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Post by Toshiro Motoyama on Jul 2, 2021 12:28:49 GMT -8
The sun's heat neither knew nor offered any mercy today. A small cloud of icy breath escaped his lips, dissipating into the balmy air before him. His internal systems worked to keep his core body temperature down. There was a beeping sound within his head, and soon he found statistics scrolling across his vision—a detailed optic overlay regarding the temperature, humidity, wind direction, and ozone readings. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, staring through splayed fingers at the bright sunlight beaming down on him. There was hardly a thing he could do without being reminded of the fact that he would never be normal again. Three years time was barely enough to adjust to his newfound reality, but the burning questions of the whereabouts of his father and Dr. Manic pressed heavily on him. He would find the answers he sought. Lowering his hand, the surrounding sights and sounds flooded over him. People milled about everywhere, laughter abundant as children skipped through the crowded streets. The smell of sizzling sausage filled the air. This was a festival all right. His stomach growled, forcing a pained grimace onto his lips. He pressed a hand to his stomach, shaking his head. It was reflexive, a remnant of a life long past. His mechanical body could not feel any actual hunger pains but he still required sustenance. Food required money, and he had none. Hence, volunteering to work security for the festival.
[242]
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Post by Bass on Jul 4, 2021 9:18:21 GMT -8
A festival meant food, and food meant a business opportunity. The Momentum Corporation had boots on the ground long before any props or stands were set up, coordinating with event managers in order to provide jumbo produce for the sellers that'd be there at the parade. For what purpose? On top of a pretty zeni, it was all for the sake of being able to eat the best food possible, of course.
While the World Government were excessively capable of reducing the truth of the Giant Shark to atoms, Bass was there and dealt with it with his own two hands. He was well aware of the threats that really did endanger the people of South City, spikes of power that existed and roamed around the world. So many things just waiting to pop up and try to cause chaos, he found it surprising just how ultimately cursed the Earth was to experience conflict.
Nevertheless, he didn't anticipate that an attack would be coordinated in an event celebrating... A myth, effectively. Now in the grounds of the fair, the Namekian perused the various stands. It was hilarious considering most of them had 'now with JUMBO INGREDIENTS' or some other paraphrasing of that plastered over boards and stands around their shops. There was no denying that the unique composition of jumbo crops packed a more nutritional punch and richer taste.
It was that sort of methodical planning that'd found the Namekian standing right in front of a Burrito Stand. Laid out across its surface were bins for pico de gallo, cilantro, lettuce, onions, olives, sauces, meats, just about everything a burrito would need, all jumbo. In addition to that, the stand was offering jumbo burritos- not only were they made out of jumbo ingredients, but they came in jumbo sizes due to jumbo wheat allowing jumbo tortilla's to hold themselves together.
Of course, most people would have to be absolutely insane to order such a thing. Though targeting marketing and a familiar business sense from the owner of the stand painted Bass and other Martial Artists as potential buyers for the festival- sneaky dog they were, following in The Burrito Bass's footsteps. Of course, nothing would ever quite compare to the original. Regardless, Bass spoke up.
"Alright old man, I'm going to get a jumbo burrito. White bread, refried beans, carne asada... Rice, onions, pico de gallo, cilantro... Cheese, lettuce and... Chipotle sauce please. Thanks a bunch." He said, sliding over more zeni than one in their right mind would ever be willing to pay for a Burrito. Bass was the 1$ of the 1$, along with Duke Luciferous Satan he was one of two Martial Artist's (and Duke wasn't even officially one of them) who were both rich and in the line of fighting.
Letting out a laugh, both owner and worker- something Bass knew quite well, put together the monster sized meal. Sealing it in an iron press just barely, he'd wrap it up in tinfoil and through exchanging the zeni with Bass put it in a bag and held it over to Bass. Even 'jumbo' sized, the Burrito didn't really... Hold up to The Burrito Bass's size standards for Martial Artists, not in the slightest.
Beginning to wander about and check what else was happening at the festival, he'd lock onto a ki signature that wasn't standard in the crowd. Rolling up right next to Toshiro, he'd raise his voice.
"Hey kid, they picked you for security?" As he said such, he'd take a bite out of the burrito.
"Oh, wow, this is actually amazing. Not as good as my place, but maybe I'm just biased." It was an interesting assumption to say the least, labeling Toshiro as security. In truth Bass could tell from the power level he senses combined with the loitering. He had no clue Toshiro was hungry, however. Powerlevel didn't quite indicate something so nuanced.
