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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Sept 2, 2019 17:54:52 GMT -8
Konja squinted, holding her hand above her eyes to block out the early morning sun rising over the horizon. The "sea", as the locals called it, was a truly alien place. Once one got past the developed areas, which ranged from wooden huts sitting in a place with many trees - a 'jungle' - to tall stone buildings resembling a Tuffle city, one found a wide flat field of sand stretching across the ground. That field tapered out to an unimaginably vast pool of water that went all the way to the horizon.
In the distance, she could see what appeared to be chunks of land, apparently suspended within the pool. Beings in various states of undress loitered on the sand, performing various activities. Some played with balls that they appeared to have to hit in such a way that it flew over a net stretched between them. Children chased each other about, while others used the sand to build little buildings. Some adults reclined on chairs, or beds, or something halfway between the two, resting either underneath poles topped with artificial canopies, presumably made to give shade. Why would they do that instead of just doing what the others did? That was to say, others performed their reclining underneath the shadows of what appeared to be some sort of oasis trees. A few had already begun to bathe in the shallower portions of the pool.
This must have been a wonderful planet, then, the opposite of what she found on Planet Plant. Desert, desert, more desert, some mountains, the Tuffle cities, and lastly, a few oases, her visits to which had been very enjoyable. Water had always been an issue for their small village, and she spent the earliest parts of the morning drawing water from the well to be used in irrigation, cooking, and drink.
On the ninth day of the week, she would draw enough irrigation water for two days, so that on the last day, the water normally drawn for irrigation could be used for bathing. What a joy it must have been to be able to bathe every day, and in a pool so big you didn't need to care how many people showed up to do the same.
A rare smile crept up her face as she raced over the strip, dropped her pickle jar on the sand, threw off her recently acquired vestments, and jumped into the sparkling blue water. She surfaced a moment later with a shriek, her eyes burning like someone was roasting them, while her nose boiled like someone was cooking them in a stew. The mouthful of water she had intended to gulp down instead went back out as she realized just how utterly salty the concoction was.
As she wiped the salt from her inflamed eyes and the fire began to slowly fade away along with the blur in her vision, she paid more attention to the children playing in the water. They had... some sort of "clothes" on their eyes, which now she understood, kept that burning salty water out.
This simply would not do. Slowly, and full of disappointment, the yam farmer waded out of the water back to shore, shaking vigorously to dry herself before putting her clothes back on. They didn't have towels back home. After all... the sun and harsh desert winds were more than enough to dry you after shaking yourself. But this was most definitely a lesson of not judging things by appearances.
While it was still possible to enjoy this "sea" thing, certain precautions were necessary, and certain beliefs had to be cast aside. For example, the idea that all big pools of water could be swum without consequence, or the idea that all water tasted faintly of stone. Apparently, on this planet, all of this seawater was painfully salty. Not at all useful for drinking, and bathing was ultimately questionable if that meant it was going to leave you salty after you finished.
Konja marched up the beach with a pout. She'd had some of this food called 'tacos' from those vendors by the volcano earlier, so her hunger was satiated for the time being. In fact, she'd come here to bathe, but it looked like that would not be the case for now...
She looked left, then right, and spotted a group of what appeared to be people in some sort of black armour a short walk away. Curosity piqued, the farmer picked up her pod and headed in that direction to get a closer look at what was going on.
A sign stood above them, which didn't help as she was illiterate, but it was clear that there was some sort of excitement in this area. On closer inspection, they were crowded around a number of wheeled machines which appeared to be vehicles of some sort.
The yam farmer approached the nearest person and after some extensive internal mental deliberation, opted to tap him on the shoulder.
The big fuzzy brown man with a snout on his face and dark reflective coverings over his eyes turned around and grunted inquisitively.
"Excuse me, mister, but what is this about?"
He laughed out loud and straightened his shiny black jacket. "Lady, either you live in a cave, or bikin ain't yer thing. This is Dewm's test run for their new prototype Chopper!"
"Dewm? Chopper?"
