Post by Speenatch on Nov 29, 2016 8:23:16 GMT
The Unbreakable Mister Steel… grumbled and grunted. He’d been training hard all week, after training hard for years… And a freaking kid in a costume was stronger than him in and running around in Satan City. Technically two kids were stronger than him and were running around in Satan City. That was infuriating on multiple levels. How was he supposed to be a hero that was as strong as Mister Satan had been, a hero that could defend the Earth from evil monsters and fighters, if he was so stupidly… pathetically… weak?!
‘I mean, the only guy I’ve met that I could possibly take in a straight fight was Big Train…’ He clenched his fist as he sat on his bed, pumping energy into it as if he was about to launch an attack on an opponent. However, he soon dispelled it. ‘No, no. I’m in the city, can’t smash anything up here. And I’m definitely not going to break anything in Mom and Dad’s place…’ And he also wasn’t going to unleash a ki-fueled hurricane in his old room. Or anywhere near his sister’s side of it.
Yes, the tiny little bedroom was divided exactly in half. Though the aqua color of the walls and the red of the carpet was the same all around, there were two VERY different sets of decoration around. On the side Speenatch was sitting on, there were all sorts of posters of motivational slogans, various types of dinosaur that roamed the wilderness, and fighters that had been popular when he had been a little kid. In addition to a framed copy of a painting of Mister Satan standing victorious over the God of Destruction himself… along with the monstrous Cell and a great, pink blob of a man that had fought against him many times in the World Martial Arts Tournament. Always coming second to the Earth’s greatest hero. He also had a rickety old desk, that still had some old books of his on it… There was also his closet, filled with clothes of his from long ago, and a box of “genuine Mister Satan artifacts” that he’d looked for on “archaeology missions”. Oh, and the bed he was on. Twin-sized, and covered by a blanket that was emblazoned with the Satan Legend school’s symbol.
Speenatch looked down, pointing his eyes at the reddish-colored carpeting without actually looking at it. He then pulled his shades off, putting them in a pocket on his vest. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen, there was only a sad frown on his lips. ‘Maybe I should just give it up. I can’t hold a candle to anyone I’ve met. And no matter how hard I’ve tried, every “fight” has been me getting my keister handed to me…’
As he glanced at her side of the room, where some poster for a singer that hadn’t been relevant since he was in high-school was hanging. Right alongside some paper emblazoned with a police recruitment slogan from a “Career Day” that had happened long ago. He also glanced to her dresser, and her desk… which he remembered watching her fix up and repair. A desk that had last been organized long ago, without that system ever being broken. Everything on it had a place, and it was in it. Finally, he looked to her bed, where a pressed and folded police uniform lay. Right on top of a bed that had probably been made that morning. Tears started to well up in his brown eyes and he flopped back onto his bed.
“It’s not fair… Not at all…”, he muttered to himself as he spread out over the twin-sized mattress of the bedframe. His eyes closed, partially because of how blurry his sight was becoming, “I trained so hard… I worked myself half to death every day….”
‘That doesn’t mean ya know what you were doing, squirt.’ He opened his eyes, rapidly looking around. Was that… Was that Savoya’s voice? His sister?
“Who said that? S-Sis..? That you? You there…?”
‘Only in yer dreams, squirt.’
Speenatch growled and bristled at that old nickname. His confusion temporarily forgotten. “I’ve told you to stop callin’ me that nearly a hundred times!”
‘And I might just be a product of your imagination, so whatever I’m sayin’, yer actually sayin’ to yerself… squirt.’
Speenatch took a deep breath, and let it all out in a low growl, before crossing his arms as he sat up. He then noticed that the ceiling was a bit taller than it had been before he closed his eyes. And his muscles were gone… so were his normal clothes. He was just wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts now, his usual sleepwear when growing up. And across from him, sat a full-grown woman. One with the same brown hair, the same brown eyes as him… but a far lighter skin-tone. And way less hair. And more curves. Oh, she was also wearing a police uniform.
“…Okay, now what the heck’s goin on?”, he said, in a voice that was far smaller than the one he’d been using a moment ago. “…Because I have the body of a ten year old and yer an adult… and ya were only five years older than me.”
Without opening her mouth, the woman responded. ‘Yer dreamin, num-nutz. Ya feel like a kid again cause yer in mom’s house and ya got schooled outside.’ Her lips turned up into a smile at her pun as she continued. ‘Sides, ya were cryin’ and sulkin’ like a kid just a moment ago.’
