Post by Vocado on Feb 25, 2017 9:51:10 GMT
A small bar on the edge of the sea. It was nameless, or at least, Vocado hadn't bothered to read the sign out front. It was relatively empty right now; most people were out and about due to the news on everyone's tongues. A new empire had sprouted up overnight across the Galaxy, and apparently they had enough power packed behind their fists to kill General Mayze of all people. Nothing was confirmed of course. It was all rumors slipping from tongues that'd heard tales from people who said they'd met refugees from Namek. Vocado didn't want to believe it, but maybe it was true.
The Disgraced Captain Vocado grimaced to himself as the jukebox turned on. He gripped the glass in his right hand tighter, looking down at the liquid inside. It was a murky brown color, and despite its muddy texture, he could still see himself in the reflection. His hair was long and disheveled, and he'd grown quite the heavy beard. Had he been off duty so long already? In the corner of the reflection, he caught a glimpse of his own gear: The left pauldron had been cracked in half, and cuts and scrapes dotted the white chestplate. His cape was missing too; he couldn't remember how it went missing, but if he had to guess, he probably sold it for extra booze cash. If his old self could see him now, he'd get a kick in the ass for being so pitiful.
"Don't forget the tab you owe, slimeball."
Vocado turned his eyes up, catching sight of the bartender. He was a young boy, far too young to own his own place, at least in Earthling eyes. To a Saiyan like Vocado or the bartender, it wasn't really an issue. As long as the boy could fight for himself, he could own a bar. There were whispers around Shikk about the boy. Apparently he used to be a prince on Vegeta. Vocado didn't care much; the kid was tough, sure, but as long as the drinks came in, the brat could have been an Arcosian Empire spy and he wouldn't give a damn.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll get to it. You know I'm good for it ... Just keep em' comin'."
With one last look at his nameless drink, Vocado downed the lot of it. The alcohol burned his throat like fire, but he'd gotten used to it by now. This particular drink was a favorite of his. He'd been drinking it for the last week now, yet he still never got the name of it. Maybe he'd ask some other day.
The bartender grabbed a glass from the opposite end of the bar, and began to clean it with a dirty rag, wiping away the muck and grime from whomever used it last. Vocado reached over the bar and poured himself another round.
"You hear the news?" the Bartender asked, intent on making idle conversation, "They say those greenskins from Namek got organized. They're lookin' for a fight. I really hope a pack of em comes here; I'd love to hang one on the wall."
Vocado sighed, drinking from his glass before he replied. "Sounds like too much trouble."
"Of course you of all people would think that, mud-ball." The Bartender hocked a load of spit into the glass he was cleaning, rubbing it along the inside of the cup as he continued. "It's a good thing you tip well when you actually find the time to pay, or else your ass woulda been in the dirt a long time ago."
The door to the bar swung open for the first time today. Vocado turned to see the new face, groaning when he saw who it was. It was one of his old subordinates on Knutts. The fish-lipped Zoonian known as Big Zam smirked when he saw Vocado.
"Thought I might find you here."
Big Zam walked over, taking a seat next to Vocado. The Saiyan Captain spit off to the side, before turning to Zam. "How the hell did you figure out where I was? I never told anyone I left."
The Zoon chuckled, pointing to the scouter on his own face. "You forgot to turn off your Scouter. I tracked you down pretty quick."
Vocado sighed, glancing down at the leather pouch tied to his belt. He almost forgot about that stupid machine. "Of course... Just another screw-up to add to the list." The Saiyan downed his drink again, before pouring another round. "Want one? We can celebrate the coming end of the Solar Empire."
Big Zam shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm off the stuff. I never handled liquor too well."
They sat together in silence for a while. It was awkward.
"So you two gonna kiss or are you gonna get the hell outta my bar? I don't let non-paying fish-faces stink up the place."
"Right. Sorry. We should get going. C'mon Vocado."
Zam made his way to the door of the bar, his hand pressing against it. He turned back to Vocado. The Saiyan was still in his seat, drinking his troubles away. "Vocado... Come on, man. You can't keep doing this. The Empire will need a brilliant strategist like you!"
"..."
He downed another drink.
"...Vocado, please. The boys at Knutts miss ya!"
Another one.
"I don't work on Knutts anymore. Mayze reassigned me before he croaked. Never got to find out what my new job was though..."
One more drink. This one went down hard. He was hitting the wall.
