Dragon Ball: Forgotten Generations (IC)

Cheetu followed Vanessa's scent ever downward. Despite being a creature of the plains and the great outdoors, he had no problems being underground in the semi dark. Like most cats his vision was excellent and he did not have much difficulty seeing in the tunnels. What he could not see, he heard and smelt, so he had a very good idea of what was going on down here.

He heard the one called Crim following behind him at a slower pace, while Grisha and Flute seemed to have made up their minds to follow them as well. He smiled as he heard the big warrior stomping after them. He was glad he was going to get to meet them both again.

He himself was having no troubles following Vanessa's scent trail and could have already caught up to her, but he decided to take it easy and explore the place a little. Every so often the way would be illuminated by a stray light and he would see more details of his surroundings, but he pressed on quickly. It seemed like some tunnels had been dug between existing tunnels, to create a vast network of interlocking tunnels. It was very impressive and would be easy to get lost in if you didn't know the way.

Cheetu found Vanessa's scent getting stronger and soon he came to a huge cavern that was well lit. Her scent filled the air and he guessed he had arrived at his destination. He slowed to a walk and casually moved inside looking around, trying to spot her and a good spot to sit.

Crim had been mistaken, he'd thought the light at the end of the tunnel had been an exit but at least it opened into a much less claustrophobic chamber. "So, just encase of fire where are the exits located? Because obviously going back the way we came isn't REALLY an option for any of us."

The Closer You Are To Danger... The Closer You Are To Harm

"They're coming."

Vanessa, out of habit, patted her legs in search of a light, and then remembered she had none left. She huffed, and then actually smiled when Vincent held one out for her.

"Where were you keeping that, huh?"

"Safe."

Vanessa placed the cigarette in her lips, and then, out of habit once again, began searching for a lighter. If she'd one on her during her bout with Cheetu, it would have surely broken open. Once more she turned her head to Vincent, who was holding out a lighter for her in his other hand.

"So, just encase of fire where are the exits located? Because obviously going back the way we came isn't REALLY an option for any of us."

Vanessa finished lighting her cigarette and the exposed tip glowed red as she breathed in and relished the taste of the dried tobacco leaves. Some of the smoke escaped from her nose, and although she wasn't particularly bothered by the slight burning sensation she felt in her nostrils, she nonetheless blew the rest out of her mouth.

More than a few had followed Vanessa and her crew into the winding underground tunnels, and, not surprisingly, needed help finding the right exits.

After taking another hit from her cigarette, Vanessa walked over to one of the adjacent tunnel openings, and while it initially led further down, she noted that it would eventually lead back up to the surface. She then pointed towards a second tunnel, and noted that it would also lead up the surface, but it was a much... fouler means of getting there.

"Don't take this one over here," Vanessa said. "You could, but you'll end up right next to one of the police stations."

She didn't know if any of them would ever cross paths again, but fate had a way of bringing people back together... fighters even more so.

HotCider said:

Flute was lucky that Grisha wasn’t entirely simple for if he hadn’t been blessed with a good sense of smell, then he might have freaked out when she took his hand and sent her and his fist straight through one of the walls. The Saiyan instead gently grasped her small hand firmly in his larger one, and when she asked if he could find the group from before, she would experience Grisha’s slight arrogance for the first time.

Click to expand...

...Flute was lucky, certainly. She was durable, but Grisha's sheer physical might could easily overwhelm her if she wasn't prepared for it. But she trusted him. She trusted the goodness in him, at his core, the heart that beat in his tank-armor chest.

And it wasn't, with all due fairness, the first time she'd experienced his arrogance. The first time they'd met had been almost entirely because of his furious disdainful impatience with the perceived uselessness of others.

But what came out of his mouth next was a different flavor of that. Flute saw it as being a more productive confidence. He knew his stank, so to speak, and he would turn that to their advantage.

HotCider said:

“Heh, Grisha smell everything,” he answered. “Smell no always good. Sometimes stinky. Grisha find stinky friends.”

Click to expand...

Admittedly, it was a case of the pot calling the kettle smelly, but it got the job done!

...it occurred to Flute to wonder what she smelled like to him. She hoped her scent didn't bother him!

But after only moments passed:

HotCider said:

“Grisha found!” he informed Flute before he took off like a hound dog.

His pursuit hadn’t at all been stealthy as his footsteps seemed to stomp through the tunnel sounding as though a herd of bulls had been released. He was still holding onto Flute’s hand, dragging her along in his rampage. He was eager to get out of the cramped and dark space. He didn’t like it!

Click to expand...

The walls shook with his wooly-mammoth footfalls, and Flute considered them fortunate that the amplitude of his impetus didn't bring parts of the roof down on them.

But she was quick, and she was able to keep pace fairly easily as he towed her along...

...and after only moments they stepped into a subtly-lit cavern where Vanessa added to the olfactory trail with a chiaroscuro waft of cigarette smoke.

Crim, Cheetu, Vincent, Vanessa--

--the band, such as they were, were back together.

Flute beamed, waving cheerfully at each of them in turn, and patted Grisha gratefully on the forearm.

"Perfect!"

"Your tracking abilities are indeed formidable. Over bare rock in the dark. The greatest scouts and rangers in history would be so impressed!"

Smiling at everyone else, she bobbed her head with a bit of gratitude. "Thank you for tarrying on our behalf. I hope you didn't have to wait too too long!"

As Cheetu was about to thank Vanessa and be on his way he heard a stomping approaching. Actually he had been hearing it for some time but now he knew it was definitely coming this way.

He assumed a fighters crouch but then caught wind of what was coming and straightened up again. He was not surprised when both Flute and Grisha emerged into the small Cavern.

He smiled as she praised the big man's tracking abilities and then spoke to them all.

"Thank you for tarrying on our behalf. I hope you didn't have to wait too too long!"