With a most childish tone to his childish voice, Speenatch replied, “Nuh-uh.[/color]” He then opened his eyes wide as he realized what he just said. And with his new-found awareness, he prevented himself from crossing his little arms. “Well okay, maybe. But I might as well be a kid when kids can kick my ass without even trying.”
‘Maybe but-’
“Could ya speak with yer mouth, Savoya? I get that this is a dream, but… It’s real weird…”
Savoya, for her part, rolled her eyes before acquiescing to Speenatch’s request. “Alright, alright, squirt… Now, as I was gonna say… Those kids might be able to kick yer ass now, but so could any chump before ya learned how to fight.”
“ Whaddya mean, sis?”
“Well, think of it this way… Ya didn’t even know ki was a thing ‘till some guy came in and taught ya about it. And ya didn’t know how ta throw a punch until ya took those classes at the rec…”
Speenatch looked down at his little hand, before clenching it into a fist. A proper one, like he’d been taught. Thumb on the outside. He also remembered the first time he’d ever thrown a punch… and it had been a wrong one. He’d been dumb and put his thumb INSIDE of his fingers, wrapping them around it. Nearly broke the thing as badly as he broke that punk’s nose.
“So what yer sayin’ is… it ain’t enough ta train myself. In order to get stronger, I need a teacher!”
Savoya nodded her head, then tipped her blue hat off to him. “Yessir indeedly. Ya just gotta find someone that can help ya get stronger. And maybe push yaself more.”
Speenatch nodded, feeling a bit bigger. And hairier. That’s because he was back to his adult form. “YEAH! I just gotta push myself harder, and find someone to teach me more!”
He stood up, rushing across the dream room to hug the dream-version of his sister with his dream body. “Thanks sis! I owe ya!”
His hug was returned by the taller, but slimmer woman. Her arms wrapped around him as she replied, “Yeah ya do… Now wake up bro.”
Speenatch had just enough time to try say, “Wait wha-?”, before he awoke again. His eyes slowly opened… then blinked a few times. Then, they opened properly wide and he quickly sat his ass up off the bed. Those same brown eyes then glanced over to his sister’s bed… there was no Savoya there now. Just a folded uniform.
The man then stood himself up and out of bed, slipping back into his pink boots. A quick glance was given over to the empty bed, along with a gentle pat to the hat of the empty uniform. “Thanks sis, I’ll try to visit more…”
With that, he turned and exited the room... gently closing the door behind him. He had to get himself out there. He had to find someone to take his training to the next level. And most of all, he needed better training gear.
But first, Speenatch walked out into the main living space of the apartment… which managed to be a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one. Very cozy. Not very easy to get around in when it was crowded. Luckily, based on the position of the sun, it was midday. Which meant his parents were both at work for quite a few more hours.
He’d already gotten the groceries for the week yesterday… maybe he’d cook up something so they’d have dinner waiting when they got back. It wasn’t every week that he visited, after all.. And he wanted to take care of his parents for once, instead of it being the other way around. He resolved on making something tasty, like chicken quinoa! That’d be something good! Though, he hadn’t gotten all of the ingredients for it that he needed.
This meant he had to visit the market! Maybe the outdoor one… They always had something fresh! Once more, he made sure not to wear his “trademarked” gi (which others seemed to find garish). Instead, he opted for remaining in his denim outfit. The one with the dark brown t-shirt, and the blue, denim jeans and (sleeveless) vest. He still wore his shades, though. And his pink boots.
After a quick double-check for his wallet, the spare set of keys, and the pre-paid comm device he’d picked up the other day, Speenatch was out the door... He was soon back inside it to grab a canvas bag. Then he was out the door. Which left him in the Great Outside, as the complex was set up so each door led out onto an open-air walkway. One which had a few staircases leading up. However, the man didn’t need to bother with such an effort when he could simply hop over the safety railing to the walkway and float down the three floors he needed to travel to the ground.
‘Man I love bein’ able to fly…’ As he thought this to himself, Speenatch decided to simply walk the rest of the way to the market. Even if he loved flying, he also knew doing it for every bit of travelling was probably a bit of a waste. Besides, Satan City was just as lovely from the ground as it was from the air. If not more so!
