Post by Kasio on Jun 16, 2017 7:30:05 GMT
The streets were alive with sound, from the rain, to vendors hawking their wares, to the thrumming sounds of all manner of vehicles passing, even the sounds of the citizens as they went about their business in the seedy locale that was the Raiti-Zacro Asteroid. The asteroid had retained much of it’s local “flavor,” even despite the recent takeover by the Mazoku Dominion, which had managed to strong arm the asteroid into their control, though it was more a token acquisition than anything. In truth, the crime lords of the small pseudo-world were permitted to retain control in any way they saw fit, so long as they all knew who was in control, Xylo. But this is not a story about the Dominion, any of it’s many soldiers, or even it’s illustrious namekian lord.
Neon lights danced throughout the dark night sky as one helmeted rider of a particularly flamboyant motorbike sped through the streets. It’s engine roared throughout one of the deeper craters that marked the surface of the backwater pseudo-world. Pulling up just outside a bar called “The Shape Shifter,” the motor bike halted it’s drive and it’s rider stepped off the bike, clad in bright, eye-catching colors and armed with a sword resting at her hip. The rider reached up to pull the helmet off of their head, revealing long hair, shaved off on her left side, and the telling ears of a konatsian. Leaving her helmet behind, the swordgirl headed inside the divey cantina where thugs, thieves, and hooligans of all walks of life came to drink and rub shoulders with one another. And amidst all this, the foot falls of the newcomer’s boots went unnoticed as she made her way toward the back of the bar, where a lone, unused jukebox lay, unattended and playing something reminiscent of earthling Folk music. The rider slipped in a credit chip as they began to cycle through the selection of music, before finally finding something they liked, and hitting the play button.
She’d paid the extra price to have her song prioritized, skipping the previous selection entirely. The konatsian had a rather pleased expression resting on her face as she nodded her head and tapped her heel along to the beat, but just as she turned around to head toward the bar and get a drink, a large man stood in her way. The imposing figure glared down at her, having quite the sour expression resting on his visage. The figure in question belonged to a tall heran man. The man was dressed in a drab wife-beater tank, complete with stains of all sorts of colors one could only begin to speculate the origin of, cargo pants, and combat boots.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing little lady? You interrupted my song- to play this shit, and you skipped my friend’s as well. Where do you get off doing that, huh?”
A shove came from the heran as he intended to intimidate the girl, a sheepish grin and placating eyes lit up as the Konatsian girl tried her best to keep a calm demeanor. She could also make out the previously mentioned “friend,” who was standing about a foot behind the first scum bag who seemed far too aggressive for a simple change in ambience. He too was of heran origin.
“Whoa-o, hey, I had no idea. Once my song’s finished your bud can have his shot.”
She spoke quickly and in as respectful a tone she could. Unfortunately for her, her words fell on deaf ears which belonged to a face that stared daggers right back. The man behind the first began cracking his knuckles and chuckling to himself, which didn’t escape the notice of the armed konatsian woman, her eyes narrowing at this development before returning to the first.
“You think you can just roll into here and do whatever you please like you run the place? Me and my boys run this joint, and we don’t take kindly to little upstarts who think they can just do whatever they like.”
And before she could do anything, without warning the man threw a fist for her. The rider’s eyes went wide with shock as she ducked low from the man’s fist before rolling through his legs, thanks to his wide stance, and popped up on the other side. His fist thankfully hadn’t hit the juke box either, so the tunes kept playing, much to the konatsian’s relief. But she couldn’t focus on her song now, as her attacker’s friend threw a fist into her gut just in time for her to catch it with her hands. However, she lacked the weight or power to stop the attack, and ended up being lifted up. Luckily, she was as limber as she was precocious, so as the fist intended to fly up into her gut went upward, she vaulted off the fist and maneuvered her legs up into the air to send a kick back at the one in the tank top.
The surprise blow, all coming from the same motion, sent him tumbling forward and into a table which crashed down around him, sending drinks resting on the table all over him. The resulting damage made the girl wonder if that’s how he got his stains, right before the man she was vaulting off of had a chance to react, she flipped backwards off of his fist and drew out her sword at her hip and swung it towards the man’s right arm. A sudden shock seemed to overtake him, as he watched his fore arm fall clean off his new stump of a shoulder, bone and all.
Just as soon as she’d managed to “disarm” one of her adversaries, the girl began to turn towards her more recently moistened opponent behind her to be met with a large blue fist belonging to said opponent, slamming into her face and sending her reeling back into the disarmed alien, pushing them both to the ground and forcing her sword from her grasp. Quickly trying to get up, she reached for her sword only for it to be kicked aside by the damp fighter who now threw the same boot into her chin. Her neck snapped back and her body followed suit, rolling back into the air until her head was nearly about to hit the ground again, and her legs were in the air. But while without her sword, she was far from unarmed. The stabilizing thrusters in her boots lit up, sending intensely hot plasma into the face of the heran, who let out a loud scream and covered his eyes in agony. The rider then, bloodied in her own right, used her jet-pack feature of her armor and the stabilizing jets in her boots to zip over to her fallen sword, and grab hold of it again.
By this time, the two herans, were heavily injured, though the big, leader one wasn’t willing to stay down. He charged across the cantina at her, eyes bleary and surrounding tissue scarred heavily, unable to see her clearly or that she’d reclaimed her blade. As he got near to her, she whipped her sword through the air, creating a sharp whistle as she cleaved right through the man’s torso, and ending the fight. As the ending note of her song began to play she huffed at the disappointment she’d missed the whole thing because of these guys, and was now out five credits.
“Aww man, now I’ll have to pay to play it again…”
Worse than that, was the feeling in the barkeeper who now looked at the bloody mess left behind by the girl and shouted frantically at her.