Cheetu shook his head. It was true. he had only been here for about a minute and he assumed the big guy had moved very fast through the tunnels.

"Not at all dear lady. We have only been waiting for our host to point the way to the surface. I myself only arrived but a minute ago. It seems as if you and your companion made excellent time through the tunnels."

Turning to Vanessa he bowed his head to her and smiled. " I will not say goodbye to you. I have a feeling we will meet again, and I still want a rematch," he chuckled.

Moving towards the tunnel she had indicated he gave the rest of the people assembled in the cavern a small wave before turning and disappearing down it and into the gloom.

"Don't flatter yourself Emerald. Like he said we're less waiting and more trying to navigate our way out." He motioned towards the exist that Vanessa had already noted. "You and the big guy can't go that way, it's apparently right next to the police HQ but they don't know what the rest of u-" If he was planning on leaving he stopped when he noticed the thugs who'd followed him were less than subtly kicking at rocks and looking away. "-the rest of us would be honored to escort you to the nearest unobstructed exit.

He wasn't sure if he hated Vanessa right then, smoking in the caves just reminded him of how trapped he was. How tight it was. How something as stupid as some kids playing hopscotch overhead could bury him alive in tons of rubble. . .

Unconcerned upon the wall... the clock it ticks away the time.

Vanessa sat up in bed, and for a while all she could do was sit there in silence. A small ray of moonlight filtered in through the shades, and after a few minutes her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could make out the shape of her dresser, and as her eyes swept across the room she could start to make out the rest of the objects in her bedroom. Her alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed was dimly lit, and the illuminated glow of the numbers displayed on its front highlighted the small case that held her cigarettes.

After taking in a deep breath, Vanessa got up out of her bed to go walk out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. A light breeze had kicked up, but she managed to light one of her smokes and took in a few puffs to try and calm her nerves.

"Fuck me," she complained as she held the lit cigarette out in front of her, and then flicked it away in disgust.

3 o'clock.

The city wasn't asleep... it never slept.

And for the past few nights... neither could she.

Vanessa leaned on the railing with her arms crossed, and she watched the people down below go about their lives.

It the was the same the next night.

And the night after that.

It certainly hadn't taken long for Vincent to notice that was restless. He'd learned to give her some space, but he also knew that she'd need someone to talk to. And what's more... she'd cut back on her smoking. He found her out on the balcony, leaning on the railing as per usual. He came up behind her and wrapped one of his heavier shirts against her body, and Vanessa offered up the briefest of smiles as a way of saying thank you.

"I think I know what's bothering you," Vincent said.

"Hnn?"

"I think this city is finally starting to get the better of you."

Vanessa dropped her head and shook it back and forth as she let out a rather exhausted laugh.

"Yeah," she said after picking her head up.

"The tournaments... when? Tomorrow?"

Vanessa nodded her head.

"Maybe once its over we could skip town for a couple of days. I think the crew will be alright."

"Hmm," Vanessa hummed as she mulled the notion over in her head.

"You still haven't met my parents yet," Vincent added, drawing another exasperated laugh from his partner.

"That's exactly what I need."

"Come on. If not now, when?"

Vanessa let out a heavy sigh.

"Really? Meet the parents?"

"No dresses required," Vincent said.

Vanessa scoffed at the idea.

She certainly wasn't the dress-wearing type.

Vanessa shook her head again as the suggestion began to fester, and with one look Vincent could tell that she was starting to cave in to his idea. He wrapped one of his arms around her and hugged her close, then planted a kiss on the back of her head before encouraging her to come back to bed.

She hadn't gotten fired, perhaps surprisingly.

In fact, when she had turned herself in as a Person of Interest and let herself be subjected to questioning, Foggy had very unexpectedly turned up to make sure she wasn't railroaded.

Not only that, but the hard-on-his-luck lawyer had even, somehow, gotten ahold of cellphone footage of Flute saving that one dog-faced cop when he had been flung aside.

Flute had admitted, truthfully, that she had never seen Grisha before that day, and had only intervened to make sure no-one had gotten hurt. That he had only caused such a swath of destruction because he had been inconsolably worried about a loved one. She had not, however, answered truthfully when they asked her repeatedly if she knew where he had gone after that, or where he might be again in the future. (This had caused her inward pangs of guilt for telling untruths to people just trying to seek justice in their own way, and just trying to do their jobs, but at the same time-- Grisha had proven himself a man of honor by instinct and by inevitability, and she refused to impede his quest by putting the boys and beasts in blue back onto his trail. Besides, they'd only hurt themselves trying to catch him, she was doing them a favor.)

While the police had no great love for costumed power fighters right now-- an understatement to say the least --Foggy was, perhaps surprisingly, good at his job. They had suspended any charges pending further inquiry, though they had asked that Flute not leave town in case her testimony was required later.

That was okay. While Flute was a drifter by definition these days, right now East Haven was where she needed to be.

Like unto the Taoist concept of wu-wei, her being here was natural action-- she required very little effort to stay.

"Thank you for your help," she'd hesitantly, gratefully bowed to Foggy as they got in the cab to head back to the office. "We are still basically strangers. In the face of such controversy you would be well within your right to cut ties with me so as to not disgrace your firm."

Foggy had grinned faintly. "Yeah, well. You're a valued part of said firm. You saved my life the other day, and probably the lives of the people in my waiting room. Besides, if people know that a bad-ass like you is working for my little legal-defense team, they'll feel safer coming to me. And they'll know I'll go to bat for my clients no matter what. I couldn't buy publicity like that." He paused. "Seriously, I could not afford it. ...just, um, don't make a habit of stuff like this, okay?"

Flute had beamed right back at him. Maybe this had just been lawyerly spin, but she appreciated the optimism of it all the same.