His eyes glanced around as he took it all in. He noticed the various apartment blocks, all scattered around, each bearing some sort of mural portraying the city’s namesake, or graffiti. Though to be fair, the graffiti was often quite nice and artsy, not just a tag. Then there were the little shops and businesses tucked between larger buildings, or on the bottom floor of something larger. All of them family-owned, bearing some title like, “Boribapper’s Boiled Rice” or “Arrozcon’s Groceries”. All in all, it was a pretty nice neighborhood. A little worn down, a little rough around the edges… but a good place to grow up. Even now, a year after the Saiyan invasion! Why, one could hardly believ-
Speenatch stopped all forward motion and all train of thought. The reason? He caught site of a building that had been smashed up. It had been made of shiny, white-painted bricks once. And it had been old. That much was apparent by the copper pipes that were sticking out at odd angles, and the wooden beams being used to support the flooring. Nobody used that in construction anymore, at least not outside of rich districts or private projects. Then again, nobody used Saiyan pods either, and that had clearly once been nestled in the center of the building. After tearing the dang thing down.
He actually recognized the place. It had been… not an apartment block. No, it’d been one of those little office buildings. The sort that hosted a few different professions that each had a practice with its own space. Like the family’s old friend… a lawyer that had gone to school with his dad back in the day. Not law school. They’d had the same homeroom teachers for a few years during their early years. He wondered where that fellow was now. Had he even survived? Why hadn’t Speenatch checked in on things…?
He turned right away from the building after a good few minutes of staring. ‘No-no-no. I’m tryin’ to be happy today. Move on and alla that jazz. I ain’t gonna dwell on that today.’
And he didn’t. He just turned around, and continued walking. Away from the destruction, away from the past. All while trying not to focus on the fact that he would have to walk right past that building on the way back. Instead, he focused on the sky. The wonderful, blue sky, where the sun was shining so brightly… with a few clouds to fill up the empty expanse. He could stare up at it all day. While whistling! Narrowly avoiding being run into by a car nixed his plan for that, though. Then he had to at least pretend to focus on his surroundings. And probably actually focus on them a little bit.
The rest of the walk to the market passed by so quickly. More buildings, more people in the streets. Crosswalks and cars. They all just jumbled together into one concrete-colored blur. At least until a little extra color came into view…
Reds, blues, greens, and plenty of people and zoans. Based off of the sights, and the smells that ran the gamut from “food” to “porta-potty that hasn’t been changed in three weeks”, Speenatch had made it to the outdoor market.
‘Man, good thing the weather’s so nice today. Otherwise, I’d have had to fly what… to three different places?’
As he gave that mental pat on the back to himself, he began to wander through. So many stalls. So many folding tables and vans. Some seemed to just be average joes and jills looking to get some money for selling old junk or the products of their vegetable gardens. Others… Others were zoans and humans that actually made a living off of this place. Farmers and pickers that sold produce and junk respectively…
They usually had the best stuff, so Speenatch decided to peruse. He looked over old trading cards, a few books about Mister Satan… all texts that he’d already read. Then there was the junk, tech both old and new that he could barely make heads or tails of. At least when it was in the form of old components and machines that people didn’t make anymore.
And that was about it. A blur of browsing, punctuated by the occasional ingredient that he needed. A good deal on tomatoes and peppers… some nice, organically grown garlic… onions… And of course, the all-important quinoa. Which was vitally necessary for “chicken quinoa”. Hence the name.
With his purchases all done. And the recipe in his mind, Speenatch was about ready to go. But… as he made his way out… he couldn’t help but be drawn to one stand in particular. One where a rather short man was standing. Well, no… “man” was the wrong term. This was a cat. A black cat with a “mustache” made from grooming his whiskers just so. He also had a nice hat. It was tall, purple, and had a wide brim. Underneath were yellow eyes, with slitted pupils… Then there was a purple trench coat that he (…she? …they?) wore over their body. The stand had the same shade of purple for the awning.
‘I’m sensin’ a motif of some sort here…’
He decided to give the stand a glance, looking at the name hanging above it as he walked up towards it. It read, “The Amazing Whisker’s Magical Artifacts!” And there was a tagline there, too. “Whiskering you away to new heights!” Speenatch gave a nod of appreciation. Both to the pun, and to the cool stuff on display!
Though he only had a moment to let his shaded eyes look things over before the cat piped up. In an accent that one could only recognize as “not from here”.
“Ah, good day to you sir! I see you arrrrrre a man of… His eyes gave Speenatch and his (relatively “tame”) outfit a once over, “…different tastes… Does anything herrrrrrre interrrrest you perrrrrhaps?”