"Okay, ya definitely live in a cave. 'Dewm' stands fer Desert Wolf Motorcycles. Hottest chopper 'facturers this side of the sea. As for a chopper, you're lookin at em. They're badass bikes built to handle any terrain, no matter how rough! And that new Wolf Fang? They say it'll take as much punishment a mountain and then some!"
So it was indeed some kind of vehicle, and from how he bragged about it, it was built to survive extremely rugged conditions. That might prove useful to explore this new planet. "How does one get one of these Wolf Fang Choppers?"
"Last I heard, they plan to put this sucker in the top tier. So either ya have deep pockets, or like me, ya take her out for the test ride and make it back in one piece."
"May I?"
"Huh?" The bear raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. "Yeah, sure. The Wolf Fang's a real beast. Most o the folks quit after the first leg, or they get hurt. Just sayin." He stared for a few moments when he looked up and noticed that she was in fact carrying a large metal pod of some sort on her back, with just one hand. "But since ya sure look damn strong, I say go for it."
"Then I will do just that!" Konja nodded, and moved through the crowd to get to what looked like the one in charge, a short fuzzy man in a formal purple suit, and a tall cylindrical hat. By the end of this, she would be sure to have one of those choppers! And maybe if they'd let her she could get one for Kayle too.
[1175]
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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Sept 8, 2019 7:29:23 GMT -8
"Step right up, folks! This is the leanest, the meanest, wolfiest, fangiest, fistiest hog you'll ever set your eyes on!" the little fuzzy man in the purple suit went on his spiel, selling the Choppers to a mixed audience of aficionados, interested amateurs, and completely clueless customers. Needless to say, Konja was part of the third group. The barker pointed up at a cardboard cutout of what appeared to be a tall, well-built Saiyan in a set of orange over blue clothes, and yet conspicuously lacking a tail. An experiment like herself? "They're so tough that Brussuls the Muscles has given them his seal of approval!" The yam farmer rubbed her chin in deep thought. That definitely sounded like a Saiyan name, alright. Sounded like the kind from those clans that had gained more esteem in the King's army, though. Then... there were Saiyans on this planet? Famous ones? Had the King gone on to conquer other worlds somehow? That was amazing! "Brussuls the Muscles?" It was an odd title to be sure and depending on who you asked, it might have been an oversimplification. Muscles were a good sign of power, but it took more than good muscles to fight. Skill and training were first and foremost. Odd that a Saiyan with any sort of esteem would take on such a title. "Only one of the greatest ring contenders in the whole world, ma'am!" The fuzzy pitchman squinted as he studied her, eyes travelling up, down, and around her physique. "You look like a fighter yourself, ma'am. Are you sure this is the first time you've heard of Brussuls?" "I've been asleep for a long time," while it sounded like a joke, it was the simplest way she could explain her situation. "So I must have missed his rise to glory. But if you say he is one of the greatest, he approves of these choppers, then they must be worth riding.""I do love your penchant for understatements, ma'am. Yes indeed, these choppers will getcha through anything! The question is, can you handle the Wolf Fang Mk I?" He pointed his cane squarely between her eyes, as though issuing a challenge. Konja clasped her free hand into a fist in determined acceptance. "And if I survive the full ride, I get one for myself?""Guaranteed, ma'am!" The fuzzy little pitchman pulled out a long rolling sheet of paper with tiny text written on it. "As it says here in the conditions of our special test run promotion! If you can complete the full battery of tests assigned to the chopper, you can have it for free!" "And this is considered by many to be dangerous?" Konja looked over at the chopper. It certainly had something of a rugged appeal, bold parts that appeared to be armoured somehow. The sort of design you would expect from a vehicle intended to take you through the worst conditions on a regular basis and still keep running. "DWM prides itself on fabricating only the roughest, toughest of hogs, ma'am. And that's a double-edged sword. Often, we push the envelope so hard most of the test riders aren't strong enough to handle it! Which is why we're doing this open promo for the Wolf Fang Mk I. If you can survive all the tests we put this baby through, you deserve to own it! That's our guarantee of quality!" The pitchman tapped against the nearest chopper's tailpipe. "So what do you say, ma'am? I can see that you are no ordinary lady. You've got real muscle and a real interest in getting your very own chopper!" Konja stared