651 | 893 / 6,000.
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Post by Toshiro Motoyama on Jul 4, 2021 19:28:48 GMT -8
How long had he yearned for something like this? Just a few short years ago, Toshiro's world was nothing more than bland white walls, stale disinfectant, nights of tossing and turning in sweat-fueled nightmares as disease ravaged his frail, sickly form.
Nothing but pitying glances from compassionate nurses as they whispered with doctors in hushed, sympathetic tones about his worsening condition. There, swaddled in restrictive blankets, sunlight could scarcely pierce the gloom of his prison-like hospital room.
Those were laborious years he wouldn't wish on his worst enemies. If he had enemies. It was hard to make either friend or foe trapped in a hospital. Imagine his surprise when someone took note of him.
A deep resounding voice, a voice like polished brass, cut through the camaraderie of the event. A shadow fell across him as a large Namekian with blue-green skin stepped beside him carrying a burrito of ungodly size. Alarms blared inside his mind. Numbers and data scrolled across his vision.
His mind filled with information, downloaded in a matter of seconds. He felt his core begin to stir, briefly amplifying the power coiled within him. His body reacted as if it were preparing for an impossible fight.
Toshiro's cool gaze slid up the tall figure, briefly meeting his eyes before landing on the burrito in his hands. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be on high alert, but at a glance, the young cyborg couldn't discern a visible threat despite the impressive numbers the male Namekian registered.
He got the distinct feeling he could do very little if the man decided he wanted to cause a ruckus. So what was the harm in responding to him?
"Yeah, they picked me for security. What of it?" His tone, while calm, held a note of edge. It was typical teenage angst, if one were to put words to it. "I mean... 'picked' isn't quite the word for it. I volunteered... if that matters at all." Speaking of the job reminded him he was doing a job, and after a cursory glance about to spot any potential troublemakers, he allowed himself to relax.
The collar and pits of his white tank top stretched taut over his strong, athletic frame were oddly unstained with sweat despite the heat of the day. He fidgeted, bouncing from one leather sandal clad foot to the other before shoving his hands in the pockets of his navy blue swim trunks. One would assume he was a youth looking to meet up with his mates for some festival fun rather than working security detail.
Maybe that was the point.
"My name's—" He stopped short, wondering what name he should use. Dr. Manic had clearly dubbed him 'Flashfire', as if he were Earth's next great hero. It was stupid, to say the least. "You can call me Shiro. Shiro Motoyama. I'm guessing you're also working security? I wasn't told much except to stand here and keep an eye out for trouble. I don't even know who else is supposed to be guarding this thing." He sighed, rubbing a hand through his strange hair. Another cloud of icy breath escaped his lips. "I've been here all of ten minutes and I haven't the slightest clue what I'm supposed to be doing. Such a pain."
[791] [1,442 of 6,000]
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Post by Bass on Jul 5, 2021 8:53:48 GMT -8
Despite Toshiro's sudden spike in powerlevel relative to what it was currently, Bass just remained exactly how he was, either not noticing or not reacting to the increase in intensity from Toshiro in even the slightest way. The Namekian had initially thought this day would go by unimpeded by would be perpetrators, but he'd come across an extraordinary obvious epiphany as he was walking around. The facts, whether or not the World Government succeeded in covering it up was that a gargantuan shark empowered by shards of the Dragon Balls had attacked the city. The coverup was only possible given how absolutely overwhelming their strength was against the thread, a realization of the ideology Bass embodied.
To not react to danger, but be proactive so that he'd be ready when it came. And just like that, he figured the wisest thing to do would be to have boots on the ground in the festival that was unknowingly celebrating the windswept tragedy that occurred some time ago now. Many people might have motivations to wreck it or come across the place and start trying to spread the truth. The Namekian didn't necessarily think people would benefit from knowing in the world laid threads that would snuff out their entire lives and cities in moments, but he also didn't quite believe it was right to manipulate others by tampering with truth.
Eventually after the influx of the kids power, Bass heard him speak. He wasn't going to pretend he knew what went through their head over the passed couple of seconds, but he was confident it was a risk assessment of some kind that figured it'd be best to leave well enough alone. Glancing over given the rather snappy quip, Bass simply raised a brow. He was familiar with kids often being emotionally stable, he'd never really lived through those years. He went from physical infancy to adulthood over the course of five minutes, as far as growing up went he just had to walk a road of mental mastery. At the start it was messy, but unlike the person he was talking to, hormones and chemical imbalances weren't really a factor in the persona he brought forth to the world.