So now, days later, she sat on the floor of the tiny ramshackle loft room she'd rented-- cash under the table --above an actually-not-bad hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant.

She wore the clothes that she had, eventually, bought to wear to work, and she meditated quietly in the Lotus position, her freshly-cleaned usual attire hanging on the wall.

She wanted to look presentable for the tournament tomorrow. (Happily, Foggy had not asked too many questions about why she'd needed the day and night off.)

Even if she would doubtless be all scruffed up by the end of it, she wanted to show up looking like she was ready to be her best.

She felt sure that she would see Grisha again there, and hoped to all the Heavens that he would have good news about Lena. She looked forward to rejoicing with him!

But for now.

She would clear her head.

And breathe.

And simply be.

Cheetu had been having fun. He had spent the first day he had emerged from the cavern exploring the city. It had not taken him that long to find all the places he had wanted to see and then he had visited each at a more leisurely pace.

The museums and parks here were excellent, as were the art galleries and he had wandered through them for hours, however he made it a point never to visit the zoo's. he found it disturbing to see animals cut off from their native homes.

Oh he knew why they were here and the benefits of having them. He had seen the good work zoo's did. It was just painful for him to behold, in much the same way as it was for a Mer creature to go to an Aquarium.

He spent his first night in a tree in a park sleeping rather comfortably. He had done this regularly on the plains and he found he saved a lot of money this way.

Early the next morning he set off to try to find some worthy opponents, but all he found was goons and lazy good for nothings.

he managed to stop several robberies and muggings, but none of them proved a challenge and he despaired of ever finding any other fighters of the caliber he had encountered before.

Then came news he had dreaded. Because of certain things that were happening the tournament was called off. He had despaired and returned to the park with a heavy heart that night.

The next day he was preparing to leave when he spotted more thugs in the park. They were doing nothing so he was going to leave them alone until one of them mentioned a tournament. He was on them like a flash asking for information.

It seemed like several fighters did not appreciate the tournament being scrapped and so had decided to hold one of their own. The rules would be slightly different of course as this would be non sanctioned and a underground tournament but Cheetu did not care. It was a chance to test his skills.

He found out the place and time and then sped off. Finding a quiet place in the city was not too hard. There were still places like the slum areas, and he retreated to them and began to train. This time he would not make the mistake of going easy again. He would fight at his full power straight away when facing strong opponents.

Now he sat looking at the stars happy with how his training had gone. Tomorrow was the tournament and he felt ready. he was sure the fighters he had journeyed with would be there and he was hoping the warrior Vanessa would make it. She still owed him a rematch.

Ode to Grisha

Grisha knew that he couldn’t stay with Flute for too long. She had a life and well he…he was still looking for his. Lena was still out there and he hadn’t stopped searching for her. Unfortunately, the humans hadn’t stopped searching for him either. Every day, it became harder and harder to evade them because of his size. His size made him easy to spot for there weren’t many—well, none in the current city—who had been taller than Grisha. He had to learn to stay above the heads of his pursuers and stay below the radar of the metal birds. Night was when he could hide best, but daylight…daylight was a pain.

The streets were crowded. Tourists from all around the country flocked to East Haven. Amidst the mob of humans and beastmen passing each other on the streets, there was much jostling and bumping of shoulders as they struggled to stay on the sidewalk. A boy struggling to keep up with his mother, peered up at her through wide, worried eyes as the crowd seemed to grow thicker and thicker around him. It was only until he felt his fingers slide from her hand that his heart skipped, and a wave of denizens closed around him.

“Mommy!” the boy cried.

He was forced into the opposite direction. He tried to push against the legs that kicked and pushed him further and further down the sidewalk.

“Mommy!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whimpering and sniffling echoed throughout the alley as a little boy wearing a red hoodie and blue jeans crouched before a dumpster with his hands curled against his eyes.

“Mommy; Mommy where are you?” he wept.

On the other side of the dumpster was a pile of newspapers, and beneath them, stirred a giant whose dark eyes opened groggily to stare down the opposite end of the alley. It was still daylight—probably mid-day by how bright the sun currently was. Grisha remained still and listened to the crying.

“Please find me Mommy. I’m scared.”

A lost child looking for his mother. Grisha couldn’t help but wonder if that was how Lena felt. As much as he wanted to keep his cover and return to sleep, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the kid. The newspapers stirred and the boy immediately stood, whirling to gaze wide-eyed at the giant that rose out of a mountain of newspapers. Grisha yawned and reached up in the air to stretch out his arms, popping the bones and tendons about his back and shoulders. With a low rumbling groan of relief, he dropped his arms and glanced over at the frozen and gawking kid. He had to have been the largest man he had ever seen!

“Grisha help find Mom,” Grisha told the boy.

The fear the boy had felt initially instantly turned to hope as he gazed up at the Saiyan.

“You will?” The boy then stepped back defensively. “Mommy always said never to trust strangers!”

Grisha frowned and wrinkled his nose at the kid. “Grisha no stranger. Grisha is Grisha.”

To a child that had been the most logical statement he had ever heard. The boy thought for a second and then nodded. “I guess…please help me find her!”

Grisha reached down and grasped the boy by his hoodie, his fingers curling the material into his massive fist. He then raised the boy before his face and sniffed him. Raising him higher, he placed the kid upon his shoulders as the boy grasped a hold of Grisha’s hair.

“Woah,” the boy gasped in amazement. He was so high up! “I might be able to see her from here!”

“Close,” Grisha informed. “Hold on.”

The giant was gentle and careful with the boy. He didn’t treat him like Flute and spring into the air. Grisha merely walked out of the alley into the broad daylight and stepped into the stream of tourists to their shock. Some were surprised to see such an immense man, while others were wary of getting in his way. As Grisha walked down the sidewalk, moving with the flow of traffic, he not only searched for the kid’s mother, but he also searched for the annoying men and women in uniform. It would only be moments before one was telling on him to their little box and then flashy lights and metal birds were all around him. He had just sacrificed his peace for this kid, but he was tired. He was tired of running and he wanted to know why the cops were pursuing him and what they planned to do with him. He had lost Lena and he had caused too many problems for Flute and the others.

