Tynzien's Saga: Omega Alpha

by Ash The Wanderer

Chapter 3 Summery: Tynzien tries to find the mysterious Tarlos girl, Lyre tries to find peace between the Tarlos and Roes, and Syria just finds trouble. But they might wanna find out who that mysterious space figure is, and if I'll ever update again!

3. Culture Shock

Chapter 2: Culture Shock

Tynzien couldn't stop staring at the drapes.

He'd seen a lot in his travels around the universe, and he was no stranger to wealth, having encountered it a few times. But the drapes…

They looked like pure liquid gold, flowing down from above the window to the floor. The material was so lustrous and radiant it didn't look like material at all. It was as if pure sunshine was continually cascading down around the windows, a waterfall of luminescence.

It was beautiful.

But at the same time it was just so…excessive.

The drapes were the biggest example, but others surrounded Tynzien. The bed he had been given could have seated seven of his species. He could have TRAINED in his closet, it was so huge. And it seemed like nothing in the room didn't seem to have an element of luxury, with precious metals and gems seemingly embedded and woven into everything. The only place excluded was the bathroom, which had relieved Tynzien. He was not sure what he would have done if he had walked in and found gem-encrusted toilet paper.

Old money, indeed. And a lot of it.

The Roes' section of the city Xalmer had led them to seemed to have nothing in it but big buildings. There was no evidence oft anything small or reasonable. It was disturbing on a multitude of levels.

Another thing was there were no industries, only homes. Tynzien could have accepted the lack of small structures if some of the buildings were factories or warehouses, but no, they were all residences. When Tynzien had inquired, Xalmer had given a runaround answer that only told Tynzien that they disliked having industries around where they lived for various reasons. Of course, there was an undercurrent of hate as Xalmer mentioned the Tarlos had such facilities mixed in amongst their section. Tynzien had only gotten a brief glimpse of it. It was definitely grimier then the Roes…but considering how fanatical the bird creatures seemed to be with cleanliness, it might be the more normal of the two.

And then it had been a blur of introductions as Xalmer brought Tynzien and his friends to the building that housed their main government. All Tynzien was able to gather in the rush was that the Roes' government had a heavy social influence. The serious elder avian men who chaired what appeared to be the head of this particular city seemed to be outnumbered by various women who seemed to have nothing better to do then to stand around, gossip, and plan various social affairs. It seemed less like a government structure as the structure of a major company, a board of CEO's rather then leaders.

The only other thing Tynzien was able to gather was an invitation to one of these social affairs. Xalmer was only able to tell Tynzien they would sort out everything at said party, and then he had been spirited away as well. Apparently Xalmer had political duties as well as being an observer to military functions. And then Tynzien had been brought here. Syria and Lyre had been taken to their own quarters, and then…

"KNOCK KNOCK!" came a loud yell from outside, even as a loud banging accompanied it. Before Tynzien could do anything besides rise to his feet, the door opened and Syria walked in.

"I don't believe it! It IS possible for more then one of these kinds of rooms to exist. Shit!" Syria said, looking around at the excess Tynzien had been noting just a minute ago.

"……..Don't do that Syria. It's not smart to startle a saiya-jin." Tynzien said.

"It's not smart to tell me what to do either, Tyn." Syria replied. She glanced at Tynzien and her eyes widened.

"Yee gods Tyn, you're almost shining! I need my shades!" Syria exclaimed.

"It's not my fault. They asked me to wear formal wear, but I don't have any, so they said they would wash my clothes and armour and…"

"Clean you up?" Syria finished. "Did they give you a bath too?"

Tynzien's eyes widened.

"They GAVE you a bath?"

"They had three servant girls literally do everything for me! They took my clothes, they drew the bath, they washed my hair, they dressed me, they did everything except wipe my ass, and I have a feeling that if I asked, they would have done that too! Do you know how weird it is to be bathed by three grown women like you were a baby? I thought I had wandered into one of those pornographic films Century was studying a while back."

"I can imagine." Tynzien said, although in truth he was doing his best NOT to imagine it, lest the male part of his brain take the image and run with it.

"Well anyway, the end result is, I'm all nice and dolled up. They even gave me perfume. How's it smell?" Syria asked, literally thrusting herself under Tynzien's nose. Tynzien was expecting her to do something like that this time though, and he calmly took a sniff.

