An elderly Native American sat in a rocking chair on a rickety porch, poised as if guarding the front door of the porch's bustling establishment. His chair creaked as he rocked back against the wooden slats beneath his chair, while his long-nailed fingers curled around the weathered chair arms. His impassively staring, gaunt face was characterized by heavy wrinkles and wizened eyes, which astutely darted to the side as another man stepped onto the porch.
The younger man was dressed in the current American, casual fashion, with his handsome face shielded by the wide brim of his hat, from beneath which an unusual lengthy black cascade of hair fell down his back. The old man tracked the younger man's movements as his boots thrummed loudly against the shifting porch boards. In passing, the young man tore a wanted poster off the wall as he moved towards the old man. He crumpled it with one hand, and then tossed it carelessly towards the older man before he entered through the swinging doors into the establishment without even a glance towards the man in rocking chair. The old man frowned deeply after him, shaking his head in disapproval of the debauchery occurring inside that place, where raucous laughter and rowdy music already purveyed the air, even at that early afternoon hour.
The tall stranger proceeded past the entrance, through the dimly lit establishment, receiving curious glances from the busy patrons as he passed. He made his way past the crowds of short skirted women and gun-carrying, tobacco-chewing gamblers, to sit on a barstool before the bald, narrow-eyed bartender. A wiry, elderly drunk with a good amount of teeth missing hiccupped in the barstool beside him, making the new arrival sneer in distaste and turn his back to the other patron as the bartender addressed his presence with feigned indifference.
"What'll it be?" The bartender toweled down the inside of a wet glass, while scrutinizing the imposing newcomer in the peripheral vision of his astute, dark-eyed gaze.
"Straight whiskey." The man ordered. As the bartender poured his drink, the man casually leaned an elbow against the bar and twisted himself around to observe the scene occurring behind him.
Loud laughter was ringing from a full, round table of card players. The game seemed to be holding everyone's attention in the saloon. The players were apparently deep into a game of poker, with one of the men leading by a wide margin, as indicated by the stack of coins by his elbow at the table.
"There's some good money in tha' game." The drunken old man informed the newcomer with a nudge of his elbow. He smiled slyly and traced the line of his white beard with his arthritic fingers. "Care to make a bet?"
The long-haired man pursed his lips pensively as he narrowed his eyes at the table in the distance, to observe the young man in the lead exposing his cards to the group with a wide grin and a triumphant gleam in his eyes. As a chorus of groans and expletives rang from the other players at the table, the man at the bar clenched his teeth together tightly, ignoring the old man who leaned into his personal space and awaited his answer.
The brush of a hand against his elbow drew the stranger out of his daze as he turned his black eyes hostilely towards the bartender who dared to touch him, though the touch was only incidental, intended for the old man who was leaning in too closely for his own good. The bartender's eyes momentarily widened in alarm at the hostile look, before he narrowed them sternly at the old man.
"Not this time, Roshi. Leave the man alone." He warned before meeting the stranger's gaze with a knowing look in his eyes.
"You're smarter than you look, Barkeep." The stranger replied with a smirk and a gentle tip of his hat.
"Tien is smart." The drunk adamantly agreed. "That's how he keeps this place running so smoothly, even with all the vagrants that pass through here."
"Roshi!"
"Got something against vagrants?" The stranger asked with amusement before the bartender could chastise his patron any further. Everyone but the cloudy-minded drunk clearly already knew the newcomer was a drifter, who could take offense to the derogatory use of the term 'vagrant'. Without awaiting a response, he lifted his chin indicatively towards the table of rowdy players and grumbled in a low voice, "Seems this town treats them pretty well from what I see."
"Huh?" The old man's gaze suddenly sobered as he narrowed his eyes to focus on the people at the poker table.
A short, demure man with a wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat at the table with an aura of status defined by the official sheriff's badge pinned on his chest.
Next to him, an elderly man, more wrinkled than the Native American rocking on the porch and the drunk at the bar, glared in frustration at his cards through his bushy white mustache which defined most of his face.
Another man at the table had a beautiful blue-haired, flirtatious woman seated on his lap. His long, black hair was secured in a tail, with a cowboy hat atop it and a faded scar across his cheek.
A very large man sat between him and the leading player, taking up most of the space at the table. His brown hair, beard and glasses would have rendered his appearance commonplace if it weren't for his size making him stand out in the crowd.