When Grisha’s defeatist thoughts quieted, he heard something. His dark eyes glanced up and to the side as he heard laughter. The boy was laughing. He seemed to be enjoying himself on his shoulders, waving down at the people and raising his small fists into the air.

“Woohoo!”

Grisha couldn’t help but smile. Children were always interesting. They always found amusement in the smallest of things, and to hear such innocent laughter had actually put him in a better mood until another sound had filled the air…

The noise instantly put Grisha in a foul mood. Red and blue lamps flashed as a police car pulled up to the sidewalk and two cops quickly exited the vehicle, a blonde woman and a tiger. Leaning upon the vehicle door and over the hood of the car, they shouted for the crowd to get out of the way of the pistols they had pointed at the criminal they had been trying to catch all night and day.

“Get out of the way!” the tiger roared.

“Hey you! Stop!” the blonde shouted at Grisha.

The boy was staring curiously at the cops before he glanced over at Grisha. “Is she talking to us?”

Grisha’s lips drooped into a hard frown as he didn’t answer the kid, ignored the cops, and continued to persistently search for his mother. The cops scowled when they saw Grisha stride away from them. The tiger cop grabbed his radio and called it in, “This is Officer Tigris! We found the giant! Bring everybody. He has a little boy hostage!”

It wasn’t long before a chopper cut through the sky overhead with a rifleman sitting in the hatchway. A news chopper followed behind the police chopper, recording the breaking news.

“You’re seeing it live folks! The police have found the giant who terrorized the streets yesterday! He has taken a boy hostage to cover his escape!” exclaimed the reporter.

The tourists around the giant and the boy started to clear the streets, desperate to get out of the way of police. Several cops were chasing after Grisha on foot with their pistols aimed at the ground ahead of them.

“Stop!” they shouted.

“Put the boy down!” came a demand from the police chopper speaker.

“We’re looking for my Mommy!” the boy yelled.

There had been so much drama and hype about the supposed hostage situation. The news reported one thing, and the tourists were recording something different.

“The cops keep sayin’ that he’s trynna’ hurt the kid. But look at him! The kid doesn’t look hurt. He even said it himself. The big guy is helpin’ him look for his mom!”

“Cops harrassin’ that boy and giant!”

The journey finally came to an end when the boy’s mother stepped forth from the fleeing crowd to stand a few meters from Grisha. Grisha stopped.

“Kojiro!” the boy’s mother called.

“Mommy!” the boy exclaimed happily. “We found you!”

Kojiro’s mother stared up at Grisha apprehensively.

“Please, please give me back my child,” she begged.

Grisha reached a hand behind his head and immediately paused when a cop shouted, “Don’t move!”

Frowning, Grisha’s eyes darted to the corners of his sockets as he imagined the cop behind him with his gun drawn on him. Kojiro’s mother was frozen in fear for her child. Grisha was actually nervous for the kid too. If the cops tried to shoot him like they had before, then the kid could possibly get hit.

“Please, don’t shoot!” the mother pleaded.

Kojiro was scared. There were so many cops with their guns pointed at them.

“Move, slowly!” came the next command.

Grisha carefully grasped the kid and removed him from his shoulders. Kojiro’s mother crept forward as Grisha slowly brought the boy around in her direction.

I got a clear shot, said the rifleman.

Hold, his radio crackled. Wait for the boy to be returned.

The rifleman smirked. “Heh, I heard this big mother fucker can take some shots. He’s not gonna block this one.”

Kojiro’s mother held out her arms to welcome her son into them thankfully. Once she had him in her arms, she quickly fled without even rendering a thank you. Kojiro waved over his mother’s shoulder at Grisha when a loud gunshot cracked like lightning through the city. Strands and thin locks of Grisha’s black hair sparked from his head as his eyes immediately went white.

Kojiro screamed in horror when he saw Grisha’s legs buckle beneath him before the rest of his bulk collapsed across the sidewalk. His mother covered his eyes seconds too late. Cops rushed the body of the Saiyan, keeping their pistols drawn on him.

Officer Tigris stepped closer to Grisha’s neck and reached out with his paw to check his pulse. While he did so, he noticed that there hadn’t been any blood and he watched tumbling from the bald spot on the Saiyan’s head the condensed cylindrical shape of a .50 caliber round. The sight made the tiger’s fur puff as the round clattered upon the sidewalk. He had even felt a pulse from the giant—everyone missing the dizzied swirls that were in Grisha’s eyes.

Stepping back in shock, the officer whimpered in disbelief, “He’s-He’s not dead!”

“What?” the blonde officer exclaimed in shock.

“Let’s just apprehend him while we still have the chance,” came another officer.

“With what? Our cuffs don’t fit!”

“Use the zip ties!” the blonde officer ordered. “We’ll load him into the SWAT truck!”

It had sounded easy, but it hadn’t been, but the cops still managed to accomplish the mission no matter how many backs were thrown out trying to do it. The Saiyan had finally been captured and loaded into the back of the truck. On the way to the prison, the cops were trying to figure out what exactly to do with him. They had expected to have executed him on the street.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grisha had come to and was sitting naked in one of the holding rooms. They hadn’t meant to leave him naked, but they hadn’t expected to have such a big inmate. It wasn’t their first time having a large prisoner, but they didn’t have many super-sized jumpsuits on hand. It was when the giant was sitting naked in the middle of his empty and plaster-white cell that they noticed the strange fuzzy tail that flicked back and forth behind him. It had the prison guards confused. Was he a beastman or was he a human?

