A/N: I know! It's been a long time since my last upload. I didn't think I would ever update on this account again but here we are! This is a very self-indulgent project I've been working on and I didn't expect to be sharing it with anyone. But, since I've worked a decent amount on it and I thought people might enjoy it I thought people would like to read it if they'd like. This is a story surrounded around my Xenoverse character and how he came to be involved with the main cast.
WARNING: This story has pretty heavily modified canon, including the xenoverse canon and is rated M for some of the later chapters. Let me know what you think! This will also contain a fair amount of M/M (Amaro/Turles with one-sided Cacao/Amaro)
The bar was dimly lit with hues of purple and blue, a thin veil of cigarette smoke fogging up the atmosphere. Loud and enthusiastic voices filled the bar as people enjoyed what little time off they had left before they had to get back to work. This place was known for having a bit of a seedy reputation which is what made it a profitable location for selling skills and other services.
Towards the back of the bar sat a man at the counter with slight build and tied up spiky black hair. He was wearing dark blue pants; the bottoms of his pant legs being stuffed inside his black combat boots. The chest piece was dark blue and white with no logo of any kind and a black sleeve underneath. Tail wrapped around his waist, Amaro sat on the stool of the bar watching and waiting for something to happen.
This was a place where the low lives of various planets with various skill sets hung out to sell their services. Sometimes it was all that people could offer in order to make sure they had food in their stomachs. If you had a decent reputation people knew where to start looking. Most people came in for the basic breaking and entering jobs, a few henchmen, smuggling, etc. But if you wanted the professionals, those were harder to come by unless you knew exactly where to look.
Amaro had spent the last 2 years building up his reputation. He doesn't remember much of his past life, but he remembers waking up on this planet 2 years ago with nothing but the clothes on his back(which were completely outdated based on the standards of that time, consisting of animal skins and bone). He had no memory of where he came from, no name, and no voice. There was nothing physically wrong with his vocal cords, but he still couldn't speak for a reason he didn't know. He remembered being so overwhelmed by a crowd of people when he had first arrived, the hustle and bustle of this major city felt like crawling under his skin.
Fighting and killing for money wasn't exactly the life he had dreamed for himself, but it was something to put food on the table and a roof over his head. Possessing a natural strength was something he found himself thankful for because without it he would have starved long ago. He didn't remember his past, but he remembered how to fight. It seems like his muscles remembered the feeling and sometimes it seemed like they had a mind of its own.
Upon waking up on this planet his first job, if you could call it that, was cage fighting. The kind where the stakes were too high, but if you won the match you would you'd be richer than you were 5 minutes ago. The value of a life became less with each one he took. After a certain point, he would feel nothing when he saw the life draining out of an opponent's eyes.
After that, he was part of a small gang that he had joined to get a more stable income. They realized he could get a job done quickly and quietly and from there he built up a reputation. Now, he was a freelance hitman who usually hung out at a sleazy bar called Tartarus. The jobs were usually easy enough and the pay was good since he had made a name for himself. He had come a long way from scraping for pennies in cage matches. Sometimes he still finds himself waking up at night with shaky hands remembering what it felt like punch in someone's skull and the crack of bone. He didn't sleep much these days, the bar becoming a second home when the ghosts of his past chased him out his dreams.
If you wanted someone dead and could pay the price, Amaro would gladly take care of it for you. With each hit, he hoped for a challenge, something to get his blood going, but he always found himself disappointed.
Today was just like any other. Bar brawls, bets, drunks who had a bit to much, someone drinking what they weren't supposed to and dying because their system couldn't take it. Thieves looting from people who were too far gone to notice their stuff being taken and of course, mercenaries sitting in the back waiting to be hired.
Amaro liked sitting at the counter drinking whatever tasted good to him. Nothing alcoholic when he was working since he didn't want his senses to be hindered when completing a task, plus, he was a lightweight. Last time he drank he woke up completely naked spooning a mop bucket.
Business was good for him. Word gets around that a Saiyan is willing to do work, well, let's just say people never ran out of enemies to bury. They were skeptical since Saiyans usually weren't known for their stubble nature but Amaro had built a name for himself.
This job was easy enough, but it wasn't something he wanted for his life. His love for fighting was something that kept him going. Assassin work was challenging enough but he wanted something more. He wanted to see the galaxy. Go places outside this overcrowded cesspool. Fight interesting enemies and then at the end of the day just go to sleep on a ship where a huge window overlooked the stars. He wanted to find out who he was and where he came from.