"I'unno, just an observation." He'd say in response, taking another bite of the Burrito as he deflected the slight confrontational tone. When they mentioned that they'd volunteered for the event, Bass would speak again.
"That's commendable, can't say if I were in your shoes I'd be working for free. You could order like, ten pizzas with the amount of zeni you could get doing a day's security work. I think you might've been duped by people exploiting generosity, exists all over the place." The Namekian said with a matter of fact tone. He'd worked in the financing field and managed corporate accounts, he knew plenty well just how manipulative Earthlings could be.
"Working security? Me? No, not officially. If something does show up I might help, it depend on how the situation goes." He'd raise his watch up, noting the ticking of each second as Shiro brought up how long he'd been here for. Thinking about it for a moment the Namekian would then fold his arms and closed his eyes, burrito still loosely held by the tinfoil in his left hand.
Opening his eyes, Bass would speak again. "Well, Shiro Motoyama, it would appear as if your shift won't be uneventful after all. That being said, I'm not sure I'll necessarily need to help too much. Depends, is this security gig a one time thing or would you call yourself a fighter? Depending on how you answer, I'll leave this to you and just give advice. Needless to say there's a group of low power individuals approaching by sea." He said, pointing out down towards the beach. "It's blocked by that food shack at the moment, but it could be pirates or... Who knows. Definitely not everyday people though, a little too strong for that."
Taking a few steps forward, he'd lean beyond the shack to in fact, see a small sail cutting through the water. Even more interesting than he'd expected was some kind of submarine, meaning their culprits came either from the deep sea- or just had too much zeni for their own good. Pointing towards it he'd remark.
"They're all bunched together, so I can't really lock onto any one of them or tell you how many their are. Kami, I can't even tell you if they're good or bad to be honest. Personally I figure a submarine approaching a festival filled with above Earthling average power level people is... A red flag, to say the least."
With that being said, the Namekian had a few more things to say.
"I'll pay you for your work, go make sure the people of this Festival don't have their day interrupted."
812 | 2,254/6,000
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Post by Toshiro Motoyama on Jul 11, 2021 19:08:24 GMT -8
Toshiro peered around the big Namekian, peering to take a look at the supposed culprits. The white sail snapped and fluttered in the breeze, wind tossed by the submarine's acceleration as it cut through the waters like a giant metallic... well, shark. Sure enough, his radar pinged as numbers scrolled across his vision. There were indeed several different power signatures coming from the sub. Notable ones. He licked his lips, casting a sidelong glance at Bass. Despite the obvious threat bearing down upon the festival, he didn't seem the slightest bit concerned. Was he that confident in his abilities? Or was he simply that strong on his own? Truth be told, Shiro had only attacked targets and dummies when Dr. Manic taught him to use his abilities. He'd never had to test them out on another human being. Guess there was a first for everything. He'd been hired as security, hadn't he? "Alright." He spoke his concession aloud, more to himself than to Bass. "I'll handle it. I guess you can back me up or... whatever." It was obvious Shiro was new at this whole security gig, but he didn't want to admit it and look like more of a kid than he was. This world, filled to its brim with dangers both seen and unseen. He'd only experienced it from the confines of a sick bed. Now it was time to grasp hold of the life he wanted. He took off at a sprint, leaping into the air with ease, sailing over the heads of surprised festival attendees. The temperature dropped as the ground froze beneath him, sending him gliding along the street as it iced over ahead of him, sending him away from the festival proper and toward the outskirts, near the beach where the sub would no doubt dock. This was it. This was what heroes did. This would be the ultimate litmus test as to whether or not he had what it take to make a difference in this world.