Gazing at the security cam, one prison guard muttered thoughtfully, “He’s like some…big ape.”

“Apes don’t have tails,” his partner enlightened.

“I know that but do you know a monkey that size?”

“I’m looking at one.”

“Oh, ha ha….you should do stand up.”

“So what do we do with him? Why’d the cops dump him on us?”

“They said their jail couldn’t accommodate him. They’re going to return with the paperwork.”

Just then, the warden stepped into the security office. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair and wearing a gray suit.

“Is this the new guy? I swear, when I heard about him, I thought the police had brought us King Kong.” He glanced at the screen and his bushy brows shot upwards. “Well, I’ll be damned. He does have a tail!”

“Sir, what do you want us to do with him?”

“Hm…let him shower. The police complained that he smelled like a dumpster. We should be able to find a jumpsuit big enough for a monkey of his size soon.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The warden continued to watch Grisha and his swaying tail, while the prison guards radioed down the report.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The showers had went from a pleasant place to a place of terror in less than a second. Several prisoners were huddled in the corner, using the showers closest to the wall to get away from the new inmate. The guy was enormous and what had scared them even more was his mysterious tail and his lack of shower sandals.

The next inmate to step into the shower was cradling his shower caddy and staring at the last shower that had just so happened to be next to the giant. Fuck! Creeping into the shower, he glanced to the other prisoners who were giving him nervous stares. Most of them averted their eyes the moment their eyes had met his. The prisoner glared a little at all of them. Greedy bastards…hadn’t their shower time been over?

Stepping up to the showerhead next to Grisha, the prisoner uncomfortably peered up at him. Grisha was scowling at the wall, whilst his hand massaged the back of his head. His thumb rubbed the bald spot in his hair where a large painful knot had formed. He growled lowly to himself, wishing he had taken that steel bird out just as soon as he had returned the boy. The birds stung, and it had hurt more than what the cops had normally shot him with.

Disturbed by Grisha’s growling, the prisoner’s eyes darted to the shower dial, and then briefly…just so briefly…he hadn’t meant to do it, but he happened to notice out of his peripherals. Slowly, the prisoner’s blue eyes rolled over to Grisha’s hips, and his heart near nosedived into his stomach. The shock from what he had seen had startled him so much that his soap bar had slipped from his hands. The man scrambled to catch it, but the defiant bar slipped, jumped, and flipped through his grip. He chased it to the floor, desperate not to let it hit. His soul screamed, NOOOOOOOOO!

The soap clattered to the floor, gliding over to bump into Grisha’s foot. The giant glanced down at the prisoner who was on his hands and knees, hand frozen over the soap bar. All activity stopped as several of the other inmates had stopped bathing to stare at the lone prisoner as though he was a dead man.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! No! No, fuck me! Just keep showering please! Don’t pay me any mind, he thought in panic.

He could feel Grisha’s eyes all over him. The big mother fucker must have been sizing him up! He knew what he was thinking!

Grisha slowly arched a brow in confusion. Was he going to pick up the soap bar or not? The giant faced him and crouched, and the prisoner felt his shadow descend over top of him. He prostrated himself upon the floor, with his head turned to the side so that the running water wouldn’t drown him. He laid there on his stomach, face pale, eyes shrunk, and lips quivering in terror. When Grisha had crouched over him, it was like being under the gaze of a gorilla in heat. If he moved a muscle, the ape was going to tear his asshole up!

Don’t move bruh! one prisoner thought.

“Oh shit, his asshole is done,” one prisoner muttered.

“Look at him, he’s prey dude!”

Grisha grasped the soap and held it out to the prisoner whose eyes instantly locked closed. He bore his teeth, his whole body tensing nervously. Oh god, it had looked like a serpent, waiting to just crawl inside his asshole if it didn’t teabag him in the mouth first. He could feel it swaying before his head. He wanted to teabag him so bad, he just knew it!

The Saiyan scowled when the human didn’t seem to want to move. He poked him in the cheek with the soap bar, and the prisoner’s eyes instantly snapped open as he imagined a penis touching his face. The prisoner released a hysterical scream and crawled away from Grisha, slipping and scrambling to his feet as he fled for the shower room exit. Grisha blinked and glanced at the other prisoners who recoiled in fright. Collecting their shower supplies, they were all next to flee the shower room.

The giant returned to his feet, regarding the soap bar as though it possessed some sort of frightening power. He didn’t understand what had been so scary about it. Handing the soap bar to his tail, he resumed bathing as his tail started scrubbing his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prison life…Grisha hadn’t understood where he was, why he was there, and why he had to wear orange pajamas. It didn’t seem too unusual since everyone had to wear them, but he didn’t understand why the cops had went through so much trouble just to put him in a tiny room. His bunk mate was like a cat in a tree, his hackles were raised while the dog lounged below him with his arms crossed behind his head and one leg hanging off the mattress.

The prisoner from the shower still had a white soap streak across his cheek and was holding his pillow to his chest, crying as though he had been violated.

Already Grisha had made a name for himself, and he hadn’t even done anything. He was known as The Cell Block Ape or the Monkey King, depending on which side of the dispute you wanted to be on. Some believed him to be a product of evolution or the product of a woman who had sex with a monkey…or an ape. Hardly anyone suspected him to be an alien lifeform.

Grisha closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t going to give up searching for her. He figured that if he waited for a while, then maybe the humans and beastmen would let him go.

To say that Crim had fallen in with the wrong crowd was an understatement on a number of levels. First these were a bunch of thugs, common criminals but far from the most dangerous gang in the city. Those, were the Eighters, named after some mad scientist's dream of of making monsters. The Eighters had been holed up in a warehouse in what had once been the heart of the city.

It had been their headquarters until Crim's new friends had explained their dilemma to him. Of course he knew right out the gate that they were embellishing some of the details and leaving out others, he really didn't care. They wanted him to drive out the Eighters, he wanted a place to sleep and people who had their ear to the ground.