Big Zam sighed, slamming his fist into the wall, which incited a dirty look from the bartender. "Fine! You want to waste away here, you go ahead and do it. I'll see you in hell." Without another word, Zam pushed the door open, and slammed it closed behind him.
"..."
Just one more.
The Disgraced Captain Vocado grimaced to himself as the jukebox turned on. He gripped the glass in his right hand tighter, looking down at the liquid inside. It was a murky brown color, and despite its muddy texture, he could still see himself in the reflection. His hair was long and disheveled, and he'd grown quite the heavy beard. Had he been off duty so long already? In the corner of the reflection, he caught a glimpse of his own gear: The left pauldron had been cracked in half, and cuts and scrapes dotted the white chestplate. His cape was missing too; he couldn't remember how it went missing, but if he had to guess, he probably sold it for extra booze cash. If his old self could see him now, he'd get a kick in the ass for being so pitiful.
"Don't forget the tab you owe, slimeball."
Vocado turned his eyes up, catching sight of the bartender. He was a young boy, far too young to own his own place, at least in Earthling eyes. To a Saiyan like Vocado or the bartender, it wasn't really an issue. As long as the boy could fight for himself, he could own a bar. There were whispers around Shikk about the boy. Apparently he used to be a prince on Vegeta. Vocado didn't care much; the kid was tough, sure, but as long as the drinks came in, the brat could have been an Arcosian Empire spy and he wouldn't give a damn.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll get to it. You know I'm good for it ... Just keep em' comin'."
With one last look at his nameless drink, Vocado downed the lot of it. The alcohol burned his throat like fire, but he'd gotten used to it by now. This particular drink was a favorite of his. He'd been drinking it for the last week now, yet he still never got the name of it. Maybe he'd ask some other day.
The bartender grabbed a glass from the opposite end of the bar, and began to clean it with a dirty rag, wiping away the muck and grime from whomever used it last. Vocado reached over the bar and poured himself another round.
"You hear the news?" the Bartender asked, intent on making idle conversation, "They say those greenskins from Namek got organized. They're lookin' for a fight. I really hope a pack of em comes here; I'd love to hang one on the wall."
Vocado sighed, drinking from his glass before he replied. "Sounds like too much trouble."
"Of course you of all people would think that, mud-ball." The Bartender hocked a load of spit into the glass he was cleaning, rubbing it along the inside of the cup as he continued. "It's a good thing you tip well when you actually find the time to pay, or else your ass woulda been in the dirt a long time ago."
The door to the bar swung open for the first time today. Vocado turned to see the new face, groaning when he saw who it was. It was one of his old subordinates on Knutts. The fish-lipped Zoonian known as Big Zam smirked when he saw Vocado.
"Thought I might find you here."
Big Zam walked over, taking a seat next to Vocado. The Saiyan Captain spit off to the side, before turning to Zam. "How the hell did you figure out where I was? I never told anyone I left."
The Zoon chuckled, pointing to the scouter on his own face. "You forgot to turn off your Scouter. I tracked you down pretty quick."
Vocado sighed, glancing down at the leather pouch tied to his belt. He almost forgot about that stupid machine. "Of course... Just another screw-up to add to the list." The Saiyan downed his drink again, before pouring another round. "Want one? We can celebrate the coming end of the Solar Empire."
Big Zam shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm off the stuff. I never handled liquor too well."
They sat together in silence for a while. It was awkward.
"So you two gonna kiss or are you gonna get the hell outta my bar? I don't let non-paying fish-faces stink up the place."
"Right. Sorry. We should get going. C'mon Vocado."
Zam made his way to the door of the bar, his hand pressing against it. He turned back to Vocado. The Saiyan was still in his seat, drinking his troubles away. "Vocado... Come on, man. You can't keep doing this. The Empire will need a brilliant strategist like you!"
"..."
He downed another drink.
"...Vocado, please. The boys at Knutts miss ya!"
Another one.
"I don't work on Knutts anymore. Mayze reassigned me before he croaked. Never got to find out what my new job was though..."
One more drink. This one went down hard. He was hitting the wall.
Big Zam sighed, slamming his fist into the wall, which incited a dirty look from the bartender. "Fine! You want to waste away here, you go ahead and do it. I'll see you in hell." Without another word, Zam pushed the door open, and slammed it closed behind him.
"..."
Just one more.