Speenatch looked at the cat, then back down to the table. On it he saw all sorts of things. From crystal balls, to wands, to decks of tarot cards. None of them really caught his eye. Instead… he gravitated to what appeared to be a set of… four bracelets? All of them were made out of some sort of black material, though he couldn’t tell if it was metal or not. What he could tell was that they were black as the void. As in, the same color as the portions of the night-sky between stars. An inky black that did not shine or reflect any of the light that was spilling onto the bracelets. Not even when he took of his shades to look at them directly. That was a bit weird… As were the oval-shaped, yellow gems in the center of them. And the lack of any seams or mechanisms to open them up.
As he moved his shades to rest on his forehead, revealing his lovely, brown eyes, he spoke up to the cat. “Well these things look purty nice. What uh… what are they?”
“Ohohohoho… You have a keen eye, therrrrre sirrr. These arrrrre but frrrrrragments of a legend…” The cat glanced from side to side after lifting up the brim of his hat. As if to ensure nobody around was listening… and truth be told, nobody but Speenatch was. Only when he seemed sure did the little black cat continue…. “Once, long ago, therrrre was a powerful king. A demon that conquerrrred entire nations and theirrrr arrrrmies by himself. Acrrrross the rrrrealm of demons… then the Earrrth… and supposedly on otherrrr worrrrlds acrrrross the starrrrs. But he found no solace. Everrrry victorrrry he gained was won so easily. Everrry battle was a chorrrre instead of a challenge. He wanted a rrrreal victorrrry. One that was won thrrrrough sweat and valorrrr.”
At that point in the story, the strange little zoan stood up off of the stool he’d been sitting on. He then moved to stand behind it, before placing a paw-like foot upon it for a “dramatic” pose. Something to really sell the tale. He also dropped the “r” rolling, which really called into question his choice to do so earlier. If it wasn’t a verbal tic, why did he-?
“But he knew not how to find this. Until one day… as he wandered the realm of the spirits, he came upon a lump of strange metal. It was pure black, the color of a void. And as he drew close, he felt his strength ebb. Any lesser power would have been eliminated completely… but he remained. Though far less strong. With what remained of his power, he carried this lump of metal all the way back to his castle… Where he had the finest smiths and greatest wizards from all across the world forge him a set of armor. Armor, not to protect him… but to limit him. To contain his power.” He pointed a hand to the three bracelets still upon the table, “And from the destroyed remains of his armor, these four weights were made to tra-…” His eyes opened wide as he noticed one of the weighted bands was missing. The cat then nervously glanced and felt all around the table as he desperately searched for it. He overturned “magical” artifacts with reckless abandon and scattered “rare” gems all around in his search for it. However, he didn’t find it on the table.
Instead, it was in Speenatch’s hand. The stout man had picked up one of the bands and was giving it a more thorough inspection up close. While also trying to find any sort of mechanism or latch for opening the dang thing up. He couldn’t find one at all, no button to press, no switch to flip, no keyhole for him to unlock.
“Yeah, but how do I get this thing on?”
“I was getting to that you… you….” The zoan sighed before pinching his little cat-snout… “Potential customer…” After taking another deep breath, and letting out another sigh, the strange cat-man then put on a smile. The “r” rolling also returned. “As I was going to say, eventually, in orrrrderrrr to put on the weights, one must rrrrub the gems which bind them closed. But I warrrrn you, only one which they rrrrecognize as worrrthy can-”
A clicking noise entered the cat’s ears. The reason? Speenatch had rubbed the gem as soon as he was told to, and the bracelet had opened. Just like that. What followed was another click as he locked it into place on his wrist. Just by slapping it on. It even fit perfectly! As if it had molded itself to the shape of his wrist right after he put it on. All while “The Amazing Whiskers” watched on in shock.
Speenatch didn’t really notice, though. He just tested the weight of the band. It didn’t feel too bad. He could definitely feel it, and it was enough to mess up his timing… but he wasn’t impaired. The whole set would make for a great training aid!
“’Ey, how much fer the set of the uh… weighted bands?”
Whiskers got over his shock as he sensed a sale. A sale that would rid him of some items he had been unable to carry for three days. And which he suspected to be cursed. His eyes closed, he smiled… and he held up a single finger.
“Forrr you my frrriend? Only one thousand Zeni! Quite a deal, if I do say so myself!”
Speenatch narrowed his eyes… he wasn’t too sure. After all, that was almost all of his remaining money. And he could probably get similar weights for less! However, he was forced to agree with the price by virtue of being unable to take the band off. At all. No matter how hard he tried.
And so he walked back to his apartment, weighed down by his lack of funds… and by the four bands he was now wearing. One on each wrist and ankle. ‘Well…’, Speenatch thought to himself as he pulled his shades back over his eyes. ‘…it ain’t the worst purchase I’ve ever made.’