[1,125] [2,588 of 6,000] Bass
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Post by Bass on Jul 12, 2021 12:15:34 GMT -8
The Black Heart Namekian simply gave a nod, his arms folded. Watching the kid kick into gear, he'd take note of the slipping hazard he made for everyone at the Festival. Though given people aren't completely ignorant to the environment around them, the Southern Island heat and their diligence should ensure that nobody ended up with a cracked skull. At least that's what the Namekian figured, he could only imagine the nasty legal case if it played out the statistically unlikely way. Unlike Toshiro, Bass simply lifted into the air using his staple ability of Flight. Ascending above the rooftops of various stands and neighboring structures, he would begin making his way towards the beach. If he was particularly rushed for time- something he'd glance at his watch to ensure he wasn't, he would've been done this whole thing by this point. However he had a bit of slack today, as part of the festival was involved with his job, seeing as The Momentum Corporation was providing a lot of the ingredients vendors were using for their stalls and the likes. So he could write off being technically a little late as not being so, as he was on the job with his boots on the ground where it counted most. Coming up to the beach, he looked down towards it. Just surfacing appeared to be some kind of mechanical shark submarine. Far too complex a thing and whimsical a design, there was no way the machine itself was going to make it on land. However as a hatch opened, a figure popped up, and then there were several others. Bass had absolutely no clue what they could do, just how powerfully they could do it. By Earthling standards these guys were warlords- more powerful than a person with no exposure to Martial Artists could fathom, but to a Martial Artist they were difficult to distinguish from the power signatures of ordinary people. If they were in a crowd, it might've been tough to pinpoint them. Needless to say, the rowdy pack of radical truthseekers sought vengeance against a group of everyday citizens that too wholeheartedly invested their trust in the news and dismissed rumor. They were a perfect match for the upstart android, the three of them by their lonesome being easily disposed of- but together it could perhaps even be possible Toshiro got overwhelmed. It all came down to exactly what he did. The Namekian at least figured he'd find a good spot to watch. Just off the shore was a large rock that jutted up about fifty meters out, where the tide would splash against in the late hours of the evening. Flying over and taking a seat atop of the structure, he simply watched as he unwrapped the tinfoil of another burrito- he practically ate the things like popcorn some days. Looking at Toshiro, he wasn't sure what to expect. The Namekian was often fairly good at reading people, and his initial assessment of the boy had been a lot of internal conflict. What'd make the difference was here the kids heart was at, he thought. Whether or not he succumbs to the edge of youth or rises to be the hero of today and tomorrow, was entirely dependent on the fuel that motivated him to grasp a brighter tomorrow. The Namekian couldn't have set up a better test even if he was maniacal enough to scheme up the idea. A test of character. He awaited what Toshiro would do. 584 | 3,172 Toshiro Motoyama
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Post by Toshiro Motoyama on Jul 13, 2021 11:52:05 GMT -8
Ice surfing. It was the plainest way to describe this utilization of his ice powers. It had taken him the full breadth of the three years in Dr. Manic's training lab to grasp hold of it. It was difficult to control, and even more difficult to maintain. He'd have simply run to intercept the potential villains but expediency seemed crucial—he had an audience, after all. The Namekian's power signature pulsed and simmered, like a cauldron that could threaten to boil over any moment. He felt it at his peripheral, but there was no time to discern Bass's exact location. A frown tugged at his lips. Was he being evaluated from a distance? Was this some sort of elaborate test? What if he failed to stop these men? Would he be fired or worse? Did it matter? There was a job to be done. He reached the edge of the beach, leaping from the trailing bridge of ice and kicking up an eruption of white sands at his landing. Another ping—sensory data filled his vision. He registered three of them, each with above average power levels as Bass had predicted. They were sure dressed the part: leather vests and pants, heavy combat boots, studded ears and noses that glinted in the bright sunlight, and an array of tribal tattoo markers adoring their necks and arms. The big one in the middle—perceived to be the leader of the bunch—folded his arms and smirked as he stood atop the partial submerged submarine. "Well if it isn't the welcoming committee! Whaddya say, boys? Wanna rough this kid up?" "At best, he's a warm-up," confirmed the second man, cracking his knuckles and scowling at Toshiro. The third, bearing an eyepatch and bandanna, grunted his approval as he hefted an energy carbine onto his shoulder. Toshiro deadpanned, staring blankly up at them. This... had to be a joke, right? These guys... they sure knew how to play the part. It was as if they'd fled a movie set, costumes and all. This was going to be interesting to say the least. The good news was that all of the island's patrons were at the festival a safe distance away. For once, maybe he didn't have to hold back so much. Icy tendrils of cold wrapped around his arm as he shifted his feet, swinging his arm low before bringing it up in an arching motion. A large ice wall erupted forth, sweeping toward the submarine and the men standing atop it. It wasn't strong enough to destroy the sub, and the heat of the day did lessen the effect. But at the very least, Toshiro hoped to contain the threat before things could get out of hand.