He pulled the mask that covered his mouth down a bit, so he could take a sip of the fruity concoction he was currently working on. He found himself drawn to the sweet things on this planet, his biggest vice were the almost sickeningly sweet drinks they served here. Apparently, they weren't very popular so he had shell out a bit more money for it, but it was worth every penny to him.
Looks like tonight would be uneventful, well, as uneventful as a rowdy bar could get. That is until his ears perked up as he heard soft quick steps approach him from behind.
"U-Um excuse me?" a voice came from his right. He looked over and couldn't see anyone until he looked down to see a short stout dark green man rubbing his hands together nervously. He was a Chapex. A common species here that were usually servants or accountants or people's messengers. They were easily frightened but extremely smart and resourceful.
Amaro looked over and acknowledged him turning his whole body to face the man.
"Y-You're the Saiyan assassin are you not?" the man asked again, gaining some confidence, his voice less shaky than before.
Amaro nodded and then patted the seat next to him. The Chapex shook his head quickly.
"N-No I won't take long." he pulled out a data pad and handed it over to Amaro. Amaro took it from him and began to scroll looking at the description for the job. Simple enough. Head of a rival business, simple breaking and entering there would be some bodyguards and anything he finds he's free to take.
Amaro nodded his head yes, and then the Chapex left. Someone else coming in his place. A hooded figure came his way and sat on the stool next to his. He couldn't make out who they were but Amaro didn't care as long as he was getting paid. Amaro opened the notepad on the data pad and type out his price. He didn't care so much for the money as he did for the fight, but people who had more expensive hits usually had the best fights. Multiple bodyguards involved, mechs, and security systems. Overall, a real good time.
"You're out of your mind! I'm not paying that much!" the hooded figure flinched and cursed as he saw how much Amaro was asking for. Amaro shrugged. And then continued to sip his drink. Had to let people know he was worth it, plus, it was fun to see much people were willing to pay to get ahead.
The potential client growled as he saw Amaro wasn't making indication of changing the price.
"Fine!" The hooded figure took out an envelope and then slapped it down on the counter and roughly sliding it towards the Saiyan. Amaro opened the envelope and checked to see if all the cash was there and then nodded. Taking the data pad back where all the information is.
"If I'm paying this much I want it done tonight." The hooded figure said. His face hidden by the cloak he was wearing.
Seemed fair enough and Amaro nodded again, and then went back to sipping his drink. The hooded figure let out a loud breath before getting up and leaving.
The Chapex was still at the bar a few seats away, getting a much-needed drink. Amaro noticed him and raised his glass slightly to him. The Chapex looked nervous but nodded.
Everything was normal.
That was until the door burst open with a loud thud. A group coming into the bar, some people turned their heads, others were uninterested in their arrival. Amaro was one of the interested people. He needed to know if these were people he should be wary of. It was a group of five. One bright red, one seemed to have some serious cybernetic modifications, 2 were identical, short, green with oddly shaped heads, and the one in the front was your basic humanoid could have belonged to any race with an air of arrogance that seemed to seep from every orifice. The crowd seemed to part for them as they made their way to the bar.
Amaro stayed where he was, not paying mind to them and just continuing to sip his drink at the counter. The bartender briefly glanced his way and they made an unspoken agreement to watch out. The 'leader' of said group loudly asked for a round of drinks for his friends, standing a bit too close for Amaro's tastes.
It wasn't until the leader's eyes landed on the Chapex, he laughed. The man was clearly
"And what the fuck are you supposed to be?" he slurred, the dark haired humanoid made his way towards the Chapex who flinched at the comment. Amaro's eyes zeroed in on the nervous messenger, who was just trying to enjoy the limited amount of free time he had.
Some members of the group crowded around the poor alien, while the others stood back uninterested by the entire situation. Amaro couldn't help but tense. While he was never one to bother with affairs of others unless he was paid to, he couldn't let that stand.
He got up and put a hand on the shoulder of the 'leader' who was harassing the poor Chapex.
The man turned to face him and knocked the hand off his shoulder. He was significantly taller than him, and so when he turned towered over the smaller fighter.
"What? Got something to say? Fuck off, before I show you that these muscles aren't just for show!"
Amaro didn't move, and man made a move to punch him, which Amaro almost didn't dodge. The man seemed to have some training. The punch landed on stool, which completely destroyed it. Amaro took this time to grab the back of the man's head, gripping his hair for extra leverage and bashed his face into the counter of the bar.
The counter splintered under the force, the man letting out a surprised groan. He could hear cheering and laughing coming from the rest of the bar, someone was already taking bets. He quickly moved back as the other man shot up and swung again.
His face was covered in blood that was profusely coming out of his now broken nose. The Chapex was long gone, having slipped away the moment Amaro had taken the attacker's attention.