His nose wrinkled.

"It's so strong…I don't think it suits you." Tynzien replied. It definitely didn't suit him. He far preferred the slightly sweet scent Syria usually gave off.

"Really? Hmmpphhh, just like the rich to get it wrong. Although they didn't get you wrong Tyn. You're so…clean!"

"Well, thanks." Tynzien replied sarcastically.

"I mean, more then usual. What, did they have three girls bath you too?"

"Uh no, a servant drew a bath for me but I bathed myself, and they cleaned my outfit like yours…that's about it." Tynzien said. Before he could say anything else, there came a slight knock on the door.

"It's open!" Syria snapped. A second later the door opened. Tynzien's brow arched as a Tarlos came in. It was clearly another servant. I guess they hire outside the labour pool for some things.

"Lord Tynzi…oh sir, am I intruding?" The servant asked.

"He wishes you were! What's the scoop?" Syria asked.

"Um…the engagement is about to commence…if you would follow me…" The servant said, turning around.

"Ok, let's go party Tyn! It's clear you won't be having any fun in here!" Syria said, and headed after the servant after giving him a suggestive wink. Tynzien closed his eyes forcefully. He was really beginning to hate how Syria did that.

"Bath…I should have taken a cold shower!"

And then he headed after Syria.

Lyre was out in the hall. Syria was staring at him.

"Whoa Lyre, nice threads!" Syria exclaimed. Indeed, Lyre was wearing a fancy one-piece black outfit that vaguely resembled his fighting clothes, with additional straps and buckles.

"Thank you Syria…it was Yarwus formal wear…I had to dredge my memory but I was able to eventually duplicate it on my form."

"I see…they certainly were able to make it quickly for you."

"Oh, they didn't make it. I materialized it myself."

Syria stared at Lyre.

"You can create clothes? Why didn't you say so! You could have made me a dress!"

Lyre blushed slightly.

"I am sorry Syria…for years all I have ever used that talent for was to make my normal and fighting outfits…I had to concentrate fully just to recall an old line of clothing for MY species. I will need more practice before I am able to create clothing for others. Do not trouble yourself. You look lovely."

Now it was Syria's turn to blush.

"Right this way people." The servant said.

"Hey Lyre, how big is your room?" Syria asked, as they followed the man down the hall.

"Gigantic. I've never seen anything like it."

"Oh good. Hey, did you get bathed by three servant girls?"

"Um, no, I cleaned myself."

"Good. Hey Tyn, you aren't alone in your disappointment!"

"Syria…!"

Tynzien didn't think his surprise could get any greater, but it did when he saw the layout.

It wasn't the chairs or the tables that seemed to cost a small fortune to design. It wasn't the draperies, the carpeting, or the clothes all the Roe guests were wearing. It wasn't even the fact that there seemed to be a dozen different kind of forks. It was the food.

One part of his surprise was there was so…MUCH. The saiya-jin species had an incredibly fast metabolism and required massive amounts of calories to go at the pace it usually did. Tynzien went at an even faster pace then most did, or would have if his species weren't virtually extinct. But the amount of food set out…even HE would have been stuffed. Hell, the layout looked like it could satisfy half a dozen saiya-jins.

And the other part was how the food had been…well, designed. It hadn't just been cooked and laid out. It was if the cooks were all part time artists, as it seemed everything was sculpted and coloured to look like the culinary equivalent of the Mona Lisa. It was so extreme Tynzien felt bad about having to eat it, as doing so would ruin the spectacle.

"Man, did they hire cooks or avant-garde artists?" Syria muttered. Tynzien glanced at her. Apparently she shared his opinions. Lyre was quiet.

"Ah Tynmien, I assume you were well taken care of?" Xalmer said, breaking from a group of Roes he had been conversing with and approaching Tynzien. He had changed clothes as well, and was now wearing a light purple robe with gold and bronze trimming. His wings were tucked closely to his back, as were all the Roes.

"It's TynZIEN, Xalmer." Tynzien corrected.

"Ah, I apologize. I have arranged seating for you. Tynzien, you will sit at the head table…Miss…?" Xalmer inquired, looking at Syria.

"Syria."

"Syria. You will sit with the women…"

"What? Why?"

"They requested your presence." Xalmer said, with a clear look that suggested to Syria they were trying to be polite. Syria signed.