[455] [1,580] [3,043 of 6,000] Bass
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Post by Bass on Jul 14, 2021 9:28:49 GMT -8
Sitting up on the rock, the Namekian watched the kid below and the three musketeers get ready to duke it out. He wondered if the attackers could've been from some kind of setpiece, as part of a festival act or something like that. It reminded him of some of the monsters he'd find in the woods, but these guys were here and very much Earthlings. Yawning, he'd just continue to enjoy his burritos. That was of course until he saw a glacier start to form from the kids hand. If he thought what he was thinking was going to happen, it sounded like he'd be going overkill- Bass didn't mind overkill, except when it genuinely ends up with killing. He could intercept if it looked like the assailants were going to get impaled and skewered by a wall of ice. Watching a bit more closely as his burrito sat idly in his hand, he'd note the formation of the wall and track its development. Then he took another bite, and resumed normal routine. It seemed like the ice wasn't that jagged, and it enveloped targets instead of impacting against them. It wasn't bad, if the severe hypothermia risk for those trapped within wasn't on the table. It went without saying that the massive wall of ice that was made drew every single pair of eyes that hadn't already been drawn, it was unclear at this point whether it was entertaining or rousing fear in people. There was quite a bit of confusion among bystanders as they tried to figure out what was going on some a hundred plus meters away down the beach. The ones nearby were less confused, scurrying back and away as fast as possible. Some took the time to run with their beach towels and umbrellas while others just sprinted off without looking back. In Toshiro's defense, many were already doing that the moment I gigantic metallic shark submarine surfaced out of the water. Well, the least Bass could do was ensure these poor victims at this point didn't die of hypothermia. Where the Namekian was, he was no longer. Toshiro's wall of ice shattered and in its wake would be the Namekian carrying two of the thugs in one hand and one in the other whilst flying in the air. He'd touch down on the end of the beach, dragging them up. " Not bad I guess." He said, having mixed feelings about what he saw. On one hand it was certainly dealt with quickly, on the other hand it caused a much larger scene, and the way Toshiro carried himself seemed ominously apathetic and disconnected from reality. The results were good, the aura the boy gave off- at least to the Namekian, was not. A lot of that could be chalked up to him being a teenager, Bass had seen a lot of kids who had that sort of angst going for them. The difference was, most teenagers didn't carry the power and therefore the responsibility Toshiro did. The Namekian let out a slight sigh as he considered what to do next. " I'll be back in a sec' kid." He said, shifting over one of the thugs into his other hand as two fingers went up to his forehead. However, teleporting wouldn't be necessary as police sirens wailed around the corner. The scene had prompted calls to the authority, and their response time was pretty impressive. So instead Bass just fly over to the police car- he was known well enough in South City that he wouldn't be falsely identified as the criminal here. " Here you are. You can thank the kid with the weird hair dye over there, he's who stopped your crooks." He said as he released the criminals. Police would acknowledge the Namekian and move to apply some cuffs to them before loading them up into cruisers. Returning, he'd speak. " Good job. You might actually get a monetary reward for intervening and helping people from the police. Of course, as I promised I'll also be paying for your work.
Hopefully the rest of the day's quiet. I guess if you're willing to share, we can go grab a bite to eat and you can tell me a bit about your past. A kid doesn't just get as strong as yourself, and if they do they're usually from The Western Lands and a Demon Duchy. Those kids are physically strong, not..." He gestured to the collection of melting shards of ice. " That." He didn't feel the need for additional elaboration, instead opting to start walking up the beach towards the main festival venue that was still in full swing. Who knew, perhaps there'd be more chaos caused in the festival by the end of it. Jumbo ingredients were being used, some nefarious types would potentially want to steal that for their own gain. Just depended on luck or a lack of it. 820 | 3,863/6,000 Toshiro Motoyama
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Post by Bass on Jul 16, 2021 6:31:19 GMT -8
Yet in the end, however it happened the Namekian and the Android ended up going about their day separately. The festival had a lot to explore now that it was in full swing and slowly getting back up to speed considering the recent very brief and subtle attack. In fact, the attack came and went so quickly and got so little traction that the people further inland at venues and events had no clue what was happening. Festival games were still played, food was still served and gatherings still had between families. Even if it had, by this point a majority of people had decided to come back. Of course, there was always the subset of people that chose the attack as an opportunity to leave the festival and maybe check it out next year or... Next week, Bass didn't honestly know how regularly these things happened.