He would come to debate that statement someday. Very heavily. Though not on that day. On that day, he went home to cook...
((WC: 3880 words))
‘I mean, the only guy I’ve met that I could possibly take in a straight fight was Big Train…’ He clenched his fist as he sat on his bed, pumping energy into it as if he was about to launch an attack on an opponent. However, he soon dispelled it. ‘No, no. I’m in the city, can’t smash anything up here. And I’m definitely not going to break anything in Mom and Dad’s place…’ And he also wasn’t going to unleash a ki-fueled hurricane in his old room. Or anywhere near his sister’s side of it.
Yes, the tiny little bedroom was divided exactly in half. Though the aqua color of the walls and the red of the carpet was the same all around, there were two VERY different sets of decoration around. On the side Speenatch was sitting on, there were all sorts of posters of motivational slogans, various types of dinosaur that roamed the wilderness, and fighters that had been popular when he had been a little kid. In addition to a framed copy of a painting of Mister Satan standing victorious over the God of Destruction himself… along with the monstrous Cell and a great, pink blob of a man that had fought against him many times in the World Martial Arts Tournament. Always coming second to the Earth’s greatest hero. He also had a rickety old desk, that still had some old books of his on it… There was also his closet, filled with clothes of his from long ago, and a box of “genuine Mister Satan artifacts” that he’d looked for on “archaeology missions”. Oh, and the bed he was on. Twin-sized, and covered by a blanket that was emblazoned with the Satan Legend school’s symbol.
Speenatch looked down, pointing his eyes at the reddish-colored carpeting without actually looking at it. He then pulled his shades off, putting them in a pocket on his vest. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen, there was only a sad frown on his lips. ‘Maybe I should just give it up. I can’t hold a candle to anyone I’ve met. And no matter how hard I’ve tried, every “fight” has been me getting my keister handed to me…’
As he glanced at her side of the room, where some poster for a singer that hadn’t been relevant since he was in high-school was hanging. Right alongside some paper emblazoned with a police recruitment slogan from a “Career Day” that had happened long ago. He also glanced to her dresser, and her desk… which he remembered watching her fix up and repair. A desk that had last been organized long ago, without that system ever being broken. Everything on it had a place, and it was in it. Finally, he looked to her bed, where a pressed and folded police uniform lay. Right on top of a bed that had probably been made that morning. Tears started to well up in his brown eyes and he flopped back onto his bed.
“It’s not fair… Not at all…”, he muttered to himself as he spread out over the twin-sized mattress of the bedframe. His eyes closed, partially because of how blurry his sight was becoming, “I trained so hard… I worked myself half to death every day….”
‘That doesn’t mean ya know what you were doing, squirt.’ He opened his eyes, rapidly looking around. Was that… Was that Savoya’s voice? His sister?
“Who said that? S-Sis..? That you? You there…?”
‘Only in yer dreams, squirt.’
Speenatch growled and bristled at that old nickname. His confusion temporarily forgotten. “I’ve told you to stop callin’ me that nearly a hundred times!”
‘And I might just be a product of your imagination, so whatever I’m sayin’, yer actually sayin’ to yerself… squirt.’
Speenatch took a deep breath, and let it all out in a low growl, before crossing his arms as he sat up. He then noticed that the ceiling was a bit taller than it had been before he closed his eyes. And his muscles were gone… so were his normal clothes. He was just wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts now, his usual sleepwear when growing up. And across from him, sat a full-grown woman. One with the same brown hair, the same brown eyes as him… but a far lighter skin-tone. And way less hair. And more curves. Oh, she was also wearing a police uniform.
“…Okay, now what the heck’s goin on?”, he said, in a voice that was far smaller than the one he’d been using a moment ago. “…Because I have the body of a ten year old and yer an adult… and ya were only five years older than me.”
Without opening her mouth, the woman responded. ‘Yer dreamin, num-nutz. Ya feel like a kid again cause yer in mom’s house and ya got schooled outside.’ Her lips turned up into a smile at her pun as she continued. ‘Sides, ya were cryin’ and sulkin’ like a kid just a moment ago.’
With a most childish tone to his childish voice, Speenatch replied, “Nuh-uh.[/color]” He then opened his eyes wide as he realized what he just said. And with his new-found awareness, he prevented himself from crossing his little arms. “Well okay, maybe. But I might as well be a kid when kids can kick my ass without even trying.”