"Ok fine…bunch of sexist chauvinist…" Syria said before her voice trailed into a mutter of Raeus curses.

"I am not sure where to seat you good Namek…there are several places…"

"Whatever is most convenient."

"Very well. If you wish that, you may sit with the attending military faction. I am sure as a soldier you will get along with them."

"I am sure I will." Lyre said.

"Just so you know, if you Roes are planning something separating us will not decrease our ability to kick your butts." Syria said. Xalmer looked at Syria in confusion.

"Excuse me?" Xalmer said. Now he was beginning to look worried. Syria mentally kicked herself when she realized why.

"That was a joke! You know, ha ha?" Syria explained. Xalmer looked relieved when he realized the girl wasn't threatening to attack him.

"It is a strange sense of humour…"

"You have no idea Xalmer."

"TYN!"

Tynzien could appreciate the irony. He was eating some kind of fish newly caught from artificial waters, and he certainly felt like a fish out of water.

First of all, there was the way the Roes ate. Tynzien was used to just stuffing the food down his gullet, and he had better manners then most saiya-jins. Syria wasn't much better, especially when she was hungry. Lyre just drank water, so he didn't count.

But the Roes made a meal into a virtual ritual. Every course needed some new utensil, a new glass, new drinks. This was the forth plate served to him and Tynzien was even more confused then when he started. Some of the Roes, emboldened by drink, were snickering at his supposed incompetence. Tynzien ignored them, even as he politely tried to figure out what he was doing wrong. Lessee…three prongs with curved tips, I'm using the right fork…everyone else is drinking the purple stuff…wait, wrong knife! I'm using the wrong knife!….I can't believe I just thought that! Never in my life did I ever…

Tynzien was brought out of his thoughts as someone was speaking to him.

"Tynzien, this is Lord Kaster. He wishes to know how your race organized things." Xalmer was saying. Tynzien cocked his head. Most of the table was paying attention to him now. Great. What do they care about saiya-jin politics? Are they generally interested, or do they have a more sinister purpose? Although I see little in how it could harm me.

"You do know what my race was known for, don't you?" Tynzien asked cautiously.

"If you mean their barbaric bloodthirst and destruction, yes we know. Some even tried to take our planet, but we taught them a good lesson in manners, didn't we men?" Kastor said boisterously. The table roared with laughter and the clinking of drinks. Tynzien scowled. That isn't something to laugh about. Maybe I should ask how much they did and how much the Tarlos did. That ought to spoil the mood.

But Tynzien was polite and said nothing, waiting for the laughter to die down. Then he went on.

"My race was a simple sort…we settled most everything by fighting, to the death, more often then not. We had one king, usually the mightiest warrior, and his rule was absolute. Anything he said was law. Which is one of the reasons I was exiled. In the end I'd said it fared far better for me then it did for them."

"Indeed. A race of barbarians destroyed by an even greater barbarian! Fate must have a sense of humour!" Kastor roared in the same boisterous tone. More responding laughter. Now Tynzien could feel a faint stirring of anger. It's easy to sit on this podium you constructed and pass judgement on my species…but ease does not equal justification. My race was flawed…but that was the way it was…why do these men thing they can sit here and say those things…

"However, as bad as the saiya-jins were, they are nothing compared to those Tarlos!" one of the men said. Tynzien stiffened. Here we go.

Syria wanted to pull out her hair. It would be far more entertaining and less painful then what she was going through now.

If Tynzien was a fish out of water, she was a speck of anti-matter amongst a field of matter. All the Roe women talked about were how they got ahead in life. Syria had been quiet as they rambled on charity this and function that, acting like showing up to a party, eating an overdone meal, and dancing on a floor before writing out a check was the hardest and greatest thing that could be done. Their constant attempt to one-up each other to inflate their egos and sense of self-worth began to grate on Syria's nerves five minutes into the party, and her reminders that this was what they knew was beginning to lose their effectiveness.

"Oh, I recently had this DARLING little soiree for Tarlos orphans…those beasts can't even take care of their children! Oh, the little darlings were so cute in the uniforms I had made up for them…" one of the women was saying. Syria stared at her. This woman couldn't possibly exist. She was a caricature, a one-dimensional vacuous airhead. She should only be able to exist in a bad Victorian novel, not eating a meal in front of Syria that probably cost more then a Tarlos saw in a year, if their poverty was as bad as these Roes said it was.