at the machine and rubbed her chin in thought. On the one hand, it sounded like the kind of vehicle that could withstand the physical abuse of a Saiyan lifestyle. On the other hand, she had no idea how to make it run. It looked completely different from anything the Tuffle army ever threw her way, and even then, she didn't even learn how to use their vehicles anyway! A moot point to be sure, but it was enough to emphasize how little she knew about riding on vehicles. "How does one go about using a chopper?" Might as well get that out of the way, right? "As a farmer, I admit that I've only ever travelled on foot."The pitchman responded with a wide smile. "Well ma'am, that's no problem at all! At DWM, we have some top-class riding instructors to get you started, no matter how little you know!" He waved over to the metal shacks in the distance, where they were visibly keeping additional choppers. One of the people there, a person in a pure white jumpsuit and wearing a matching white helmet with black visor, responded to the summons and started to walk over. "Who's that?" she raised an eyebrow. The pitchman went into some sort of strange monologue. "Some say he once dated a bandit wanted for stealing a rare purple mattress, and that he is deathly afraid of birds. All we know is he's called the Steg." The Steg stopped in front of the yam farmer and crossed his arms over his chest, legs spread somewhat apart. "Ma'am here needs some basic instruction in the use of a chopper, Steg. Think you can handle that for us?" The pitchman pointed in Konja's direction. The Steg said nothing and only proceeded to lead the Saiyan to the chopper. Confused yet fascinating by this mysterious helmeted riding instructor, Konja followed him and watched as he went over the actions necessary to use such a vehicle. First and most importantly, was mounting the chopper. It looked so easy at first, but Konja found that when she tried to get her leg over to the other side, the thing would fall over into the sand. She would get it back up quickly, of course, and as it turned out, the finish on the chopper was so well done that it never once scratched despite all that. Finally, after ten minutes, she managed to get the mounting right. That was only the first of the number of actions she had to take to get started. [1030/2205] Jack Pota
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Post by Jack Pota on Sept 14, 2019 14:49:27 GMT -8
Now that the three of them had escaped that dreaded facility, he figured that he would investigate the area. Soon enough, he would come across the beach with its scantily clad male and female humanoids engaging in the usual activities associated with the beach. A group of the individuals was playing what Jack understood to be Beach Volleyball, with the goal to land the ball in the opponent’s side of the court to score points with the use of serves and sets. There were also some individuals sunbathing in beach chairs with the protection of towels and beach umbrellas. Yes, he had wanted to experience this as a child but…that never really happened because Dr. Aspic was too busy with work back then. Twelve Years ago… “Daddy, when are we gonna go to the beach? Please, I really want to go.” The adolescent Jack pleaded to his ever-so-busy father that usually didn’t have much time to spend with Jack, despite his position. “Jack, we’ve had this conversation before; when things calm down, and I’m not as busy as I am now, I promise I’ll take you to the most beautiful beach you have ever seen.” Dr. Aspic would explain to Jack and he would believe his father time and time again, until he finally saw the truth for himself that proved that his father really never had any intention of spending time with Jack unless there was something that piqued Dr. Aspic’s interest. Present Day…Indeed, it was clear that his father always thought of him as an inconvenience and annoyance outside of needing an heir and someone to instill his will upon; even if he did genuinely love Jack as a father. Would he turn out the same as his father too, would he become too ingrained in his own research to spend time with family? “NO! I’M NOT LIKE THAT DEADBEAT MADMAN AT ALL!!!” Jack roared in his heightened emotional state as he accidentally blurted out his intense thoughts, which caused a lot of people to stare at him with mixed expressions of fear and concern. “Uh, sorry everyone…I’ll just…leave. Yeah…” Jack babbled nervously because he realized that he had let his emotions completely get the best of him, again. With that, he started to walk away from the scene and things started to return to normal for the others. He’d made a spectacle of himself unnecessarily. He really needed to find out some sort of way to get his emotions sorted out or to let off some steam when he got like this. While he was walking away, he started to hear conversation between two individuals right as they walked past him. “Crazy right? Not only is DWM