Shit. This isn't how he wanted his night to go. He just wanted to complete his job and then go home. Now, he had to deal with this hulking arrogant man with the competence of a pebble. He didn't have time for this kind of nonsense.
Pulling out one of the smoke bombs from his pants' pocket he sees the man about to charge and he quickly throws one to the ground engulfing the entire place into a thick shroud of smoke. He could hear people coughing and starting to fight amongst themselves as he slipped out through the back door.
That was close. As much as he would have loved to finish the fight, he had a client's wishes to fulfill. There was no doubt that guy was strong. He wonders how he would fare against him if he were sober. The way his quick movement got a hold of him, even if the aim was off, if one of those hits landed he would be hurting. He would have to see if that group would come back to the bar.
He pulled out the data pad and clicked on the information he needed for his client. A basic security system and highly trained guards protecting the upper levels of the tower. This would be eventful. Time to get to work.
Breaking and entering was simple enough. He could take care of that sorry excuse for a security system even if he were blind. The layout of the tower was so predictable he just flew to the floor where he would find his target. The body guards were just as easy to get to than the security system.
Amaro kicked off the wall, ki blade wrapped around his upper arm, ready to strike the business man he had been hired to killed. There were bodyguards littered all over the ground, their various blood colors painting the once immaculately white walls.
He planned to strike directly through his chest. Until suddenly, he was knocked off course. Heat enveloping him and a strong force knocking him back, slamming against one of the nearest walls. Amaro felt his head pound like a jackhammer against his head, disoriented from the surprise blast. He quickly recovered from the shock, quickly reforming the blade on his arm.
He got into a fighting stance figuring out who it was that attempted to stop his assassination. He looked up to see the man suddenly standing in front of him, Amaro attempted to move back and the man grabbed hold of his wrist breaking the ki blade. Amaro's eyes widen as he attempted to drop kick him in so he could be released from the man's hold but the man blocked his knee with his other free hand. The man was much larger than he was, hair dark and thick with spikes going in every possible direction. Smirk tugged on his face, eyes lit with amusement. The man held an air of arrogance and power that sent shivers down his spine.
"Well, well, who do we have here. Perhaps fate brought us together." The man said tone laced with playful appreciation, looking at him like a new toy.
"Looks like you did a good job with the grunts. Let's see how well you do against me." The man griped tighter on the shorter man's wrist.
Amaro grit his teeth from the discomfort. He cocked his arm back and punched the man in the throat, which lead to him letting go, and along Amaro to put some distance between them, and giving him a space not so close to the wall.
The man was dressed in some kind of armor, white cape draping his shoulders, and a fuzzy belt wrapped around his waist. His skin just a tad darker than his own, with multiple white scars that ran down his arms and legs.
The man coughed from having his throat punched and rubbed a hand over it to clear it. He seemed to find himself pleasantly surprised by the way Amaro fought. Fast and dirty. Not one to waste time with a warm up and winning by any means necessary. Amaro was just trying to survive this encounter.
"You're pretty fast, huh?"
Amaro got back into a fighting stance, body tense and vigilant Suddenly, the man was a hair away from him leaning down against his ear and whispered, "But I'm faster." and kneed the man hard in the abdomen.
Amaro let out a choked noise as the knee to the stomach had knocked all the wind from his lungs. All he could think of was the pain, eyes almost rolling to back of his head as his brain lost oxygen, the blade once again fading from his arm.
Amaro was knocked away by the knee, but he tried to land with as much grace as he could muster. Gloved palms pressed against the floor causing them to make a skidding sound, knees sliding against the smooth material of the ground. Gasping. Trying hard to catch his breath. In all the commotion his tail had unwrapped itself from his waist, and it was puffed from the train wreck that was this beating.
This seemed to stop the man in his tracks, his eyes looking at him curiously, letting out a pensive hum.
"That explains some things." His playful demeanor now fading into a more serious front, tentatively scanning him with the green piece of glass over his face.
"That kick would have killed you if you were anyone else. I suppose the rumors were true."
Amaro didn't have the strength to hold his head up, he shook as he struggled to hold himself up. He used on arm to hold onto his stomach the pain still coming in hot throbs.
"You turned out to be a disappointment. How tragic. I'd hate to kill you, there's not many of us left, but I can't exactly let you live either." He continued to take slow steps to the body on the floor struggling to hold his own.
He heard the sound of a ki ball forming in the man's hand. He heard the footsteps coming closer and closer, his heart racing with each step. Eyes squeezed shut from the pain and internal panic. His thoughts racing to find some sort of solution. A smoke bomb wouldn't do any good, the man was close enough to snatch it from him, and he didn't know how quick he would be able to get away.