‘Maybe but-’
“Could ya speak with yer mouth, Savoya? I get that this is a dream, but… It’s real weird…”
Savoya, for her part, rolled her eyes before acquiescing to Speenatch’s request. “Alright, alright, squirt… Now, as I was gonna say… Those kids might be able to kick yer ass now, but so could any chump before ya learned how to fight.”
“ Whaddya mean, sis?”
“Well, think of it this way… Ya didn’t even know ki was a thing ‘till some guy came in and taught ya about it. And ya didn’t know how ta throw a punch until ya took those classes at the rec…”
Speenatch looked down at his little hand, before clenching it into a fist. A proper one, like he’d been taught. Thumb on the outside. He also remembered the first time he’d ever thrown a punch… and it had been a wrong one. He’d been dumb and put his thumb INSIDE of his fingers, wrapping them around it. Nearly broke the thing as badly as he broke that punk’s nose.
“So what yer sayin’ is… it ain’t enough ta train myself. In order to get stronger, I need a teacher!”
Savoya nodded her head, then tipped her blue hat off to him. “Yessir indeedly. Ya just gotta find someone that can help ya get stronger. And maybe push yaself more.”
Speenatch nodded, feeling a bit bigger. And hairier. That’s because he was back to his adult form. “YEAH! I just gotta push myself harder, and find someone to teach me more!”
He stood up, rushing across the dream room to hug the dream-version of his sister with his dream body. “Thanks sis! I owe ya!”
His hug was returned by the taller, but slimmer woman. Her arms wrapped around him as she replied, “Yeah ya do… Now wake up bro.”
Speenatch had just enough time to try say, “Wait wha-?”, before he awoke again. His eyes slowly opened… then blinked a few times. Then, they opened properly wide and he quickly sat his ass up off the bed. Those same brown eyes then glanced over to his sister’s bed… there was no Savoya there now. Just a folded uniform.
The man then stood himself up and out of bed, slipping back into his pink boots. A quick glance was given over to the empty bed, along with a gentle pat to the hat of the empty uniform. “Thanks sis, I’ll try to visit more…”
With that, he turned and exited the room... gently closing the door behind him. He had to get himself out there. He had to find someone to take his training to the next level. And most of all, he needed better training gear.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But first, Speenatch walked out into the main living space of the apartment… which managed to be a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one. Very cozy. Not very easy to get around in when it was crowded. Luckily, based on the position of the sun, it was midday. Which meant his parents were both at work for quite a few more hours.
He’d already gotten the groceries for the week yesterday… maybe he’d cook up something so they’d have dinner waiting when they got back. It wasn’t every week that he visited, after all.. And he wanted to take care of his parents for once, instead of it being the other way around. He resolved on making something tasty, like chicken quinoa! That’d be something good! Though, he hadn’t gotten all of the ingredients for it that he needed.
This meant he had to visit the market! Maybe the outdoor one… They always had something fresh! Once more, he made sure not to wear his “trademarked” gi (which others seemed to find garish). Instead, he opted for remaining in his denim outfit. The one with the dark brown t-shirt, and the blue, denim jeans and (sleeveless) vest. He still wore his shades, though. And his pink boots.
After a quick double-check for his wallet, the spare set of keys, and the pre-paid comm device he’d picked up the other day, Speenatch was out the door... He was soon back inside it to grab a canvas bag. Then he was out the door. Which left him in the Great Outside, as the complex was set up so each door led out onto an open-air walkway. One which had a few staircases leading up. However, the man didn’t need to bother with such an effort when he could simply hop over the safety railing to the walkway and float down the three floors he needed to travel to the ground.
‘Man I love bein’ able to fly…’ As he thought this to himself, Speenatch decided to simply walk the rest of the way to the market. Even if he loved flying, he also knew doing it for every bit of travelling was probably a bit of a waste. Besides, Satan City was just as lovely from the ground as it was from the air. If not more so!
His eyes glanced around as he took it all in. He noticed the various apartment blocks, all scattered around, each bearing some sort of mural portraying the city’s namesake, or graffiti. Though to be fair, the graffiti was often quite nice and artsy, not just a tag. Then there were the little shops and businesses tucked between larger buildings, or on the bottom floor of something larger. All of them family-owned, bearing some title like, “Boribapper’s Boiled Rice” or “Arrozcon’s Groceries”. All in all, it was a pretty nice neighborhood. A little worn down, a little rough around the edges… but a good place to grow up. Even now, a year after the Saiyan invasion! Why, one could hardly believ-
Speenatch stopped all forward motion and all train of thought. The reason? He caught site of a building that had been smashed up. It had been made of shiny, white-painted bricks once. And it had been old. That much was apparent by the copper pipes that were sticking out at odd angles, and the wooden beams being used to support the flooring. Nobody used that in construction anymore, at least not outside of rich districts or private projects. Then again, nobody used Saiyan pods either, and that had clearly once been nestled in the center of the building. After tearing the dang thing down.