holding contest up ahead to give away First Edition Wolf Fangs endorsed by Brussels the Muscles to the first few that can handle the ride, but my buddy just texted me that there’s this babe in all black with long black hair about to test one out! She’s probably a perfect ten bro!” The blonde in punk-styled reflective black leather biker attire exclaimed to his brunette friend with identical clothes as the brunette replied; “No kiddin’? Well what are we waiting for?! Maybe we’ll get her number if we’re lucky!” Clearly, they both were pervs looking to get some action from another woman, but that description was…oddly specific… “Could it be…Konja?” Jack muttered to himself as he came to a stop and glanced over to the large crowd that had gathered at the beach. With his interest piqued, Jack quickened his pace and made his way over to the gathered crowd to see what the hubbub was all about. When he arrived and pushed a bunch of rowdy bikers out of the way rudely as he got some rude looks and glances of surprise because of his revealing attire with its many belts to the point of being unnecessary while exposing his shoulders and midriff, Jack took notice of one of the few vehicles of transportation that were clearly primitive and new at the same time. These vehicles were definitely motorcycles, the type that you were leaned back when you seated yourself in it. Jack then ran his hand along one of the Choppers that was entirely black with nice sharp edges, and a nice leather seat with a headrest. “Yes, this should work nicely… I just need to operate this vehicle on the beach without losing control and injuring myself, correct?” Jack inquired of the furry short gentleman that was hosting the event in a purple suit. “Indeed sir, if you can complete the battery of tests its yours!” The man replied right as Jack mounted on the black chopper like a natural after lifting the kickstand. Jack then spun the motorcycle around with a sharp turn before glancing at Konja and thought that a motorcycle would suit her well, after she had gotten accustomed to the transportation vehicle. He then flashed her a soft smirk as he coasted by before he popped a wheelie and drove off with the roar of the engine. He was confident that Konja would be able to catch on, but he considered it would be best if Kayle received his own form of transportation as well; after all, it would cut down on travel time for the three of them, something that was absolutely necessary if they were going to travel long distances. Once he was a safe enough distance away from the crowd, Jack started to weave left and right several times as he imagined an obstacle course before him while the chopper continued to kick up sand behind it on occasion. The Chopper was very responsive, much to Jack’s surprise before he made an abrupt sharp turn that caused him to drift slightly before turning sharply into a U-turn. Jack then realized that it was indeed a challenge to handle, but he maintained his balance as he sharply turned again for a figure eight. Control of the Chopper was becoming rougher as he pushed what the vehicle could do, but he kept his balance as he returned to the crowd and eventually slowed down to a coast and applied the brakes to a complete stop. The Chopper was a wild mechanical beast that wasn’t at all easy to handle, but it did greatly reward those that were worthy of its power and durability. In a way, Jack felt that it might have chosen him rather than him choosing it. "Jeez, they weren't kidding..." Jack muttered to himself as he parked the Chopper and gathered his thoughts for a moment as he waited for the results of Konja's performance. [1108] Konja of Clan Korm
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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Sept 21, 2019 7:36:32 GMT -8
By the time Jack arrived, Konja had just finished learning to start up the engine and was now starting to get the chopper moving to begin with. The Steg's over the shoulder demonstrations were useful, and it was clear that it wasn't the first time he had to teach someone who didn't know the first thing about motorcycles. His silent patience was astounding, to say the least, especially given how clumsy this student was. Konja worked the kick-starter and the engine roared to life with a satisfying rumble. It was around this time that Jack, using his own machine with ease and experience one would expect from someone used to vehicles, passed by and gave her a little smirk. Was he bragging? Showing off how he knew to use this thing while she was still just getting the hang of starting it up? Or was it an indicator of something else? The next thing she knew, Jack's chopper was standing on its hind wheel as it went forward, and he roared off into the distance. His mastery of the vehicle even on uneven sand spoke volumes about his ability. Simple observation of other riders who had passed by with their own machines while she was busy learning from the