What he did know, is that he'd probably only be hanging out at the venues once, so he might as well make use of them while they were using his jumbo ingredients. Going up to a little pizza shop, he'd buy a couple slices and eat as he walked down the small and compact road used to house the various temporary stands and locations available. Most notably, he came across some of the festival games. Some were the standard hit a pin with as much strength as possible- a game Bass didn't want to terrorize with his participation, while others required a bit more precision with thrown darts and fish.
Moving up towards the dart game, he felt like it was a skill that he hadn't really gotten a huge grasp of. Accuracy was never his strong point, it was overwhelming force- something he wasn't necessarily regretful of unless it was painted in a different light. He'd raise his voice towards the clerk pulling some darts off and replacing the notches with balloons again.
"Hey, I'd like to try a round." He'd say, feeling a little awkward honestly. It felt strange to do something so simple, a fact that until he'd stumbled across something such as that hadn't been noticed. Hands in his pockets, the guy would turn around and while speaking set a handful of darts on the table for him.
"Fifty zeni, you have ten darts to take out as many balloons as possible." He'd say. The Black Heart Namekian thought he counted around thirty five total balloons, but it was more than apparent that there was more of them than there was balloons. What was the trick, then? Usually these games had gimmicks if his memory served him right, and the answer became apparent to him pretty after just a moment's consideration. He would have to pop around three and a little balloons per throw on average, so four ideally per throw if he wanted to get them all. Of course, the game wasn't really made with the expectation people would do so- if they got five they got a tiny little bauble that might come as part of a meal at a fast food restaurant, and if they got ten they'd get a stuffed animal around the size of a hand. Of course, the prizes only went up from there.
In fact, it did technically clarify to inspire people that if they managed to get every single balloon, they'd get a giga kaiju shark plushie ticket, which allowed entrance into a lottery going on at the festival. Whoever won would get a 1/32nd sized replica of something, but it was more so marketed as just a gigantic stuffed shark coming in at around the size of a massive great white, it was huge! Bass obviously knew what was being replicated, but his perspective on those events were incredibly unique, one of the few calculated risk the World Government took to prevent total calamity from befalling South City.
Setting down a zeni bill on the table, he'd scoop up the darts in one hand while picking out one of them in the other- his dominant hand. Looking towards the board, he had a strategy for how to tackle it. If he threw the darts on an arc and with a small amount of force, they'd ideally tilt around the top of the balloons as they lost momentum. Now falling down with the force of gravity, Bass figured a good execution of that throwing style could pop upwards of six or maybe even seven balloons in a single throw. However, just because it was an ideal tactic didn't mean it was easily executed. In fact for the Namekian that was so used to brute force and stubbornness when it came to solving his problem, the finesse and agility required to make this work was actually difficult for him.
He threw the first dart.
Watching it fly through the air, the thing flew too far and on a weak downwards arc hit the back of the board and popped no balloons. The first shot was often the easiest, and so the guy with his arms folded off to the side glanced to Bass- it was a little awkward, feeling like he was being judged. He felt like a lot of eyes were on him nowadays.
Well, he'd retrieve the second dart and throw it after trying to correct the application of too much force from the first. It'd fly forward much shorter, too short actually. Stopping before it was parallel with the balloons, the dart would plunge straight down behind the counter without popping anything. The clerk by this point had seemingly started to understand what he was trying to do, but that didn't change the fact the dart Bass just threw had punctured through a rubber mat on the ground beneath the counter. He got a bit of a glance, but overall a mark of that size wasn't a big deal, especially for the rugged things to make a durable festival site.
Third one was the charm. The first one to understand one's flaw, the second one to counter act over correction, and the third one was just right as the saying goes. Tossing it forward, it'd come to a stop over the balloons as it didn't have the energy to reach the back wall. Turning, the needle point was just about to point towards the balloon when the side of the dart hit one- sheesh, Bass thought he'd had it. It turned out he'd also thrown the dart a little low, and the side of it hit a balloon before the point, causing the dart to bounce off and tumble into another balloon. Thankfully, he did actually pop one, provoking a response from the attendant present.
"Good job, keep trying your best!" He'd say with a few claps of his hands. The guy had most certainly understood Bass's strategy at the point, but just like Bass understood, even if the tactic was sound the manual dexterity to pull it off was the real task ahead. Bass now had a feel for the right amount of force to apply, and that he had to aim it a little higher. Letting loose the fourth dart led to the Namekians first success. It came to a halt around the top of the balloons and swiveled around from the pull of gravity, sharpened point aimed straight down at the balloons. Pop pop pop- pop pop- pop, then the dart hit the ground. There was a chorus of clapping from the attendant, who raised his voice to congratulate Bass.