The man who had just collected chips from the other players pulled a gun and spun it playfully between his fingers as he smiled towards the rest of the table. His black hair spiked from beneath his hat in various directions, and even as he laughed joyously, his black eyes held a degree of taunting.
"There're no vagrants over there." Roshi dismissed, before turning to the bar to sip at his own glass of liquor.
The drifter snorted in disbelief, before reaching for the glass of whiskey behind him. He raised the glass to his lips and downed the liquor in one gulp before placing the glass harshly back on the bartop. He reached into his pocket and threw money on the table, far more than the drink was worth, before stepping away from the bar intently without another word.
"Haven't I seen him somewhere before?" Roshi asked with a cock of his head as he carefully studied the back of the tall, imposing figure heading to the card table.
Tien frowned at Roshi's unsettling observation. The man had never stepped foot in their town before. Either Roshi was mistaken, or he would have seen his face in a show advertisement or a wanted poster; and that man was certainly no performer.
"Care to cut me in?" The man asked with a sly smile once he reached the card players. He pulled a chair from a nearby table to seat himself without invitation.
The leading player holstered his gun before glaring warily at the newcomer, as the other players were already doing.
The short sheriff smiled apologetically and lifted his hat to expose his bald scalp. "Sorry, friend, but this is a private game." He explained before he replaced his hat and resumed shuffling the cards for their next round. He finished shuffling and put his hands in motion to deal the cards as the stranger glared stubbornly into the eyes of the man seated across the table from him.
"Sure. But you're dealing a new hand." The man persisted as he shifted his gaze momentarily back to the sheriff. He gave the table a charming smile, including a not-too-subtle leer at the voluptuous woman possessively wrapped in the scarred man's arms. "You can cut me in."
"As Sheriff Krillin just told you, friend," the blue-haired woman added with a warning glare and nervous pull at her skirt under the man's heated gaze, "this game is private."
The sheriff meaningfully placed his gun on the table with a notable thump, before scrutinizing his cards fanned before his face.
The long-haired man huffed in amusement and smirked at the silent player straight across from him who appeared to be focused on his cards. "Too private to include your own brother?"
The game players gasped and widened their eyes in alarm at the question, while looking expectantly at the man to whom the question had been clearly directed. He remained focused and seemingly ignorant of their eyes on him, even as the drifter frowned bitterly and growled with irritation at the failed recognition.
"Kakarot!"
To the drifter's displeasure, the card player's response was still delayed, his gaze only rising from his cards after the sense of everyone's eyes on him permeated his intense focus. His eyes widened in surprise before he looked around expectantly, as if someone else would come forward to claim the name.
"You must be mistaken!" The large, older man laughed heartily as their visitor seethed with frustration. The laughing man clapped his large hand heavily atop the shoulder of the focused card player seated next to him. "This is Goku. There's no Kakarot in this town."
"There is, and he's sitting right in front of me." The stranger persisted through clenched teeth as he leaned domineeringly into the table.
The man he claimed to be his brother lifted his gaze again from his cards, to raise a brow disbelievingly at that contention and address the man across the table, "what's your name, Stranger?"
The stranger chuckled in blatant disbelief, throwing his hands up in frustration. When his laughter ceased, he narrowed his eyes angrily at Goku. "Five years. It's been five goddamned years, Kakarot. What the hell have you been doing all this time?"
Goku frowned deeply in disappointment at his response. "I'm sorry you lost someone. I'm sure the sheriff can help you locate who you're looking for. If you still have something to say to me, we can talk. After this hand." Goku added that last statement with insistence that starkly contrasted the friendly tone he had been using. He narrowed his eyes at the newcomer before smirking as a fire lit his eyes, one the irritated brother was certain he knew all too well. "I don't like quitting when I'm on a winning streak."
"No. You don't." The stranger agreed knowingly with a hard stare.
The others eyed the two men as tension spread around the table. The card players exchanged questioning glances with one another, unsure how to proceed from there, until the drunk at the bar yelled out loudly. "Now I know where I seen him!" He slurred as he threw a hand up in the air and nearly fell out of his chair. "That man there is a Saiyan!"
The blue haired woman gasped in alarm, as a hush otherwise fell over the saloon. The music stopped, other patrons stopped talking and stared, and the card players stared long and hard at their visitor. Goku stubbornly returned his gaze to his cards as a long-haired, curvy blond made her way over to the town's infamous visitor with a sly smile.