Steg indicated that wheels did not do so well on sand. The Wolf Fang was an exception and seemed to do much better, but even with such a thing, a poor rider like one other fellow that tried his luck earlier would only mess it up. She watched as the Steg demonstrated the next steps clearly and concisely, in exact order, before revving up the engine. He burst off with absolute control of his chopper and rode in a circle that ended exactly where he took off. Then, he silently faced her direction, waiting for her to do the same. The yam farmer took a deep breath, feeling the rumble of her own engine as she repeated the Steg's instructions. The chopper surged forward with sudden excessive power and Konja was pushed back by the inertia, the powerful machine threatening to leave her behind as it sped over the sand. She reflexively squeezed the brake hard, and the Wolf Fang stopped with such force that she flew off and landed head-first in the sand. The first thing she heard when she extracted her head from the embarrassing ostrich position it had taken was the laughter of the crowd. Clearly, she was the subject of this mockery. Some were even pointing at her. "Nice ass, babe!" a blonde man in black leather shouted. Normally, calling something 'nice' was probably something of a compliment, but his tone implied anything other than such. The worst part was that she had no idea what he was complimenting in such a sarcastic fashion. What was an ass? Ah, perhaps it was what the people on this planet called such an embarrassing failure to control a vehicle. In which case, she could infer that he was used to seeing people mess up their driving and that he considered this particular "ass" of a very funny quality. "Why don'tcha hop on my bike, and I'll show ya a real good time!" Another one in similar attire, riding on his own motorcycle, revved the engine. Ah, so he was taunting her with his superior skill. Such a foul mouth. As much as she would love to punch him, however, she was more concerned about earning this chopper for herself. This person was beneath her. "Did ya see her fly like a chicken?" a third person pointed and laughed. A chicken must have been something on this planet that received scorn and mockery. No. She was a Saiyan, a warrior and a farmer, not a chicken. Whatever that was. Several people whistled at her in ways that didn't seem like a normal calling whistle. Mocking whistles, then. What else could they have been? The two-toned whistle sounded whimsical, high then low as if attempting to call her attention to its silliness. So if they had no words to say, then they would use mere sounds, like animals. And she heard that Saiyans had no manners... Clenching her fist, Konja stood up and ignored the continuing jeers, and turned to face Jack in the distance. "I will earn this chopper, Jack! And we will all ride when this is over!"This, of course, brought up some speculation of who Jack was. She wasn't exactly pointing at him, after all. Some might infer it was someone in that direction. Others might correctly guess that it was the strangely-dressed young man who had just parked his own chopper, but that was neither here nor there. Why him specifically? Some guys would approach him and in an unsubtle manner, ask, "Ey, she with you?" "Yeah, you together or somethin?" "What's her number, bud?" Completely oblivious to what fate she had inadvertently sentenced Jack, Konja stood her chopper back up and started the engine again. Accelerated with just a bit more gentleness. True enough, the vehicle started to cruise through the sand as though it were no different from a highway. Not that the yam farmer would know that, but as far as performance went, she knew that it was comfortable enough of a ride, given the circumstances. After a few moments, the tension lifted enough that she could smile just a bit, enjoying the experience as she rode along the white beach. That was where things went wrong: when she dared to close her eyes for just a moment. The chopper struck a particularly deep-wedged coral and flipped over, burying her underneath the sand for a second time. The machine was much as unscathed as its rider, but she was now in the embarrassing position of being buried in the sand from the waist down. The Wolf Fang had come down on top of her, and while she was understandably unhurt, it had driven her feet first into the sand like a tent peg. The crowd was just an undiscernable line in the distance now, but a strange floating machine hovered overhead. Its upper part had a sort of mechanical eye, similar to if more primitive than the ones used by the Tuffle automated turrets. The lower part held a screen, which showed her that yes, the crowd was either laughing or booing in her general direction. In a corner of the panning footage, she noticed the fuzzy barker in the purple suit shaking his head in apparent disappointment, the Steg standing motionless with his arms crossed, and those three rascals