what he’d be doing.

[Jimmy Claymore]

"Oi, Furball" Rizuk strolled up to besides Kilix and extended his fist so it could be punched
"Good to see you, I see you didn't die so I owe some dude @5 now, but I'm not that bothered now. I see you have my sword" Snatching it up he slammed the sword back into his arm with a squelch and it slid into place with a horrible noise like a snap. He shook it out and folded his arms
"Arright, tell me, How did the battle end? I sorta missed it..."

Rizuk had woken up to a decimated landscape, far down Bedoe it was a rocky area with sharp jagged rocks and water dripping down, he'd fallen through roof and was laying on gravel and snow. He got up and shook his head to clear it. Not pleasent. He staggered loosely towards the entrance and walked out into some rocky landscape. He staggered down it and made his way to a place to heal, he'd get going later...

And he'd wound up in Esperanza to watch the Tournement. And had met Kilix with his sword, not Falkan as he though it would be.

[Archer]

As if the queue wasn't enough to drive Kilix to the brink of near insanity, something else was soon about to push him over the edge.
"Oi, Fuzzball!"
Kilix physically winced as he heard the Dragon's nickname for him, but through the shallow hatred for the man's foolish nicknames, he was glad. He hadn't known if Rizuk had escaped the battle alive, and hearing the annoying reptiles voice was a relief.

"I thought we had a deal, Scales," Kilix grinned, extending a fist to meet Rizuk's own, "and since when have you been making bets on my safety?" The question didn't seem to warrant a response, as Rizuk simply snatched his blade back off his belt.

"Arright, tell me, How did the battle end? I sorta missed it..." Rizuk continued to say, after trusting his blade back into his arm, where it belonged. Rizuk looked him in the eyes, whilst swiping specs of Dragon Blood off his armour.
"Turns out that little attack of yours really made the difference," Kilix explained, "The Saiyans held it off for a bit, but it got them in the end. Turns out you saved, Dragonia."

He looked forlornly down the queue again, noticing that it had moved forwards a few feet since he last noticed. Walking a few steps to catch up with the rest of the line, he turned back to Rizuk for a moment.
"Arn't you entering the tournament? Seems like your sort of scene...

[Garoten Reklor]

From a rooftop a few blocks away, Falkan silently eyed the long sign-up line for the tournament.

That's just not worth it...

The survivors of the Saiyan invasion force had been quicker than he'd expected. In the few moments he had spared to honor the dead among the Dragonian forces, most of them had escaped handily. A few stragglers had met their fate at the Warrior of Reval's hands, but the bulk of the force was long gone...but not that long. Vi'drek had been well obedient to a whispered command from his master, given in the thick of the battle, and many of the Saiyan's spaceships had been destroyed. That meant they couldn't all have escaped Dragonia...and that meant they could still be punished. The problem was finding them, especially the ranking officers among them. After days of searching, Falkan had finally taken a little time to learn more about the tailed warrior race. His study had been revealing.

The Saiyan culture was one of warriors, not unlike V'alcan culture in its heyday - before they decided war was undesirable. An especially intriguing aspect of the Saiyan mindset was an emphasis on challenge, battle, pushing oneself against more and more powerful opponents...much like one might do in a tournament.

On his own, Falkan Reval wouldn't be anywhere near such a pointless endeavor as a world fighting tournament. His skill in battle spoke for itself, there was no reason to go about proving himself in meaningless battles for sheer entertainment's sake. In his eyes, with no real danger, nothing life or death on the line, there was no real fight. It was just a show.

But to the Saiyan mind, any challenge was enough to merit a fight. And if the Saiyan invaders stranded on Dragonia were interested in the tournament, then so was Falkan. Justice, whether the mob of empty-headed spectators were aware of it or not, was a worthy cause for battle.

So he scanned the line again. He hadn't seen any Saiyans specifically sign up, but that didn't meant they weren't there. In fact, they would have to be. After a sigh and a moment's contemplation of the foolishness into which he was about to be immersed, Reval leaped off the rooftop and spanned the several block distance between his perch and the long queue in a flash. However, he didn't land at the back of the line. He was aiming more for the front. About three people from the desk, to be precise.

"Excuse me."

The massive lizard-like creature third in line, Momat by name, turned slowly to see who was talking to him. There was no one. He blinked stupidly and turned forward again.

"Hey, you. Slimy."

The giant turned around, this time a little agitated, and growled..still no one...

"Down here, smart guy."

Eight feet, eye level for the green fellow, was a bit over Falkan's head...about two and a half feet over. The large, vacant eyes of the creature slowly wandered downward, until they met with a pair of brown eyes gleaming out from under a hood. He grunted an acknowledgment to the small man.

"I'm gonna do you a favor."

Falkan subtly slipped the toe of his boot over the clawed foot of the monster and, without warning, slammed it down on Momat's foot. He roared with surprise...but none of the other would-be contestants paid any attention.

"I'll get off your foot if you let me slip in front of you here." Falkan offered with mock nobility.

Momat's reaction was not unexpected. He had been waiting in this line for eighteen hours, and he wasn't about to give up even a second to this pathetic excuse for a warrior. He swung a blow that would normally send such an insignificantly small creature into orbit...but was surprised again when the pain in his foot was compounded by the sensation of his little claw on the left hand being pulled backward...by the little man himself! The small fighter smiled and shook his head, then gestured backward with his free hand. Momat wincingly nodded agreement, then breathed a sigh of relief when his claw and foot were let go.