"Say hello to the rest of our people, would you?" stopping directly in from of him.
Now or never. His eyes snapped open.
The smaller Saiyan's ki blade flashing back on his arm, the warm enveloping energy bringing him so comforting and a fighting chance. Amaro moved quickly, letting out a few huffs of pain. The ki blade was now buried in the other man's ribcage and making a clean exit on the other side. Only a surprise grunt came from the other man, the ki ball he formed died in his hand, as he twitched.
Amaro's brows furrowed teeth clenched as he still felt the sharp pain in his abdomen. He could feel the warm blood dribble down his arm, droplets dripping onto the once white floor.
The other man let out a strained chuckle of amusement, his breathing becoming uneven.
"Full of surprises, aren't you?"
He heard the whiz of more ki blasts powering up behind him. He looked behind him and saw it was the same group from the bar, all powered up with ki blasts of their own.
Amaro still had the blade buried deep in the taller man's abdomen. He didn't move, as he was surrounded and outnumbered. If he were going to die, he would rather die fighting than surrendering like some coward.
"Stand down." the struggling man had commanded to his apparent subordinates.
"But Captain! -" The large red man tried to argue.
"That's an order Amond. Stand. Down." he repeated but through gritted teeth as he tried to fight the pain, his legs shaking as he struggled to stand as Amaro dug the blade deeper.
They all shot confused looks at each other but did as asked, as they lowered their arms, ki balls fading.
Amaro assessed his surroundings, and then looked into the eyes of the man he was currently stabbing. His eyes were full of excitement, though they were losing their shine due to the blood loss.
He was no fool. He took this opportunity. The blade vanished, and he quickly made an escape through one of the air vents, but not before hearing the man let out a noise of discomfort, and his subordinates asking if he was alright.
He didn't know what to think of that situation. It seemed like he was testing him? For what? He felt angry at himself for letting his guard down. But he couldn't help but feel a smidge of satisfaction. Every fight before that one had been a warm up at best. He had never been challenged like that before. He put a hand on his stomach which he was certain had already started bruising and found himself aching for another round with that man.
Amaro fights dirty, honor is for those who didn't need to fight his way to his next meal, it comes with the job. However, the man seemed to know how to deflect those who fight like he does. There were no winners in this fight but Amaro was certain he wanted a rematch.
Damn. He realized that he didn't end up killing his target. He killed a few ten or so bodyguards but not the business man. It seems like he'll have to give the money back.
But he couldn't stop thinking about that man. Captain someone called him. But Captain of what? He was too rugged to be military. Maybe another mercenary? One of Frieza's men? No, he would have been dead long ago. Frieza's men were not known for their mercy.
He needed to stop thinking about this now. No point in sticking around, he had left with his life, but his honor only semi intact. He needed to get back home to assess the damage. Also, the vents were starting to get uncomfortable.
His apartment wasn't exactly the height of luxury but in a neighborhood where places were almost constantly robbed, he thought it best not to waste his money on nice things. It was a rough place, but it wasn't too bad living here. Once you got familiar with everyone, it was just like living anywhere else.
The area was full of working girls, bums, and orphans. Pretty much those who were often overlooked and forgotten in society. He got along with most of them, giving them whatever he didn't need of the money he was paid.
The homes were overlapped over one another and stacked high in the sky. People slept in whatever corner they could squeeze themselves in. This was the neighborhood he first started out in and while he could now afford to move out, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
He shrugged off his coat onto a nearby chair and closed the door behind him. He made a beeline to the bathroom. The lightbulb didn't give off the best light, but it got the job done most of the time. He lifted his shirt with a hiss, to expose his toned abdomen which had just started to bruise.
He tentatively touched the tender area and he was reminded of those pools of black that burned with excitement and the arrogant smirk that accompanied it. Finding himself longing to see them again, he had to shake himself out of those thoughts. That was one of the most challenging fights he had encountered. The man would have killed him but…something stopped him. Why did he show mercy? Why did he say, 'our people'? What was the point?
It would take a few days to heal, he would have to use whatever medigel he had left. He grabbed the tube of medicine and gingerly applied a thin layer onto the injured area. Although, he was half tempted to leave the bruise there as a reminder of the thrill of the fight.
Letting out a soft breath he rolled down his shirt. His blood was still pumping from the fight. He couldn't get that man out of his head. Next time, if there was a next time, Amaro would be ready, he would put up more of a fight.
He kicked off his boots and got laid down on his worn bed, the sounds of people arguing and laughing drifting through his cracked window. He fell asleep to thoughts of the scenes of his earlier fight. He'd meet that man again. He was sure of it.