"…it was so cute to see them serving the food…"

THAT got Syria's full attention.

"Excuse me?" Syria interrupted. The Roe women turned their attention to her. "Let me get this straight. You held a party to help the orphaned children and you used them to SERVE THE FOOD?"

"Well yes…I couldn't just give it to them. They need to learn that you have to work hard to get anywhere in life…best teach it to them young. It's not like I worked them for eighteen hours straight lashing them with a whip. They helped serve the meals, that's all."

"They volunteered this aid?"
"Well no, but as I said…"

"Let me say something. They're children! That's…just…" Syria struggled with her temper as she tried to find a proper word. Now all the women were looking at her like she was some strange exotic disease.

'Well what did you do with orphans on your planet, young lady? I assume you were civilized enough to take care of them."

"………For the last ten years my planet was embroiled in a civil war. There were a lot of orphans…including me." Syria said bitterly as old bad memories came up. The Roes put on a show of shock and sympathy, but Syria could see right through it. They didn't really care, and she couldn't blame them.

"We had a lot of children in the resistance…but we looked after them. We didn't use them as labour, no matter what. If they did anything, it was because they wanted to. No other reason. The war's over now…hopefully we can find these children new homes…" Syria said. She decided to leave out her part in said resistance, including a string of futile battles, incredible stress, and rotten boyfriends.

"Well that is our problem Miss Syria. We need to fund those orphanages because the Tarlos are nowhere near as kind as your race! Adoptions are virtually non-existent! So is funding for them! If we don't do something, those children will either starve, die of disease, or be sold into the sickening underground that provides so much of the Tarlos' business! We have to do it, because those filthy Tarlos won't!"

The female Roes' words set off a chain reaction of criticisms as the various women moaned on how terrible the Tarlos were. Syria stared at them. She felt bile begin to rise in her throat.

I'm beginning to wish we hadn't killed Malleus, Emporer, or Torchixstra. I could really use a revenge-seeking villain about now!

Lyre was not having the problems Tynzien and Syria were having. The military people he was sitting with were far more interested in hearing his experiences as a fellow soldier then speaking of the lofty social affairs that were so aggravating to Tynzien and Syria. Lyre was happy to oblige. He loved a good tale himself. At the moment he was telling the story of his fight with Koola.

"At this point he tried to whip me with his tail, but I grabbed it and hurled him through some of his computers. He tried to blast me, but I was too quick and was swiftly on him again, raining down fists…" Lyre said, as he used various motions to describe his fight. The Roe soldiers listened in great interest. It wasn't every day you met a warrior who had survived a battle with one of the feared Transformer-Jins.

"He plastered me with a punch, but I was far from done, as I redoubled my efforts…"

Tynzien was remembering the time Century had had to give him a root canal. It had occurred to him because as unpleasant as it had been, it was nowhere near how unpleasant this entire situation had become.

Century had been off. The Roes didn't just dislike the Tarlos. They HATED the Tarlos. It seemed every other comment was an insult or a criticism. Frankly, Tynzien was getting sick of it. They had insulted his race, but all they knew about them was their reputation and a lone attack on their planet. That could explain a negative opinion. Lack of information was usually the cause of it.

But the Roes had lived beside the Tarlos for centuries. To have such a hatred for them…there must have been a deep wound. Tynzien decided he may as well try and probe it. It probably couldn't hurt any worse.

"Excuse me…if I may interrupt…" Tynzien said loudly. "Is it really fair to say such things? The Tarlos aren't exactly here to defend themselves…"

"Wouldn't do them much good! They'd just grunt and assume we knew what they were saying!" Kastor replied. More laughter. Tynzien rolled his eyes. Ok, what I was able to tell from my brief meeting with those Tarlos wasn't much, but they aren't all brain-dead Cro-Magnon's, or whatever the Tarlos were in their pre-evolution state.

"But…why insult them so much? What did they do? Did a Tarlos kill your family or something?" Tynzien replied, deciding it would be best if he were blunt. His question seemed to dull Kastor's good mood somewhat, but he did not get angry.

"……….You really don't know much, do you?" Kastor said.

"I will confess some ignorance on the workings of this place." Tynzien replied.

"Kastor, I am sure our guest is not very interested in…" Xalmer said, trying to defuse a potential situation.

