Fandom: Dragon Ball Z
Characters: Toma/Bardock
Word Count: 170
Warnings: dead dudes during death are distasteful
Summary:Then, because the alternative is worse;Toma punches the fuckwit.
Notes: ancient drabble babble
The grin pulls at Bardock's split lip, opening the scab back up. It stretches his face too wide, leaves his eyes manic and staring, the blood from the cut bright against his dirty pale face. He looks like a brutalized jester in the King's court, fruit painted mouths grimacing under the fools' noose.
"Brother," he says by way of greetings.
Hey, how ya doing. Ah lovely day, the blood pond is radiant huh.
"Oh," Toma says, vague. Strained, a little, through clenched teeth. A bit in his cheek jumps.
Then, because the alternative is worse.
Toma punches the fuckwit.
He opens the skin over his knuckles and it stings like a whore, but the way Bardock's jaw cracks against his fist, and probably broke, makes it goddamn worth it. His breath comes out heavy and deep, steaming out of nostrils like a bull. Toma flexes his fingers, cracks them, finally, because he's not a barbaric ape, says "Welcome to hell. Beers' this way."
Bardock laughs, spits blood, and laughs more