“Like hell you will! And you better buy a drink with a hefty tip for the work I’m going to have to do to clean this up!”
“Put it on my tab.”
Came her quick reply, as if she was prepared for it already, or worse: she’d been in this situation before.
“Oh yeah? And just who the hell’s tab would that be?”
A wide, pearly white smile grew over her lips as the girl beamed back at the bartender.
“Kasio.”
Neon lights danced throughout the dark night sky as one helmeted rider of a particularly flamboyant motorbike sped through the streets. It’s engine roared throughout one of the deeper craters that marked the surface of the backwater pseudo-world. Pulling up just outside a bar called “The Shape Shifter,” the motor bike halted it’s drive and it’s rider stepped off the bike, clad in bright, eye-catching colors and armed with a sword resting at her hip. The rider reached up to pull the helmet off of their head, revealing long hair, shaved off on her left side, and the telling ears of a konatsian. Leaving her helmet behind, the swordgirl headed inside the divey cantina where thugs, thieves, and hooligans of all walks of life came to drink and rub shoulders with one another. And amidst all this, the foot falls of the newcomer’s boots went unnoticed as she made her way toward the back of the bar, where a lone, unused jukebox lay, unattended and playing something reminiscent of earthling Folk music. The rider slipped in a credit chip as they began to cycle through the selection of music, before finally finding something they liked, and hitting the play button.
She’d paid the extra price to have her song prioritized, skipping the previous selection entirely. The konatsian had a rather pleased expression resting on her face as she nodded her head and tapped her heel along to the beat, but just as she turned around to head toward the bar and get a drink, a large man stood in her way. The imposing figure glared down at her, having quite the sour expression resting on his visage. The figure in question belonged to a tall heran man. The man was dressed in a drab wife-beater tank, complete with stains of all sorts of colors one could only begin to speculate the origin of, cargo pants, and combat boots.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing little lady? You interrupted my song- to play this shit, and you skipped my friend’s as well. Where do you get off doing that, huh?”
A shove came from the heran as he intended to intimidate the girl, a sheepish grin and placating eyes lit up as the Konatsian girl tried her best to keep a calm demeanor. She could also make out the previously mentioned “friend,” who was standing about a foot behind the first scum bag who seemed far too aggressive for a simple change in ambience. He too was of heran origin.
“Whoa-o, hey, I had no idea. Once my song’s finished your bud can have his shot.”
She spoke quickly and in as respectful a tone she could. Unfortunately for her, her words fell on deaf ears which belonged to a face that stared daggers right back. The man behind the first began cracking his knuckles and chuckling to himself, which didn’t escape the notice of the armed konatsian woman, her eyes narrowing at this development before returning to the first.
“You think you can just roll into here and do whatever you please like you run the place? Me and my boys run this joint, and we don’t take kindly to little upstarts who think they can just do whatever they like.”
And before she could do anything, without warning the man threw a fist for her. The rider’s eyes went wide with shock as she ducked low from the man’s fist before rolling through his legs, thanks to his wide stance, and popped up on the other side. His fist thankfully hadn’t hit the juke box either, so the tunes kept playing, much to the konatsian’s relief. But she couldn’t focus on her song now, as her attacker’s friend threw a fist into her gut just in time for her to catch it with her hands. However, she lacked the weight or power to stop the attack, and ended up being lifted up. Luckily, she was as limber as she was precocious, so as the fist intended to fly up into her gut went upward, she vaulted off the fist and maneuvered her legs up into the air to send a kick back at the one in the tank top.
The surprise blow, all coming from the same motion, sent him tumbling forward and into a table which crashed down around him, sending drinks resting on the table all over him. The resulting damage made the girl wonder if that’s how he got his stains, right before the man she was vaulting off of had a chance to react, she flipped backwards off of his fist and drew out her sword at her hip and swung it towards the man’s right arm. A sudden shock seemed to overtake him, as he watched his fore arm fall clean off his new stump of a shoulder, bone and all.
Just as soon as she’d managed to “disarm” one of her adversaries, the girl began to turn towards her more recently moistened opponent behind her to be met with a large blue fist belonging to said opponent, slamming into her face and sending her reeling back into the disarmed alien, pushing them both to the ground and forcing her sword from her grasp. Quickly trying to get up, she reached for her sword only for it to be kicked aside by the damp fighter who now threw the same boot into her chin. Her neck snapped back and her body followed suit, rolling back into the air until her head was nearly about to hit the ground again, and her legs were in the air. But while without her sword, she was far from unarmed. The stabilizing thrusters in her boots lit up, sending intensely hot plasma into the face of the heran, who let out a loud scream and covered his eyes in agony. The rider then, bloodied in her own right, used her jet-pack feature of her armor and the stabilizing jets in her boots to zip over to her fallen sword, and grab hold of it again.
By this time, the two herans, were heavily injured, though the big, leader one wasn’t willing to stay down. He charged across the cantina at her, eyes bleary and surrounding tissue scarred heavily, unable to see her clearly or that she’d reclaimed her blade. As he got near to her, she whipped her sword through the air, creating a sharp whistle as she cleaved right through the man’s torso, and ending the fight. As the ending note of her song began to play she huffed at the disappointment she’d missed the whole thing because of these guys, and was now out five credits.
“Aww man, now I’ll have to pay to play it again…”
Worse than that, was the feeling in the barkeeper who now looked at the bloody mess left behind by the girl and shouted frantically at her.
“Like hell you will! And you better buy a drink with a hefty tip for the work I’m going to have to do to clean this up!”
“Put it on my tab.”
Came her quick reply, as if she was prepared for it already, or worse: she’d been in this situation before.
“Oh yeah? And just who the hell’s tab would that be?”
A wide, pearly white smile grew over her lips as the girl beamed back at the bartender.
“Kasio.”