"He asked Xalmer. I will answer." Kastor said. "Tynzien, the Tarlos are barbaric. While we work in honesty to get our money and comforts, the Tarlos have virtually no honest industry. All their money comes from criminal activity! Virtually every one of them is a criminal or employed by one. Their "police" force is a total joke, as virtually all of them are in various people's pockets. And their "mayor" hasn't been honest in the past three hundred years! It's disgusting! We have to live next door to a society of hooligans, theieves, murdereres, rapists, sadists, and madmen!"

But how much of that is true and how much of that is propaganda? Tynzien wanted to ask, but he didn't get the chance as Kastor went on.

"Some of them have been smart and have come into our society to work for us. And before you decry that, I will tell you it is far better then what usually awaits you in that den of depravity. If you don't get involved in their vast underground network, you may be able to eak out a meager living in one of their few enterprises, but it's not likely. More likely you'll starve, or die in one of those barbaric blood sports they hold to entertain their bloodthirsty rabble, or worst of all, you'll be sold into the underground. Serving our food and making our beds is nothing compared to what will happen to you if you become the property of their main "industry"!" Kastor said in a torrent of vile, saying the word "industry" the last time like it was the dirtiest of words.

Tynzien was silent. Once again he was stuck with questions on how much of this was true and how much of this was not.

"Well I…" Tynzien began.

"And if that is not enough, look who they respect most of all! Who they revere as someone special! The people we remember have all been philosophers and writers. Who do they worship as a living legend? That sadistic maniac known as Zarbon! He works for that psychotic despot Freiza, a being with such immense power he can destroy planets on a whim, and of so little sanity he has done that, many times! He even destroyed your planet!"

"I know." Tynzien said quietly.

"Is that not enough for you to understand? The Tarlos, they are…are…"

"Evil?" Tynzien offered.

"…….Yes!"

Tynzien blinked.

"Kastor…in my travels I have encountered many beings…and I have encountered evil. Perhaps the Tarlos are as decadent and amoral as you say…but I find it is best not to judge before you have walked a mile in their shoes, lest history record you as the fool…"

"Oh what do you know anyway!?!"

The reply had not come from Kastor, nor had it come from Xalmer. It was a previously unheard voice in the conversation. Tynzien turned towards it.

In the time he had chosen to remain silent, the Roe had gotten very close to Tynzien, and as Tynzien saw him he took the last few staggering gaits needed to get close to him. Tynzien was hit with a foul wash of odors, one prevailing among them. Alcohol.

"You tell us we shouldn't judge the Tarlos…you, a saiya-jin?" the Roe slurred. He was obviously very very drunk.

"Kastor, Trilax has become inebriated again! I thought we agreed this would not be allowed to happen!" Xalmer whispered angerily to Kastor, as Trilax reeled and tried to get his next words out. Tynzien was staring at him in confusion.

"What was I supposed to do, Xalmer? Watch him all the time? Why didn't you get one of the servants to do it?"
"You think I trust those Tarlos to keep a promise?"

"Your species…did things that are just as bad as the Tarlos! You should be on your hands and knees thanking whatever foul god your species worshipped that you should be allowed in here with us! I swear I could smell your stench everywhere! So don't tell us what we should do!"

Tynzien's eyes flashed green.

"In fact, you know what I think…" Trilax said, as he drunkeningly thrust his face into Tynzien's. The stench of alcohol became overpowering.

"It's too bad they exiled you. It would have been far better if you'd stayed. It would be one less worry that your species has been wiped out…as it should have been."

Syria was trying not to lose her temper.

She had been stupid. She had decided to talk about herself. She should have known her tales of fighting and war wouldn't have gone over well with her audience. She could tolerate dislike for her past, but what the Roes had done had angered her even more. They had launched a flood of…sympathy.

"You poor girl. Forced to fight amongst all those…soldiers and brigandes!" one of them had said, like it was the worst fate she could imagine. And Syria could imagine it was…for her pampered and shielded mind. But to her…it was her life. It might not have been the cleanest one, or the most painless one, or the best one, but it was her life nonetheless.

"You should stay with us during your stay here Syria. We can show you all the things you've missed!" another said. As the other Roe women tittered agreement, Syria curled the hand she had concealed under the table into a fist.