He actually recognized the place. It had been… not an apartment block. No, it’d been one of those little office buildings. The sort that hosted a few different professions that each had a practice with its own space. Like the family’s old friend… a lawyer that had gone to school with his dad back in the day. Not law school. They’d had the same homeroom teachers for a few years during their early years. He wondered where that fellow was now. Had he even survived? Why hadn’t Speenatch checked in on things…?
He turned right away from the building after a good few minutes of staring. ‘No-no-no. I’m tryin’ to be happy today. Move on and alla that jazz. I ain’t gonna dwell on that today.’
And he didn’t. He just turned around, and continued walking. Away from the destruction, away from the past. All while trying not to focus on the fact that he would have to walk right past that building on the way back. Instead, he focused on the sky. The wonderful, blue sky, where the sun was shining so brightly… with a few clouds to fill up the empty expanse. He could stare up at it all day. While whistling! Narrowly avoiding being run into by a car nixed his plan for that, though. Then he had to at least pretend to focus on his surroundings. And probably actually focus on them a little bit.
The rest of the walk to the market passed by so quickly. More buildings, more people in the streets. Crosswalks and cars. They all just jumbled together into one concrete-colored blur. At least until a little extra color came into view…
Reds, blues, greens, and plenty of people and zoans. Based off of the sights, and the smells that ran the gamut from “food” to “porta-potty that hasn’t been changed in three weeks”, Speenatch had made it to the outdoor market.
‘Man, good thing the weather’s so nice today. Otherwise, I’d have had to fly what… to three different places?’
As he gave that mental pat on the back to himself, he began to wander through. So many stalls. So many folding tables and vans. Some seemed to just be average joes and jills looking to get some money for selling old junk or the products of their vegetable gardens. Others… Others were zoans and humans that actually made a living off of this place. Farmers and pickers that sold produce and junk respectively…
They usually had the best stuff, so Speenatch decided to peruse. He looked over old trading cards, a few books about Mister Satan… all texts that he’d already read. Then there was the junk, tech both old and new that he could barely make heads or tails of. At least when it was in the form of old components and machines that people didn’t make anymore.
And that was about it. A blur of browsing, punctuated by the occasional ingredient that he needed. A good deal on tomatoes and peppers… some nice, organically grown garlic… onions… And of course, the all-important quinoa. Which was vitally necessary for “chicken quinoa”. Hence the name.
With his purchases all done. And the recipe in his mind, Speenatch was about ready to go. But… as he made his way out… he couldn’t help but be drawn to one stand in particular. One where a rather short man was standing. Well, no… “man” was the wrong term. This was a cat. A black cat with a “mustache” made from grooming his whiskers just so. He also had a nice hat. It was tall, purple, and had a wide brim. Underneath were yellow eyes, with slitted pupils… Then there was a purple trench coat that he (…she? …they?) wore over their body. The stand had the same shade of purple for the awning.
‘I’m sensin’ a motif of some sort here…’
He decided to give the stand a glance, looking at the name hanging above it as he walked up towards it. It read, “The Amazing Whisker’s Magical Artifacts!” And there was a tagline there, too. “Whiskering you away to new heights!” Speenatch gave a nod of appreciation. Both to the pun, and to the cool stuff on display!
Though he only had a moment to let his shaded eyes look things over before the cat piped up. In an accent that one could only recognize as “not from here”.
“Ah, good day to you sir! I see you arrrrrre a man of… His eyes gave Speenatch and his (relatively “tame”) outfit a once over, “…different tastes… Does anything herrrrrrre interrrrest you perrrrrhaps?”
Speenatch looked at the cat, then back down to the table. On it he saw all sorts of things. From crystal balls, to wands, to decks of tarot cards. None of them really caught his eye. Instead… he gravitated to what appeared to be a set of… four bracelets? All of them were made out of some sort of black material, though he couldn’t tell if it was metal or not. What he could tell was that they were black as the void. As in, the same color as the portions of the night-sky between stars. An inky black that did not shine or reflect any of the light that was spilling onto the bracelets. Not even when he took of his shades to look at them directly. That was a bit weird… As were the oval-shaped, yellow gems in the center of them. And the lack of any seams or mechanisms to open them up.
