Post by Trouza on Dec 7, 2016 8:10:08 GMT
Somewhere in a bar in a village in the western desert, a hooded man was slumped across a table, nursing what was left of his lukewarm yellow liquid from his mug. No one minded him aside from the waif of a bartender glancing his way every now and then, though whether it was because she found him handsome and exotic, some strong foreign warrior who would sweep her off her feet, or whether she was irked by his overstayed welcome, he wasn’t sure. He was way past his 17th bottle and half blind from the haze.
Thoughts of home haunted the man’s mind. Trouza hasn’t come home to the Southern Islands ever since he left his father’s made men. Back there, he was treated like some royalty, living in the lap of luxury. Maids and maidens both came running to his every need, and if ever there was a problem with someone all he had to do was send his father’s hitmen to take care of it. Was life really easier then? Would he have been happy being a mob underling under his father?
Ever since he and his first martial arts master went their separate ways, the fledgling martial artist wanted to satisfy his hunger for training and self-improvement. Master Zheng taught him the discipline and training his father often neglected in him, and he wanted to stand up for himself. He went on a spiritual and martial pilgrimage across Earth, visiting cultural meccas, holy mountains and treasure coves. Along the way he came across villages where he helped the villagers with their problems; bandits, werebears and the occasional zombie outbreak, as well as dodging his father’s hitmen every now and then. He was satisfied with improving himself and getting stronger for awhile.
The years of doing the same things over and over again however; meeting the same kind of people, taking care of their menial problems, fighting against brutes that fall to one punch, and false promises of treasure, power and strength took a toll on him as well as his wallet. He lived destitute most of the time, hungry and still on the run. He was used to not staying in one village for fear of getting stabbed while he was sleeping. This particular night, one of those visitors managed to catch up to him. Entering the bar with heavy steps was an otherworldly being, not unlike the zoanthropes and aliens Earth was particularly used to. Trouza didn’t mind until the alien cast a shadow across his table and was standing right at his side.
"You got a problem with me, wise guy?" Trouza spat at the glaring perpetrator. He was slightly out of shape, having spent several nights in the village where he was told there was supposed to be a holy oasis whose waters would increase one’s strength tenfold. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back for him, having had several consecutive false leads and dead ends already.
"Your father sends –"
"-Yeah, yeah, his regards. Did you all enter the same goon school with the same teacher who taught you to greet that way?" the martial artist snidely interrupted.
Taken aback but mostly annoyed the alien with no nose wasn’t able to deliver his line in a cool manner, the alien grabbed him by the neck of his hood and with little effort threw him through the adobe window covered only by wooden railings. Before Trouza knew it, all he could hear was a loud crack across his back and a high pitched scream from behind the bar. It was enough to snap him out of his drunken state and get up off his back. Composing himself and his vision, he could see the dust settling from his landing and the figure coming toward him from behind the dust with a robotic-like movement like he was determined to exterminate his prey. He could see clearer now the alien’s form; muscular with a silvery sheen to his body, not unlike the arcosians he heard about from the last war on Earth.
"Surrender" the cold figure uttered as he clenched his fists.
"Okay, calm down, fella." Trouza tried to reason with raised hands. Looking at any spectators around who might get hurt he was able to see the bartender clearer now and more attractive. She was scared from the commotion peering out of her establishment. "Maybe we can talk this out? You even broke the lady’s window."
The alien was by now incensed by Trouza’s aloofness and goofy antics. Charging ki on his fingertip, he utters "No one makes a fool of me, earthling, and no one interrupts Intergalactic Hitman Mauser!"
The ki blast was quick and it would’ve punched through Trouza like a hot knife through butter, if Trouza wasn’t already a few steps running towards Mauser. As he was about to lunge a right hook at the alien, Mauser shot another ki blast right in Trouza’s gut but was met with an afterimage and an elbow to the back of the neck, launching the alien a few feet across the sand causing another cloud of dust.
"Nothing I couldn’t handle, miss." Trouza shrugged and looked back at the waitress with machismo. A split second later the assassin, unscathed came out of the dust cloud. The fuming alien grabbed Trouza’s head with his large three-fingered hand and slammed him on the cantina wall.
"Mr. Slack’s patience is wearing thin, boy. He paid me a hefty sum to come here and tell you to get back to your father immediately. He doesn’t want to send me a second time to remind you." Mauser bellowed while the creature breathed heavily. With heavy frustration the creature followed up with a flurry of blows to Trouza’s gut before leaving the man knocked out senseless.
Waking up with heavy bandages on a bed, the first thing he saw with his hazy vision was the bartender and a little boy washing dishes from a sink. The boy was the first to notice Trouza waking up and tugged at what appears to be his mother’s dress.
"Well, you’re awake." The woman quipped while went to Trouza’s side to check his wounds. Seeing Trouza recover steadily, she added, "-And you’ve made quite a mess of my livelihood."
All Trouza could do was smile weakly; he was barely alive, but he was also revitalized. Not only was he left alive to live and fight another day, and that a pretty woman was nursing him back to health despite probably owing her a hefty sum, but also the realization that what he was looking for during his years-long pilgrimage for strength and power will not end any time soon. His father, probably losing more patience than Mauser did, even sent alien headhunters now to hunt him down, and there are even more powerful beings and creatures beyond the stars. It won’t always be the same chores and weak enemies, and every inch of training would matter in the long run. He was bruised, but excited. Maybe he would find the masters he so long promised himself back then to train under, or pay a visit to South City and find out what his father wanted. Whatever he was planning, the whole world just got a little bigger.