"Well, well. A Saiyan in West City. Never thought I'd see the day." She purred seductively as she placed both hands on his shoulders, before leaning down to entice him with the view of her exposed cleavage. "If you're looking for a little entertainment after you're done playing games, Honey, give me a ring." She informed him with a finger pointed in the direction of where she could be found. As the blond woman smiled slyly at the intrigued gaze of her target, the music started back up in the saloon.
"Place your bets." Goku said to his associates, before getting the game started with his own bet.
As the game continued, the Saiyan sank casually into his chair, carefully scrutinizing Goku the entire time. Goku mostly focused on the game, yet stopped to study his confounding pursuer from time to time, until the game reached its end. When the game finished with Goku winning yet another round, he happily collected the monies from his surrounding players, until the elderly, moustached man drew a gun on him. Goku froze as the Saiyan and all the others startled defensively at the hostile move.
"Put down your gun, Dr. Gero." Krillin warned as he reached for his gun which had sat on that table through the card game.
"Sheriff, this man is a cheat!" The doctor retorted while refusing to lower his gun or remove his gaze from Goku. "A lousy, no good cheat!"
Goku blinked innocently at the disgruntled old man.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Gero." The blue haired woman warned reasonably. "There are a lot of witnesses here. Even if you kill Goku, you'll never see that money again."
"Bulma's right." The sheriff agreed as he tightened his grip on the revolver he kept trained on the murderous card player. "Just drop the gun, and we'll all forget this ever happened. Right, Goku?"
"Definitely." Goku replied with an easy smile, though he kept his gaze intently fixed on the man threatening him.
The Saiyan carefully observed the interactions, his fingers itching for the gun at his holster beneath the table if the need arose. Gero's gaze softened in consideration of their arguments, but then he glanced at the coins piled on the table in front of Goku and growled in aggravation as he tightened his finger on the trigger.
"No!" Krillin yelled as he prepared to fire, while the deafening blast of a gunshot was already ringing through the saloon.
Everyone froze in anticipation, until Goku leaned back in his chair, lifting his smoking gun from beneath the table. Dr. Gero gaped and grunted in pain, before he fell forward, stumbling to the floor from his chair.
"You dirty bastard! That was my knee!" Gero screamed in agony as the stout sheriff stood.
The rest of the saloon patrons, who had been startled by the gunshot, gradually resumed their previous activities as Krillin walked around to the wounded man's side of the table. Krillin rolled his eyes as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.
"You're lucky it wasn't your head." Krillin muttered before pulling Gero off the ground forcefully by his elbow. He slapped the cuffs on the grimacing man, who glared indignantly as the cold metal snapped around his wrists.
"What are you doing?! He's the one that shot me!" Gero shouted as he furiously bared his teeth and thrashed towards Goku. "He's the cheat!" He cried as he struggled in Krillin's relentless grasp and Krillin received an appreciative smile from Goku.
"Looks like duty calls, my dear." The scarred man grumbled as he lightly pressed to lift the woman seated on his lap. The woman accommodated him by rising to her feet, revealing with her removal from his lap his outfit which also adorned a badge like Krillin's. "I hope to see you again soon, Bulma." He attempted to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away in alarm as Gero growled irately in the continued struggle moving towards the door just behind her.
Bulma giggled as she endearingly petted the deputy's chest. "You'd better get moving, Yamcha. I think Krillin could use your help."
"Then I guess this is goodnight." Yamcha said to Bulma with a fond smile and tip of his hat as he hurriedly followed Krillin out the swinging saloon doors.
"You need someone to walk you home, Bulma?" Goku asked as he stood from the table, holstering his gun and smiling widely at the beautiful lady, who was receiving many unsolicited looks from the other male patrons of the saloon.
Bulma smiled appreciatively at Goku before looking meaningfully towards the imposing Saiyan rising to his feet at the other end of the table. "Thanks, Goku, but I don't think your Saiyan friend would like that too much." Bulma admitted with a sly smile at the glowering outlaw.
Goku frowned deeply at the reminder, causing Bulma's brows to furrow with concern.
She leaned closer and grabbed Goku's arm lightly, whispering into his ear, "You gonna be alright being left alone with that man?" She pulled back to study Goku's reaction. When his expression proved impassive and his gaze shifted warily to the expectantly waiting long-haired man, Bulma frowned worriedly. "You didn't take his money in a game of cards five years ago, did you?"
Goku furrowed his brows in concentration as he looked at Bulma, before glancing at the Saiyan and back to Bulma again, shaking his head. "I honestly don't remember if I did." Goku admitted openly, before frowning at the Saiyan again and grumbling under his breath. "But this 'brother' approach is a new one if that's what this is all about."