As he moved his shades to rest on his forehead, revealing his lovely, brown eyes, he spoke up to the cat. “Well these things look purty nice. What uh… what are they?”
“Ohohohoho… You have a keen eye, therrrrre sirrr. These arrrrre but frrrrrragments of a legend…” The cat glanced from side to side after lifting up the brim of his hat. As if to ensure nobody around was listening… and truth be told, nobody but Speenatch was. Only when he seemed sure did the little black cat continue…. “Once, long ago, therrrre was a powerful king. A demon that conquerrrred entire nations and theirrrr arrrrmies by himself. Acrrrross the rrrrealm of demons… then the Earrrth… and supposedly on otherrrr worrrrlds acrrrross the starrrrs. But he found no solace. Everrrry victorrrry he gained was won so easily. Everrry battle was a chorrrre instead of a challenge. He wanted a rrrreal victorrrry. One that was won thrrrrough sweat and valorrrr.”
At that point in the story, the strange little zoan stood up off of the stool he’d been sitting on. He then moved to stand behind it, before placing a paw-like foot upon it for a “dramatic” pose. Something to really sell the tale. He also dropped the “r” rolling, which really called into question his choice to do so earlier. If it wasn’t a verbal tic, why did he-?
“But he knew not how to find this. Until one day… as he wandered the realm of the spirits, he came upon a lump of strange metal. It was pure black, the color of a void. And as he drew close, he felt his strength ebb. Any lesser power would have been eliminated completely… but he remained. Though far less strong. With what remained of his power, he carried this lump of metal all the way back to his castle… Where he had the finest smiths and greatest wizards from all across the world forge him a set of armor. Armor, not to protect him… but to limit him. To contain his power.” He pointed a hand to the three bracelets still upon the table, “And from the destroyed remains of his armor, these four weights were made to tra-…” His eyes opened wide as he noticed one of the weighted bands was missing. The cat then nervously glanced and felt all around the table as he desperately searched for it. He overturned “magical” artifacts with reckless abandon and scattered “rare” gems all around in his search for it. However, he didn’t find it on the table.
Instead, it was in Speenatch’s hand. The stout man had picked up one of the bands and was giving it a more thorough inspection up close. While also trying to find any sort of mechanism or latch for opening the dang thing up. He couldn’t find one at all, no button to press, no switch to flip, no keyhole for him to unlock.
“Yeah, but how do I get this thing on?”
“I was getting to that you… you….” The zoan sighed before pinching his little cat-snout… “Potential customer…” After taking another deep breath, and letting out another sigh, the strange cat-man then put on a smile. The “r” rolling also returned. “As I was going to say, eventually, in orrrrderrrr to put on the weights, one must rrrrub the gems which bind them closed. But I warrrrn you, only one which they rrrrecognize as worrrthy can-”
A clicking noise entered the cat’s ears. The reason? Speenatch had rubbed the gem as soon as he was told to, and the bracelet had opened. Just like that. What followed was another click as he locked it into place on his wrist. Just by slapping it on. It even fit perfectly! As if it had molded itself to the shape of his wrist right after he put it on. All while “The Amazing Whiskers” watched on in shock.
Speenatch didn’t really notice, though. He just tested the weight of the band. It didn’t feel too bad. He could definitely feel it, and it was enough to mess up his timing… but he wasn’t impaired. The whole set would make for a great training aid!
“’Ey, how much fer the set of the uh… weighted bands?”
Whiskers got over his shock as he sensed a sale. A sale that would rid him of some items he had been unable to carry for three days. And which he suspected to be cursed. His eyes closed, he smiled… and he held up a single finger.
“Forrr you my frrriend? Only one thousand Zeni! Quite a deal, if I do say so myself!”
Speenatch narrowed his eyes… he wasn’t too sure. After all, that was almost all of his remaining money. And he could probably get similar weights for less! However, he was forced to agree with the price by virtue of being unable to take the band off. At all. No matter how hard he tried.
And so he walked back to his apartment, weighed down by his lack of funds… and by the four bands he was now wearing. One on each wrist and ankle. ‘Well…’, Speenatch thought to himself as he pulled his shades back over his eyes. ‘…it ain’t the worst purchase I’ve ever made.’
He would come to debate that statement someday. Very heavily. Though not on that day. On that day, he went home to cook...
((WC: 3880 words))