waving at her in some sort of insinuating fashion. The yam farmer pulled herself out of the sand and dusted her lower half, standing the chopper up and checking it for any damage. Truly an impressive machine. It somehow withstood that flip just then. But before she could try out the trial run, she had to prove that she could handle it. So far, the crowd was not impressed. She would have to get better. Konja hopped back onto the chopper and rode back to the starting point, attempting to stop with a side-swerving brake, only to end up tumbling over sideways. She landed facedown a short distance from the feet of the Steg, whose only indication that he was watching was how his helmet tilted down to face her. The chopper landed on her back less than a moment later, kick-start lever digging into her spine as it did. The little fuzzy barker walked over. "So then ma'am, how are you finding your experience?" "It is... not a simple answer." Konja pushed the chopper off with her left hand and used the right to help herself back up. "But if you mean to ask if I am about to give up, then the answer is no. I will survive the test. I just have to get a bit more practise in, that's all."The barker sighed in relief. "That's wonderful, ma'am! In that case, please, take all the time ou need!" Nodding to him and to the Steg, the yam farmer dusted herself and set the bike back up. She would take as much time as she needed to get the hang of it until they were satisfied that she could make the test run. "Could you tell me a bit more about the test run, though? Where will it take place?""Oh well yes," the barker nodded and brought up a large map of the island. He started making his way through a number of markers. "Starting point is here along the beach, of course. Sand endurance. But it'll work its way through the quicksand area, which is closed off to the public. Once through there, you should emerge at the mouth of the swamp trail, leading to the jungle trail, making your way up to Mt. Fiesta." "Your trail goes up a volcano?" Now that certainly was impressive, if they expected the chopper to survive a dip into the lava. "Yes, but most of its heat is exhausted through geysers and hot springs. We're testing its endurance against highly mineralized hot water." "I see..." though the only thing she understood from that was 'hot water'. Having lived in a wasteland, she had no idea what the rest of that meant. "That was not what I expected of the volcano, but the hot water will be fine. I should get to practising, then!" Konja pumped her fist. "The sooner I accustom myself to the chopper, the sooner I can traverse the testing course!"With that, the yam farmer got back on the chopper and resumed her attempts to master the basics. 1610/3815 Cayle Pota Jack Pota
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Post by Cayle Pota on Sept 21, 2019 9:00:30 GMT -8
Cayle had went through all the trouble of picking out Earthling clothes at the store until to be told that he had to pay for it. With that, he had no idea. He thought the people who were asking if they could help he and his fellow Saiyan refugees were literally trying to help them and offering their textiles for free as a good Samaritan type donation. As much as the group seemed disheartened, and as much as little Nalta cried, clinging to the strange stuffed rabbit that she had picked out from the toys in the store, Cayle was prepared to return it all when it became clear that they had to pay this thing called ‘zeni’ to gain it. But then Carlos Alfonso paid for it all, and food for them afterwards.
Cayle was not happy about that if he was being perfectly honest, as it felt like he was ripping off the restaurateur. He frowned as the others ate, not digging into his hamburger and fries despite the fact it was one which was so huge it was a ‘your meal free if you eat the whole thing’ sized one.
The bronzed chef who had made friends with Cayle after the dark brown haired Saiyan had saved Carlos Alfonso and his crew from Volcanic flows and the painful or burns that would have likely caused, as well as the loss of property it would have, he was encouraging, and not the least of which because he knew that Cayle could eat that hamburger and ten more without being eaten under the proverbial table.
“You can just pay me back later, when you’ve got money. Someone as clever as you are and as skilled as you are in the martial arts, should find it easy to make money and I even know a few things which you could do to make money, like a martial arts tournament of sorts which I supply the concessions for. You could also look in the help wanted ads, you could train people in the martial arts. If you really wanted to you could go after one of those dastardly villains from the bounty boards which are so often featured in motion pictures and manga.” Because it was a lucrative profession, bounty hunting. There was no arguing that, but then again Cayle was not trying to argue that.
