Dark clouds hung over the assembly of imposing metal spires and complex layout of streets and traffic lights that made up downtown Buran City. The night was a quiet one, save for the occasional rustling of insects, bits of trash tumbling down the sidewalks and the sirens of police craft on their late night patrol. In the southwestern-most corner of the city, there was a pharmacy with its windows sealed shut and an abandoned factory. Nestled between these two buildings was an unlit, narrow hallway of sorts. At the end of this passage was an unassuming dark blue door. What was on the other side of this door is something a greenhorn to the area could not expect.
It wasn't a storage room for either of the two neighboring buildings, nor was it empty. Tucked on the other side of this door was the Dushin Tavern. The floor was built with dark brown wood, and the walls were a white stone, adorned with lights and a variety of trinkets, including trophies, paintings and miscellaneous knick-knacks with questionable origins. At the end of the room was a fairly conventional bar with stools, a table and a rack of brews and spices, and to the right side of the room were stairs that led up to a second floor containing rentable rooms of various sizes. In its glory days, the tavern was a booming enterprise for a variety of guests. However, in these highly competitive and industrial times, the tavern had gained a new audience: a hideout for petty criminals. But tucked beneath the colorful swarm of petty crooks, boastful thugs and sniveling extortionists was a strangely out-of-place figure.
"Waiter!" Upon hearing this call, the burly butler with scarlet skin and a single crooked horn jutting from his forehead momentarily ceased sifting through the shelf behind the counter and turned around. He was stunned by who he saw staring back at him. For a moment he hesitated, but there was no doubt who it was; sitting on the centermost stool at the bar was the slender, white-skinned, blue-armed, black-tailed figure of the Arcosian crime lord Frost.
"Oh goodness, excuse my manners Mr. Frost! Make no mistake, I am honored by your presence at this tavern. With that said, isn't this place a little out of your league?"
"I don't want to talk about what I've been through these past few months. Just know that I don't have much money right now." Lightly placing a few brass coins on the counter, he added, "Just get me the best spirit this amount can buy."
While he hadn't been given any details on what this so-called turmoil was, the butler had had enough experience serving criminals that he knew what he might be talking about. He could see it in the alien's bloodshot eyes with dark blue bags just underneath him; he was a man on the run.
Upon being given a supple mug of scotch, Frost wasted no time gulping it down. It didn't matter how stale or poorly-aged it was compared to the fine champagne he was used to embibing; he just needed to get away for a moment. To get away from the constant mad rush to stay ahead of the law. To get away from his restless nights where he worried that time would suddenly stop, and that when it rebegan, he would have mere seconds of conciousness left to breath his final breaths. Oh, how he yearned for the good old days of walking around the gold-encrusted halls of his palace, watching the money pour in from his illegal hedge funds and fake charities, conversing with other high-profile gang leaders and bosses while watching the delightful dances of imported Earthling and Tuffle escorts...
But much like the few pleasures he could obtain in these harrowing times, the Arcosian's bout of introspection was cut off by a commotion at the door of the tavern. Still holding the mug, he turned around to see almost everyone in the bar crowded around a stubby hooded figure. By squinting a bit, Frost could make out the creature under the robe to be a Namekian. Already this was suspicious; Namekian criminals were incredibly uncommon. Even the goody-two-shoes Saiyans produced more rejects than them. To make matters even stranger, the man was being followed by two other aliens. To his left was a tall, dark green alien with a long portruding head, yellow eyes and black armor with two green spikes portruding from each shoulder plate. To his right was an elderly blue man, his face covered with wrinkles, long, white hair and a white mustache. The man also wore pink armor covered by layers of white cloth and a cape. This scene implied the little Namekian was in a position of power. This further unnerved Frost; Namekian criminals were one thing, but Namekian bosses were practically unheard of. And yet, in spite of how bizarre this sight was, it didn't confuse Frost. In fact, there was a nagging sensation in the back of his head that he had seen these people before...
Finally, after nearly a minute of murmuring and confusion, the Namek lifted his hood, revealing a lime head with dark green spots decorating his temporal regions. His voice was high-pitched, yet firm as he exclaimed "You there! Are you Frost?" The titular former crime lord woke up from his daze and hastily replied "Oh, yes yes. Listen, I'm not in the mood to talk right now..."
Before he could finish his statement, the midget marched up to him, cutting him off. "Oh, don't worry. I have already heard from your former comrades about your... ...predicament. I know full and well the hardship of being on the run. In fact, it is part of the reason I have come to you, Frost. You are stuck in a bad situation, and I can help you get out of it. In fact, with your cunning and my power and planning, we can bring about a new era on this entire Universe; an era where you and I are the pinnacle of wealth and power. Will you take this journey with me?"
Frost was stunned by the offer. Normally, he would discard such a thing as a ridiculous scam, or the tryhardish boasts of a rookie in the crime business. But now was not the time for cautiousness. Anything was better than running amock while barely fending off exhaustion. But still, he needed some sort of certainty. "Very well," the criminal stated, "but first I would like to know your name."
"I'm glad you asked. My name is Garlic Jr."
At the mention of this name, the whispering of the other frequenters of the tavern grew into loud, nervous murmuring. Frost's exhaustion temporarily melted away as a surge of memories returned to him of his earliest days as a grunt in smaller gangs. In his limited free time and during lunch breaks, he would regularly hear news from other crooks and his various bosses about the Namekian tyrant Garlic, who brought about destruction and oppression wherever he went. He now understood why the sight of Garlic Jr. and his minions was so familiar; he had seen those very same minions in newspaper articles about their troop's cunning and power. Garlic's reign of terror had ended quite some time ago, but now here was his own son standing before him, offering a chance to escape an endless downward spiral of poverty and fleeing. Frost now knew what his path would be.
"I a-accept your offer." the Arcosian stammered. Garlic Jr., with a crooked grin on his face, replied "Excellent. Now, let's rent you a room and get you rested. We have much to discuss."
As Frost, Garlic Jr. and his minions walked up the flight of stairs, the Namekian chimed in "Oh, how disrespectful of me! I almost forgot to introduce my partners. The blue one is Nicky. He's been serving the Garlic lineage ever since my father was in the prime of his days as a conqueror. He may be a little old now, but he can still provide great wisdom and companionship." At this compliment, Nicky closed his eyes and gave off a playful smile. His boss then continued his speech. "The big one is Sansho. He's the muscle of our team, and will be your bodyguard for the night." Frost had to resist jumping for joy at his news. A bodyguard, yes!
Finally, the party reached their room. Nicky pulled out a key he had gotten from the red man at the counter and turned open the door. The layout was modest; a two-room abode with a bedroom and a bathroom. Still, it would do. As Frost pathetically tumbled on the soft mattress, Garlic spoke to him one last time. "I can see that you're tired. Don't get too comfortable; we'll have to leave first thing in the morning. Once we get on my ship, I'll lay out the plan to you." Frost simply nodded off this statement before sleeping soundly for the first time in a long while.