"Wow, that's pretty clever pal, I'll give you that!" He said, taking note that the Namekian had successfully popped six balloons with four darts, already getting over what the average was with the tactic a lot of people relied on to avoid the initial embarrassment. If he kept it up, the remaining six darts if he performed consistently could net him enough to flush out the board. However that became significantly more complicated once the fact that the dart previously direction shifted slightly from repeated contact, causing it to pop a few balloons not in a perfectly straight line. It meant future throws might not pop as much, and there was now a large factor of luck at play.
Tossing another dart at the board, this one would also be a success. However unlike the previous one, there were only a series of four distinct pops. That would be according to plan if he'd hit from the start, but that amount wouldn't quite clear the board if he was consistent with it. Even if at ten total balloons popped, five pops per remaining dart wouldn't pop them all. In fact, it would narrowly come short. He'd had to pop groups of six but...
He noticed the attendant was looking at him funny, and then he picked up on the fact that he was taking too long to plan out his shots. Glancing behind him, a couple people could be seen loitering around the area, including a couple kids with a few zeni bills in their hands. Right. He was making people wait.
Turning back to the board, he'd fire out the remaining darts in quick succession. Not nearly as practiced and careful, needless to say while admirable in the end he came short of popping them all. Still, he was handed a weird humanoid ninja plushie that was about 1/2 scale from a Human. It was neat enough he figured, and he was just doing it to kill some time. That was when he realized he must've been murdering time. Looking down at his watch as he was walking around the venue again, he took note that he was five minutes passed his scheduled lunch break.
Damn. He needed to make an alibi quick, his co workers were going to be breathing down his neck. Running over to the Burrito Shop, he'd quickly order a few more and slap some zeni's on the table, before lifting off of the ground and flying away from the festival. Looking down at it from the sky above, the Namekian appreciated the scene. Hundreds of people wandering about, enjoying their days with their families. It might've been family that he envied the most, if he was being honest with himself. Not even in the biological sense, just... People that he could be close friends with, chat with, be happy with. As it was he had coworkers he could bounce off of but... It wasn't quite the same. It didn't feel quite like how he thought it should.
Nevertheless, he flew back over the South City skyline towards The Momentum Tower. Picking up on the movement, a few people took pictures given his reputation in the city from down below, catching him flying in the sky. By the time he'd get to his office while maintaining a speed that wouldn't damage anything below him, it'd be fifteen minutes passed his lunch break when having to order the food was also factored in. Cursing to himself, he'd slide open the window at the top of his tower leading to his office, before climbing in and quickly adjusting his clothes.
He wasn't even paying attention to if anyone was in the room, adjusting his tie after dropping the bag of food on his desk. Turning to sit down after doing so, he'd see his secretary sitting there and tapping her pen on a clip board. There was just a look of disappointment in her eyes, and Bass sighed.
"What? I got wrapped up in that festival. Some people attacked it." He wasn't lying, but the secretary wasn't having it anyways.
"If it's not a festival under siege, it's an ancient science base, or a Demon across the world." The strangest part is that... He was the top dog of the company, people couldn't really reprimand him for not being on time and the likes. Yet the spotlight of humiliation did plenty to punish the Black Heart Namekian, who frustrated, dropped into the chair at the other side of his desk. He'd see a paper on the other end of his desk, dropping his hand on it to slide it towards himself for further inspection.
'WMAT Sponsor Candidates' was what the file was headed with. Fairly straight forward, that was going to be right around the corner wasn't it? He'd need to be at his best there. At one point, he'd considered participating himself but after his encounter in West City decided that could cause more harm than good to Earth. A lot of his actions at this point carried more weight than he could've ever imagined in the beginning. He had a lot of responsibility.
Skimming down the documentation, he took note of some of the names. Some of them were Martial Artists that were affiliated with The Momentum Corporation- usually through The Burrito Bass, while others were entirely scouted from far out eyes. Rubbing his chin, he'd set the paper down and rest his elbows down on the table.
"I'll have to get started on that, then. If there's any additional information, we can go over it with the team in the conference room in a few minutes."
The secretary nodded, "Sure, I'll set that up."
And thus, the day of the festival began to conclude. Wherever Toshiro went was up to him, Bass could only open the door.
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