He began to eat at a proper pace, as Carlos Alfonso went on about Zeni and explained what it looked like and what the numbers on them meant. By the time Cayle and the other Saiyans had finished their challenge burgers, yes, even little Nalta, who the wait staff did not want to give one to because she was a tiny twig of a child of some tween age, Cayle had learned what the numbers of Earth looked like and what the different denominations of Zeni looked like.
He had found out how much that Carlos Alfonso had spent on those clothes, and shoes purchased for the Saiyans as well as the toys purchased for the Saiyan elder and the children, and then Cayle went on to write it down in Saiyan numerology, Tuffle numbers, and Earthling numbers before pocketing it.
Time passed, and Carlos Alfonso lead them to the capsule house he had rented for the former living test subjects of the Tuffle Science Commission who had accompanied Cayle to South City to find some clothes and other necessary things before they cut out as a group to make their way in the world. Already, Friddar had found a job working as a security officer for the likes of Carlos Alfonso de La Reyes and the Taco King restaurant group, having the patience, experience, and knowledge to make a good one when it came down to it, especially with his innate above human talents as a Saiyan.
The rest had not done a thing, though the Twins (Jica and Cama) had agreed to watch Nalta for the Tuffle-Saiyan Hybrid would-be warrior, the Saiyan would-be warrior, and would-be warlord while Konja and Cayle were gone from the rest of the group. It was not an ideal set-up, ideally they would have found Nalta’s mother in the bunker which they were in, but it was enough for now.
Tara Taro with her purple-black hair and aggressive ways demanded to go with the group, but Cayle stopped her with a simple point that she was better suited to protect the non-combatants like Jica, Cama, Nalta, and Friddar than simply disappearing off with them to find some of this thing they called Zeni.
***
Jack and Konja had went one way, Cayle another. He was walking down the street after the failed fight against Bass the big blue Namekian, and counting the Zeni he had gained from that fight. The blood on his armor didn’t bother the Saiyan much, so much as the smell and the feeling of moisture upon his torso did. It was a reminder that he was not good enough, and that he had a lot further to go if he wanted to actually be able to help his people. As he counted and re-counted the zeni bills again he knew that Bass had given him the entire purse for winning and he felt bad.
It was not as if the battle between them had lasted for that long or been much of a challenge for the Namekian when it came down to it, even if they had both went all out. Despite that, out of the goodness of his heart or for some other reason, the blue alien had given Cayle all of the monetary purse for their fight at the underground fighting arena in South City. It was distracting, but not so distracting that when he was done counting and had slipped the currency into an inner pocket of his armor, he hadn’t heard the sounds around him.
The scuffle of good shoes against the ground, grunts, the sounds of struggle as someone pulled something from someone else. Sore from his fight as he was, the Saiyan did not hesitate to investigate the sound, running forward.
There he saw two brothers, one in a lab coat, glasses, slacks, dress shoes, and a button up shirt and the other in coveralls. They were fighting to stop a group of men dressed in all black with black sunglasses and ear pieces from taking a two wheeled orange and silver vehicle which Cayle would later learn was a motorcycle.
“You guys can’t just steal our hard work! We did all the work on this model and we never agreed to sell it to Capsule Corp! You’ve got to have some sense, you can’t just rob intellectual property in broad daylight.” the lab coat wearing one said, only to find himself punched by the biggest of the men in black.
“Course we can, you fools don’t even have the sense for your team in the Wolf Fang Choppas competition to have a security detail or at least a few guards.”
Cayle had no reason to get involved, and yet he would. He climbed up the nearest building and then leaped down onto the engine block of the truck which was going to pull the trailer. The Saiyan was silent as he moved to do it, but after it was done there was a crunch as the hood and engine block crumpled in upon themselves from the force which Cayle’s drop kick had provided. With a back flip out of the car’s now unseemly hood valley, Cayle came to rest beside the brothers.