So he almost got a decent warm up helping them out.

With his contacts he was able to keep a some track of the others, at least the lovely Flute was easy enough to find. So was Vannessa but she and her friends weren't so much hiding as not attracting attention. He'd never lost her. He had no clue where the catboy was and the giant well he'd seen the giant get arrested and had considered stepping in before remembering three things.

First, he honestly didn't care.

Second, getting directly invovled with the police was a bad idea.

Third, he was actually searching for Masque de Mask. . . Masked Muscle. . .Tuxedo Mask. Whatever, he wasn't interested in the giant and his never ending search to rescue his. . .whatever Lena was.

He was damned impressed when the giant's head snapped back from a bullet to the head though. Crim could dodge bullets, maybe not a .50 cal at that range but he dodged them because if something like that hit him it would take his head clean off. "Glad I didn't fight him." Crim muttered before leaping to a new rooftop careful to give the police a wide berth.

When Vanessa woke up the next morning, the Sun had just barely peeked above the horizon, and was beginning its slow ascent into the sky. She rolled her shoulders as she padded her way across her apartment towards the balcony overlooking the streets, and then closed her eyes before taking a deep breath. When she exhaled, she opened her eyes and started stretching her fingers. Out of habit she grabbed at the railing and "tugged" at it, then decided it was braced well enough to use as a prop.

"Hnngh," she grunted, and then pushed down on the railing while she lifted herself up off the ground, balancing herself rather precariously over the metal bar.

Vanessa let out another deep breath as she lowered herself down, then pushed herself up while keeping her body as straight as possible.

Falling wasn't an option... and she performed her exercises with such skill that falling wasn't even something she was worried about.

Or thought about.

Vincent climbed out of bed by the time Vanessa had finished her twentieth set, and all he could do was lean against the doorway and watch as she performed one last set before she expertly flipped her body up and landed on her feet.

"Morning."

"Hnn. What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

Vanessa nodded her head, then stretched her fingers as they both moved inside for breakfast. Vincent made sure to prepare twice as much food than Vanessa usually ate, which was still a pretty considerable amount. After breakfast, Vanessa changed into a pair of black gi pants and a dark tank top, then slipped her feet into a pair of padded boots with long laces.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Vanessa said, and she grabbed a light black coat before following Vincent out of the apartment.

"So which way?"

Vanessa reached into her coat pocket, and drew out a small piece of paper.

"Fifth."

Vincent nodded. The Fifth District was far enough away from police headquarters that they didn't have to worry about meeting anyone unpleasant, and Vincent still had a few connections there that if anything did happen... they'd be protected. Vanessa's directions led them to a large warehouse in the center of the district, and there were already a lot of people waiting to head inside.

Cheetu had slept well and woken up early. He had only eaten lightly but drunk plenty before going for a leisurely run. A quick circuit around the city warmed him up before he did some more strenuous exercises to loosen up his muscles.

He was feeling very loose and relaxed as the time to gather approached and he dressed in a new loincloth he had purchased for the occasion. A bright blue one that went well with his yellow skin and white fur. He was quite pleased with it and stood admiring himself for a minute before hurrying over to the place he had visited several times already.

It was just an abandoned warehouse in the fifth district and did not look like much, but today a lot of people were already gathered around it.

Cheetu dashed passed them and easily climbed the building, perching in a shadowed hiding spot he had found several days before. He wanted to observe the people arriving and maybe spot any of the people he might be fighting. He was also hoping to spot any of the people he had been with on that day. It would be nice to see if they had also heard about this tournament and would be fighting.

Lying down comfortably he scanned the crowd but didn't see anyone he knew. He thought he saw a few fighters, but they could just be fans as well. They looked powerful but he just didn't sense the same power he had felt that day.

Still he would wait and see what happened.

"Green and Blue," Halo 4 OST.

As Flute adjusted the collar of her "uniform," she looked at herself in the mirror, ran her palms down to smooth out her skirt, and took a steadying breath.

And she smiled softly.

"Next chapter."

She stepped out and closed the door behind herself, glancing down at the scrap of paper in her hand.

They had passed it to her in a fortune cookie, of all things. Taking no chances with this shindig getting pinched by the man, apparently.

She was a little anxious about such extralegal things again jeopardizing her job as a "paralegal" at Foggy's office. But-- but this was important. Sometimes a person's calling transcended legal strictures, like a missionary sneaking Bibles into a Communist nation. Her religion was advancement and enlightenment, if you could call it a religion, and she could only achieve those things by pushing herself the way such a fight would push her.

No-one would be hurt, she promised herself, who didn't understand the risks.

She got on a bus heading into The Fifth District.

She could run, of course, and get there faster. But just this once... just this once she thought she would conserve her energies. Make time to focus.

The bus wasn't especially crowded, it was early yet, and she did stretches in the aisle while one gloved hand clasped a standee hanger.

Aussie_Wolf said:

Lying down comfortably he scanned the crowd but didn't see anyone he knew. He thought he saw a few fighters, but they could just be fans as well. They looked powerful but he just didn't sense the same power he had felt that day.

Still he would wait and see what happened.

Click to expand...

Unaware, as yet, that Cheetu was above her, Flute made her floaty way through the crowd, peering about for familiar faces. Specifically, she was looking for Grisha, to reassure herself that he was okay-- but she didn't immediately see him towering above the melee with a handful of the other taller ladies and gentlemen here today-- none quite as tall as Grisha would have been. She was also looking for Vanessa, and Crim, and Cheetu, any familiar face was a port in a storm, but none of them had found her eyes yet.

Crim's associates did an excellent job of keeping their ears to the ground and an even better job of convincing Crim that they would have kept up with these sorts of events regardless of if he'd told them to bet their money on him.