"I'll say." Bulma agreed as she leaned to the side to glance past Goku at the striking figure of his supposed brother. "Think he's crazy?"
Goku laughed at Bulma's question, causing her to forgo all seriousness and laugh along with him. "Probably just drunk. I'll be fine, Bulma." Goku said assuredly as he lightly placed his hand on her delicate shoulder. "You'd better be going though. It'll be dark soon, and nighttime is no time for a lady to be out alone in this town."
"Here, Bulma. I'll escort you home." The gargantuan card player offered. "I'd better be going anyways." He rose to his feet with a grunt and notable strenuous effort. "My daughter probably could use some help getting supper on the table right about now."
Bulma smiled at the man as he steadied himself on his feet and extended his elbow in offer. "Thank you kindly, Mr. King." Bulma said as she looped her arm around his and the pair headed towards the exit of the saloon. "I'll be sure to let my father know how kind you've been when he goes to make his bank deposit later in the week."
Goku watched the pair until they were out the door, which the Saiyan did in turn as he observed Goku's behavior. Goku exchanged a momentary look with the Saiyan before wordlessly returning to the table to collect his winnings in a bag he'd left on the ground. After his money was collected, with the Saiyan patiently waiting in silence, Goku lifted the glass containing the remains of his liquor he'd been imbibing during the card game, chugging the remnants in one smooth gulp.
With a sigh of satisfaction and a sweep of his arm across his face to remove the lingering moisture, he pulled the strap of the bag over his shoulder and proceeded to the exit of the establishment, as if completely ignoring the Saiyan's shadowing presence. He slammed the doors open and tipped his hat to the elderly Native American still rocking on the porch as he passed.
"Goodnight, Goku." The old man called after him.
Goku waved over his shoulder as he descended the few steps of the porch to the level of the dirt street, with the Saiyan in tow. "Goodnight, Kami!" He called from a distance as he continued making his way down the wide, dirt street.
After a few minutes of pursuit, which gradually increased in haste as their distance from the saloon grew, the Saiyan snarled in frustration. "Hey!" He yelled forcefully, causing Goku to stop abruptly and stiffen at the address. "Is this it, Kakarot? You're just going to avoid me now?"
Goku glared to himself before suddenly spinning to lunge at the other man. He raised his forearm and charged him forcefully into the side of a building, away from the highly visible main street down which they had been traveling. Goku pinned his forearm across the Saiyan's throat, baring his teeth angrily at the taller man.
The Saiyan was initially taken aback by the sudden attack, but promptly recovered from his surprise as he smiled in amusement, even as his throat was being painfully crushed. Reluctantly, Goku eased off his counterpart, giving the Saiyan the opportunity to speak after the release of a few brief coughs.
"Same old Kakarot." Was the Saiyan's choice of words as he rubbed his throat soothingly from that bruising contact.
Goku pressed the Saiyan against the wall hard with his forearm propped against the Saiyan's chest. "Dammit, will you quit calling me that?!"
"Why not? It's your name." The Saiyan sneered as he reached his hands up to pull Goku's restraining arm off his chest.
Goku allowed his arm to slide to his side at the Saiyan's pull as he sighed with frustration before looking around anxiously. The sun had been setting during their card game in the saloon. The evening sky was now darkened with only a hint of the sunset remaining to light the road. A few horses were tied up nearby, making their quiet, animalistic noises, while yards away, the faint laughter of children playing could be heard. A man passed by on the main street, oblivious to their presence as he called drunkenly to a friend in the distance.
The Saiyan smiled triumphantly to himself as he observed Goku's careful scrutiny of their surroundings. After assessing their level of privacy, Goku turned back to stare into the Saiyan's eyes with a bitter frown.
"What do you want, Raditz?"
A/N: I did some research on the way people lived in mining/railroad towns and historic cities like Tombstone. The history was really entertaining, which took me by surprise, because I've honestly never been a big fan of Westerns. A lot of the way they lived and the roles in those towns in those days mesh well with the DBZ universe.
No offense is intended by the portrayal of these characters as certain races or in particular societal roles. It is just a matter of portraying the time period/setting accurately, with the best fit for these DBZ characters, which in no way is meant to insult or degrade any of the characters, but every town had drunks, hustlers, prostitutes, racists, cheaters, corrupt officials (who all could be very respectable at that time, even the prostitutes)...it was just the way the west worked.