“Leave their thingie alone. They have security, me. And if you saw what I just did to your truck, imagine what I can do to you, a bunch of glorified white fangs in human clothing.” The Saiyan declared, putting his arms and hands up as if he was about to fight the one who had just punched the scientist.
Apparently the overwhelming display of force worked because the cocky, man dressed in all black, bigger than Cayle as he was, walked away with the others, but not before muttering fearfully, “We don’t want no trouble.”
With them gone, Cayle introduced himself to the scientist and the man dressed in the coveralls, who Cayle would later learn was something called a ‘mechanic’.
“I am Cayle Pota, son of Pota Potaset, son of Potaset Potaset.. I hear you guys are looking for some help?” he had not actually heard it, but he had seen on television such a statement to mean ‘I will work for you at this task’.
“I’m Michael Splinter, and this is my brother Don Splinter.” the orange coverall wearing mechanic spoke up, pointing to his brother with his purple tie. “Along with our brothers Ralph and Leonard we’re the Splinter brothers racing team and we had our own concept for the Wolf Fang Choppas bike contest and trials being run by Desert Wolf Motorcycles. A second bike option for the trials for us to sell, which performs just as good as the normal choppa but looks more like a classical motorcycle.” the mechanic went so far as to tap the vehicle with his hand and grin. “And this here is said motorcycle, we call her by the code name: Flying Turtle.”
Cayle offered his hands to shake Michael and Don’s hands before giving a grin. “Glad to have been of help.”
Which is when the Capsule Corp Goons came back, with sledgehammers, and out of no-where, ether because Cayle let them or because he was distracted by the conversation, they got in close enough to actually swing at the Saiyan former farm boy and land some hits. Only some, because by the time the seventh hit came about, Cayle Pota, son of Pota Potaset was in his own aggressive fighting stance and beginning to hurl them like so many stones over the rooftops.
With the last of the men in black knocked to the ground, Michael piped in, “Tell your boss that South City Rulez, and they should just make their own successor to the Nimbus or Wyvern cycles, quit trying to steal ours as a new model for your’s.”
Don pushed up his glasses and straightened out his lab coat before turning to look at Michael and Cayle.
“I think we may have found our test driver, Michael. Did you see how much damage he took? He could actually test the limits of the machine before we have to spend even MORE time on security measures!”
Cayle really was not sure if he liked scientists and scientist type people, or hated scientists and scientist type people. None the less, here he was offering his hand to shake their’s. “What’s it pay?”
The would-be warlord needed to make Zeni any which way that he could after all. For now, Zeni was king.
***
Hours passed, and Cayle met the rest of the Splinter brothers. Blue business suit wearing Leonard, and a red baseball cap and t-shirt wearing Ralph, who had a cast on. Apparently, that was the start of their troubles. Ralph was their motorcycle tester but someone caused him to have an accident, falling down the stairs, and made him unable to continue working on the project in more than an advisory role. It was too hard to drive a Motorcycle without a pair of working arms, after all.
It was not easy and not quick but after about two hours, Cayle was finally working the right way when it came to mounting it, starting it, moving with it and driving it. By four hours Ralph had him doing so with Ralph in the back of the Chopper. By six hours, he was done and ready for the tests and races. He helped them load the cycle up into their trailer and then rode in a strange vehicle called a “Kar” which the Splinter brothers drove pulling the trailer, to the beach where the first leg of the tests would partake in.
It was only a matter of time before the other testers arrived. Cayle rolled his shoulders, stretched, and thought of all the money he was about to make doing this ‘tester’ job. The brothers had even done more than offer him money. When he started taking a liking to the bike during his practice with them, they offered him a flying turtle, or as it was going to be called for marketing purposes, the ‘Wolf Fang Chopper LITE’, when it was all done if they won the tests for the walk on motorcycle teams. The one thing they explicitly told him not to do was to hit any of the red, blue, orange, or purple buttons on the gasket. They claimed those included something of a secret weapon inspired by the Flying Turtle’s older sibling, their racing motorcycle, the Steel Nimbus.
[2139]
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