Of course he'd had to convince them that even if he didn't go all the way that he'd certainly go far enough to make their money back and he'd even handed them a good chunk of his remaining money to put on him.

His money was where his mouth was so to speak.

When the time came he returned once again to the rooftops leaping from one to the next still searching in vain for that other warrior but he was more than willing to 'settle' for getting to tussle with Flute or fight Vanessa or . . .

The big guy was in prison. A personal problem to be sure but Crim did feel a twinge of guilt like he was somehow avoiding a challenge and masking it behind obeying the law.

"Oh well." He muttered as he came to a stop.

He very nearly stepped on Cheetu as he came the edge of the last building in the area. He didn't have anything to say to the catboy but he didn't want to be rude either so he offered a polite mock salute leaning forward until gravity took hold of him.

He loved the feeling of free falling, it was so much like flying and though it only lasted a second before he had to kick off the wall to a near by tree and ride it down to avoid breaking his legs he savored it.

Crim spotted Flute almost immediately and while he decided against touching her he was curious how close to her he could get before she'd acknowledge him.

Sean Renaud said:

Crim spotted Flute almost immediately and while he decided against touching her he was curious how close to her he could get before she'd acknowledge him.

Click to expand...

Well, he wasn't hiding, as such.

And her head was on the proverbial swivel. Not that "keep your head on a swivel" was technically a proverb, but Flute's head-swivel was good enough that they could coin a proverb about it.

She turned and saw him and lit up considerably, silking through the crowd with surprising effortlessness considering the teeming masses-- like tip-toeing between raindrops --and approached him.

Flute held up a single gloved fist and beamed at him-- her programming indicated that a "fist-bump" was a jovial expression of solidarity.

"Hello, Crim! I hope you have been well. I have taken your advice these past days and striven very hard to not flatter myself."

"Have you seen any of the others?"

No touching allowed.

Vanessa and Vincent walked towards the growing line, and she learned from a few "friends" that a few bribes had been put into place to allow the fighters enough time to get inside and register. Considering just how many people had shown up to fight, or at least watch, she imagined that someone with a considerable amount of wealth was helping to keep the peace between the underground and the law.

She wasn't all that surprised, actually.

These sorts of events were sure to provide some nice returns.

Standing in line with her arms crossed, Vanessa glanced over at one fighter in front of her, and as soon as he saw her he stepped off to the side and rolled his eyes before leaving.

"Jacobs?"

"Huh?"

Vincent pointed at the man as he walked away.

"Oh. Well... he wasn't going to win anyways"

"Not after that trouncing you gave him three weeks ago."

"I was going to take it easy on him... but then he grabbed my ass," Vanessa said as the line started to move again.

Vincent nodded, then stopped when he caught the last bit.

"Wait... he did what?"

Crim managed not to frown but returned the fist bump. Which required him fishing his hand out of his pocket, which looked more awkward than it should have.

He'd been hoping to steal quick kiss but she wasn't entirely blind, actually she'd spotted him a fair way out. He needent have bothered.

"Well if you aren't going to flatter you, I'll gladly take that burden." Crim said. "You look lovely." Like a lot of his polite demeanor it was decidedly forced.

Sean Renaud said:

"Well if you aren't going to flatter you, I'll gladly take that burden." Crim said. "You look lovely." Like a lot of his polite demeanor it was decidedly forced.

Click to expand...

"Thank you!" Flute did a small, quick curtsy, closing her eyes and tilting her head with a wide smile before again regarding him. She was, perhaps, oblivious to the insincerity in his delivery-- she had no reason to comprehend that he would say something he didn't mean. She certainly had no idea that he had intended to kiss her without seeking consent first-- she wasn't a mind-reader, and she believed the best of people.

"I believe that an event of this momentousness should be treated with respect, and part of respect is looking one's best, or as best as you can. Like a military uniform, or Easter Sunday at church, or a job interview. I want to show that I am as ready as I can be."

Tucking a, heh, crimson lock of hair behind an emerald ear, she glanced around at the crowd. "I wonder how many of these people are here to fight, and how many are here to watch the show?"

Crim relaxed slightly after her courtsey. It wasn't that he didn't think she was lovely, he did. That just wasn't the way he would phrase it and he didn't want to insult her.

"I suppose. It's a fight not ballet." Crim replied. He was still in his original outfit, well in it again. He had managed to shower and get his clothes washed since they had parted ways. "The majority of them are probably just spectators. I can't imagine this many fighters gathering in one place." He said scanning over the rest.

"To bad the big guy is in jail. I wouldn't have minded getting a shot at him." Crim wasn't being entirely truthful there. After seeing the man take a bullet to the head and. . .well he went down but not immediately and not permanently either he wasn't certain that was something he really wanted to fight.

Characters
Lena
Fat Man


The warehouse was full of various smells of drugs, one of those odors exuding from a cigar clasped between the thick lips of a fat man. He was seated in a black leather recliner that he had brought himself to comfortably watch the fight. Standing to his left were two other suited gentlemen with their arms crossed behind their backs, and at his feet sat a young woman, about 18 years old, who appeared out of place amidst the riff-raff.

Her sun-blonde hair pooled about her bare shoulders as she kept her head lowered sullenly and in a humiliation that she was nearly accustomed to. In Kousetsu Village, she would have never dared to wear the garments she wore then, a green frilly bikini that barely clothed her creamy skin. She was a model of the event. Just a pretty piece of meat on two legs who was to stalk across the stage in ridiculously high heels, holding up a large board that would let the audience know what Tier they were witnessing. Lena didn’t have to raise her head to feel the eyes that licked all over her. Why had she ventured to the city alone? Well…she knew why for she feared that if she had brought Grisha, then there might have been trouble. Now she was regretting having told him to stay. She didn’t know what day it was or how many days it had been since she was last home. Five days maybe?