"Why thank you. I knew you looked like the obliging type. If you'll just step back about a foot, that should do."

It wasn't by chance that Falkan had chosen this particular creature to pick on. The largest in the long queue by far, Momat's backward movement went completely unhindered. The Dragonian man behind the giant started to protest, but a glare from Momat calmed him down. While the rest of the line scrambled to move backward or risk falling like a line of dominoes, Reval stepped into the third spot and smiled.

If that particular 'champion' is any standard, this won't be difficult at all.

[Archer]

Before Rizuk had time to answer, there was a disturbance at the front of the line. Kilix's glance shot down the queue, as a reptilian cry pierced the city. Moments later, a giant, lizard-like warrior was thrown down the queue, knocking potential contestants down left, right and center.

A thought flickered in Kilix's mind, and a grin tickled his lips. He turned to Rizuk, and gave him a wink.
"Back in a moment," he said, and dissapeared in a flicker of light.

Down at the front of the queue, if he was listening, Falkan would hear a familiar voice.
"Yes, I'd like to sign up for the Tournament please. Name's Kilix Gyro." The assistant pointed towards a small booth, and Kilix began to walk over towards it.

"Thanks for the distraction, old friend," he said to Falkan, a chuckle in his voice.

[Jimmy Claymore]

"Hey, I had good odds on the Saiyans, can't blame me for trying" He looked down at the reptile on the floor and said with a derisive sigh
"You bring shame on our genus, idiot" before kicking him with his shoe as he re-adjusted his attention to his old friends. Rizuk watched Kilix move on and Falkan standing near the beginning of the que, Kilix was ging to sign up and it would be better to follow him. He nodded at Falkan as he passed and waved his arm as a kind of thanks for giving him back his fore-arm bone. He walked up behind Kilix and leaned over his friends head
"And could you sign up, Mr Jimmy Claymore as well"
"Is that your name sir?" The receptionist inquired politely, Rizuk sneered and said derisively
"No, of course not" He walked away grinning and waved his hand to the Liixan
"Later Gyro, I gotta go work out how I'm going to get this Demon Kid to his match without him escaping" Leaving everyone in confusion Rizuk set off for the Cafe again to try and get more Peach Smoothies. He leaned in through the cafes open doors and silently liberated one from the desk before walking off towards an electronic store. Oddly, he passed some kid with a weird back-pack but shurgged and conmtinued on his way. If Kilix or Falkan wanted him they'd know where he was.

[Archer]

A few moments after entering the booth, Kilix left it again. It appeared to be fizzing slightly from the back.

"I think that's more than enough, Mr. Gyro," said the assistant, just as politely as she had addressed Rizuk. Kilix watched as the Dragon boy left, before turning his attention back to the assistant.
"Do me a favour," he said curtiously, "Whatever that man just asked you to do, please do it."

Looking slightly worried, the woman scribbled some notes down on a peice of paper, before turning to the next potential competetor. Kilix turned away from the desk, and walked towards the V'alcan who appeared to be causing all the trouble.

"Trust you to be causing a riot, Falkan," he joked, adressing the warrior directly, if with his head tilted to meet the warrior's eyes, "Entering the tournament?"

[hakuto]

While these fighters all talked amungst each other, allies and friends before enemies, there was one man...or rather one android who saw it the other way around. A figure cloaked entirely in black suddenly appeared near the lineup. His cloak only swayed through his movements, its massive weight keeping it from swaying in any wind. Hakuto walked forward, not bothering to enter the line until the front. All of the people in the line murmured amungst one another as this dark figure passed by. For those brave enough to look upon him, they would only see his peircing red eyes through the darkness.

There was no doubt the likes of Rizuk, Kilix and Falkan knew who this was, but for the rest of the fighters here he might not be so familiar. Nevertheless, Hakuto eventually stepped into line to sign up for the tournament, right at the front of the line. The Dragonian behind Hakuto seemed to start to protest this, but suddenly collapsed, holding his head, apparently paralyzed in pain. After this, no one dared to even think of Hakuto not being the first in line. The receptionist was scared, to say the least, as this cloaked figure walked up to the desk.

Sign up Hakuto Inuneo for the tournament.

The receptionist nodded as Hakuto smirked underneath his cloak and turned to face the other fighters.

Good luck boys...you'll need it.

With that, Hakuto walked right past them.

[Garoten Reklor]

Falkan glared at the arrogance with which Hakuto conducted himself, but refrained from taking any action. Grudges would be settled in the ring soon enough. Finally it was his turn.

"Falkan Reval."

The overweight man whose shift it was at the sign-up booth glanced up at the speaker and scoffed.

"Another black cloak? What, you guys think you're scaring anyone?"

Falkan smiled politely at the man's sarcasm, then reached up, caught the massive arm of the reptile behind him, and tossed him aside like so much wadded up newspaper. The attendant raised an eyebrow and swallowed hard.

"Right...so was that 'Falkan' with an E or an O?'

Momat, who had been hoping to sneak in a little vengeance-blow to the short man who had humiliated him, found himself tangled up with another group of people who were gathered to one side. By the time he had gotten to his feet and collected his wits, not onle was the cloaked stranger gone, but his place in line was closed up. With a defeated groan, he lumbered down the streets looking for the back of the line, and hoping against hope he never had to face that man in the ring.

A few blocks from the tournament, Falkan was settled into the shadows of a nearby alleyway to watch for any Saiyan warriors that came along.