Thoughts of home haunted the man’s mind. Trouza hasn’t come home to the Southern Islands ever since he left his father’s made men. Back there, he was treated like some royalty, living in the lap of luxury. Maids and maidens both came running to his every need, and if ever there was a problem with someone all he had to do was send his father’s hitmen to take care of it. Was life really easier then? Would he have been happy being a mob underling under his father?
Ever since he and his first martial arts master went their separate ways, the fledgling martial artist wanted to satisfy his hunger for training and self-improvement. Master Zheng taught him the discipline and training his father often neglected in him, and he wanted to stand up for himself. He went on a spiritual and martial pilgrimage across Earth, visiting cultural meccas, holy mountains and treasure coves. Along the way he came across villages where he helped the villagers with their problems; bandits, werebears and the occasional zombie outbreak, as well as dodging his father’s hitmen every now and then. He was satisfied with improving himself and getting stronger for awhile.
The years of doing the same things over and over again however; meeting the same kind of people, taking care of their menial problems, fighting against brutes that fall to one punch, and false promises of treasure, power and strength took a toll on him as well as his wallet. He lived destitute most of the time, hungry and still on the run. He was used to not staying in one village for fear of getting stabbed while he was sleeping. This particular night, one of those visitors managed to catch up to him. Entering the bar with heavy steps was an otherworldly being, not unlike the zoanthropes and aliens Earth was particularly used to. Trouza didn’t mind until the alien cast a shadow across his table and was standing right at his side.
"You got a problem with me, wise guy?" Trouza spat at the glaring perpetrator. He was slightly out of shape, having spent several nights in the village where he was told there was supposed to be a holy oasis whose waters would increase one’s strength tenfold. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back for him, having had several consecutive false leads and dead ends already.
"Your father sends –"
"-Yeah, yeah, his regards. Did you all enter the same goon school with the same teacher who taught you to greet that way?" the martial artist snidely interrupted.
Taken aback but mostly annoyed the alien with no nose wasn’t able to deliver his line in a cool manner, the alien grabbed him by the neck of his hood and with little effort threw him through the adobe window covered only by wooden railings. Before Trouza knew it, all he could hear was a loud crack across his back and a high pitched scream from behind the bar. It was enough to snap him out of his drunken state and get up off his back. Composing himself and his vision, he could see the dust settling from his landing and the figure coming toward him from behind the dust with a robotic-like movement like he was determined to exterminate his prey. He could see clearer now the alien’s form; muscular with a silvery sheen to his body, not unlike the arcosians he heard about from the last war on Earth.
"Surrender" the cold figure uttered as he clenched his fists.
"Okay, calm down, fella." Trouza tried to reason with raised hands. Looking at any spectators around who might get hurt he was able to see the bartender clearer now and more attractive. She was scared from the commotion peering out of her establishment. "Maybe we can talk this out? You even broke the lady’s window."
The alien was by now incensed by Trouza’s aloofness and goofy antics. Charging ki on his fingertip, he utters "No one makes a fool of me, earthling, and no one interrupts Intergalactic Hitman Mauser!"
The ki blast was quick and it would’ve punched through Trouza like a hot knife through butter, if Trouza wasn’t already a few steps running towards Mauser. As he was about to lunge a right hook at the alien, Mauser shot another ki blast right in Trouza’s gut but was met with an afterimage and an elbow to the back of the neck, launching the alien a few feet across the sand causing another cloud of dust.
"Nothing I couldn’t handle, miss." Trouza shrugged and looked back at the waitress with machismo. A split second later the assassin, unscathed came out of the dust cloud. The fuming alien grabbed Trouza’s head with his large three-fingered hand and slammed him on the cantina wall.
"Mr. Slack’s patience is wearing thin, boy. He paid me a hefty sum to come here and tell you to get back to your father immediately. He doesn’t want to send me a second time to remind you." Mauser bellowed while the creature breathed heavily. With heavy frustration the creature followed up with a flurry of blows to Trouza’s gut before leaving the man knocked out senseless.
Waking up with heavy bandages on a bed, the first thing he saw with his hazy vision was the bartender and a little boy washing dishes from a sink. The boy was the first to notice Trouza waking up and tugged at what appears to be his mother’s dress.
"Well, you’re awake." The woman quipped while went to Trouza’s side to check his wounds. Seeing Trouza recover steadily, she added, "-And you’ve made quite a mess of my livelihood."
All Trouza could do was smile weakly; he was barely alive, but he was also revitalized. Not only was he left alive to live and fight another day, and that a pretty woman was nursing him back to health despite probably owing her a hefty sum, but also the realization that what he was looking for during his years-long pilgrimage for strength and power will not end any time soon. His father, probably losing more patience than Mauser did, even sent alien headhunters now to hunt him down, and there are even more powerful beings and creatures beyond the stars. It won’t always be the same chores and weak enemies, and every inch of training would matter in the long run. He was bruised, but excited. Maybe he would find the masters he so long promised himself back then to train under, or pay a visit to South City and find out what his father wanted. Whatever he was planning, the whole world just got a little bigger.