Oh Grisha, please, she mentally begged. She prayed every moment that he would eventually find her. He would avenge her, and all the shame the fat man had put her through.

A cold tumbler glass pressed against her cheek, causing Lena to gasp and flinch away from the sudden chill. The boss man grinned, biting hard on his cigar as he shook with mirth.

“Look around, you’re going to be making me money today. Any one of these suckers can buy you for the night, and you better not disappoint’em.”

Lena’s eyes grew in fear. “Wh-what? I’m not a prostitute for you to just sell off!”

Fat Man’s grin dropped into a hard scowl. “You’re whatever I want you to be. Talk back to me again and you’ll regret it.”

Lena frowned and looked away from the disgusting man, her blonde locks obscuring her face as her eyes clinched tightly, holding back her tears. She would rather risk running away and getting killed than let a man she didn’t love rape her.

Oh Grisha! Grisha please! she thought desperately.

Sean Renaud said:

"I suppose. It's a fight not ballet." Crim replied.

Click to expand...

Flute twirled, a little pirouette there in the midst of the throng. "Oh, but combat performed with grace and forethought can be as artful as any ballet. I'm a big fan of Baguazhang, and its circular movements are balletic as well as battle-worthy! Some people watch fights for bone-crunching violence, I am sure, but it would be just as valid for people to watch it for displays of athleticism and agility!"

Sean Renaud said:

"The majority of them are probably just spectators. I can't imagine this many fighters gathering in one place." He said scanning over the rest.

Click to expand...

"I am sure that that is accurate," Flute nodded firmly. "Though I am sure the hope of victory will inspire many an unlikely contender, it is the true warriors who will shine through."

Sean Renaud said:

"To bad the big guy is in jail. I wouldn't have minded getting a shot at him."

Click to expand...

Flute blinked, taking a moment to process this.

And then her eyes-- already expressive pools --widened considerably. "Oh! Oh, Grisha is imprisoned? Oh, that's awful!"

She clutched at her heart and scowled. "Oh, I should have stuck with him after all. I should have done more-- I should have asked my lawyer friend to help him-- the idea that he would be trapped in a box now when all he wanted was to find and free his friend--"

Flute punched her own palm with a resounding clap, frowning furiously. "I'm his friend and I failed him."

Crim nodded at her comments about what he assumed was a martial art that he'd never heard of.

"You didn't fail him, he's. . .a rough man." Crim replied. He didn't think the giant was evil or anything but he was disruptive to say the least. Also he could already see in Flute's eyes that she was about to do something he would regret.

She's not even that sexy. He glanced away from her vainly hoping to find a beauty beyond hers. Yeah, she really fucking is.

Cheetu had heard and smelt the man coming towards him for awhile and had been surprised when he had almost stepped on him. Had he no courtesy getting so close to him. He had thought because it was one of the men he had met while fighting the female warrior, that he was coming to talk to him, but it seemed from his reaction that he had not even known he was here.

Cheetu was just about to yell at him when with a half hearted salute, he fell from the roof. He watched as he fell towards the floor then kicked off to a tree and then clambered down to the ground.

He was puzzled. Why had he not just landed straight on the ground. Was he trying to hide from someone? Sighing he gave up trying to work out the mind of someone else and went back to studying the crowd.

He found Vanessa and the man he had seen her with near the entrance soon enough and then he spotted the green warrior as well. He was shocked to see her with the man who had just passed him, what was his name again...Crim, that had been it.

So now four of the fighters he knew were here. Only the large one was missing and he was sure he was not here. Someone of his size and presence would be easily seen.

Sighing Cheetu stood up and stretched. Time to enter the building. Casually he stepped from the edge and dropped to the ground and walked towards the entrance.

Green Beret.

Sean Renaud said:

"You didn't fail him, he's. . .a rough man." Crim replied.

Click to expand...

"While it is true that he has seemed more storm than calm," Flute allowed, "his anger came from love! What greater righteousness for indignation could there be than that? And he showed me he was capable of softness, too. There are none of us so unwise that we cannot learn to be better than we are, and there are none of us so far from grace that we are not still good, and there are none of us so callous that we can refuse to nurture that which is good! I should have helped him more. Maybe I still can..."

Sean Renaud said:

She's not even that sexy. He glanced away from her vainly hoping to find a beauty beyond hers. Yeah, she really fucking is.

Click to expand...

While Flute's biology was, at least from the standpoint of genetic percentages, primarily human, she had been grafted with samples from a species that reproduced asexually-- it had no gender dimorphism, no need to mate. Obviously, she had manifested as female because of her human DNA, but if she had a sexuality it hadn't even occurred to her yet.

She recognized aesthetics as pleasing from a mathematical, symmetrical, function-over-form perspective. She recognized that Grisha's musculature and bone density was a marvel of biological engineering. She recognized that Cheetu's lithe, wiry build made him capable of feats that would defy the finest bionics lab to reproduce. She recognized that Vanessa's rough-around-the-edges but conventionally-acceptable beauty was a fascinating counterpoint to the sheer power she possessed. And she recognized that Crim had athleticism and dynamism and toughness all his own-- though thus far he had kept most of that hidden up his proverbial sleeve.

None of these people were unappealing to her.

But she simply didn't think along the lines of sexual attractiveness.

At least not yet.

She put a furtive hand through her red red hair.

She stepped towards the line that was forming to get into the entrance, surprisingly methodical given the ad hoc nature of the event and the disestablishmentarianism of the crowd's demographic.

"I need to think. My programming includes guerrilla extraction ops, if it comes to that. But these require intel and planning and--"

She brightened instantly, distracted from her insurgent line of thinking by someone that she had, well, spotted.

"Cheetu!" she waved furiously. "Over here!"

She hadn't yet seen Vanessa and Vincent. But it was only a matter of time!