"Indeed, you'll be a true and proper lady when you leave! Think of how much more pleasant it will be then."

That did it. She was going to deck one of them, consequences be damned.

Fortunately, she never got the chance, as there was a sudden explosion of movement and racket behind her. Syria whirled in her chair along with all the other Roe women, who took one look and began to gasp and moan in shock and fear.

Tynzien had a Roe pinned to the wall, one hand wrapped around the bird creature's slender neck, pressing the wings out in what looked to be a rather unpleasant fashion. His hair was now a crackling shimmering gold like the curtains he had been admiring some time ago. Golden energy flowed around him as he glared at the Roe he held with murderous hate.

It was about this time that Syria realized Tynzien was going to kill him.

Getting shoved across the room and smashed into a wall at high speed can have a very sobering effect on people. The fact that you are being held by a furious saiya-jin did the rest, as Trilax stared at Tynzien with stark, cold fear.

"Tynzien!"

And then Syria and Lyre were on the saiya-jin, trying to pull his arm away from the Roe. It was futile. In his Super Saiya-jin state, Tynzien was far stronger then the other two, and all they could do was push and pull.

"Tynzien, my friend, it is not worth it!" Lyre hissed as he powered up in another attempt to move Tynzien.

Tynzien held his glare.

And then the power surging around him faded, although his hair remained gold and his grip held. Tynzien put his face close to Trilax's, looking deep into his terrified eyes.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING." Tynzien hissed.

And he dropped Trilax on the ground like so much garbage. He took a step back, and Syria and Lyre let go as his tense muscles relaxed, the gold colour fading as his hair slumped down. Trilax took one last look, and then promptly passed out.

"You ok Tyn?" Syria asked.

"……………Yeah. I just lost my temper." Tynzien replied. Xalmer was approaching the trio.

"I am so sorry Tynzien…Trilax has a habit of getting inebriated at every party. He has done embarrassing things before…but this…I am…"

'Save it Xalmer. I get it. He was drunk out of his mind." Tynzien said quietly. "All the same…I think I'd better be going."

And before Xalmer could say anything else Tynzien spun on his heel and walked out of the room, pushing past the servants who were bringing in new trays of food. They looked at the departing saiya-jin in confused interest.

Syria glanced at Xalmer, which was more of a dirty look then anything else, and then headed after the saiya-jin. Lyre watched them go.

"Do you wish to depart to, or are you willing to help me do damage control?" Xalmer asked Lyre. Lyre turned his gaze to the Roe.

"What?"

"You know Tynzien far better then I. It think it would be best to assure the witnesses of this little spectacle that it was just an isolated incident and not something he does on a daily basis."

"I can assure you it is, but your friend there is lucky." Lyre said, indicating the unconscious Roe who was being removed by servants. "Tynzien understands that he was emboldened and stupened by drink. Had he said those things to Tynzien sober and aware…I do not think he would have a head anymore."

Tynzien stalked down the hallway, trying to keep his fury from bubbling to the surface again. His eyes flashed green twice, and his hair perked up once more, but eventually he was able to swallow the rage. It didn't change his stance though, and various Tarlos and Roe servants hurried to get out of his way as he stalked his way to wherever he was planning to go, even though even he didn't know where that was.

"Eh, if it hadn't have been you, it would have been me." Syria said as she fell into step beside Tynzien. Tynzien glanced over to her and immediately felt calmer.

"Really? They were that bad?"

"They're so enamoured with this "holier then thou" mindset! They acted like my being a fighter was the worst thing ever! It drove me bonkers! Just because it's all you know doesn't mean its right! Well, its my life, they don't want it, and I sure don't want theirs." Syria said.

Tynzien glowered. Syria's problems had raised his hackles again.

"At least they concentrated on you. They decided to smear my entire race for their amusement. Do you know what that bastard said to me, drunk or not? He lumped me in with all the other bloodthirsty monsters of my race! How dare he! How dare he pass such judgement on my race and myself…"

"Yes, when such judgement should only be left to you, hmmm?" Syria interrupted.

Tynzien tried to reply, but then he realized what Syria had said and stopped when he realized the truth of her words.

"You revile them perhaps more then anyone, Tyn. Perhaps you should not be so angry when others do so without knowing you." Syria said, and patted Tynzien's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "We're not used to the rich. For all my complaining…its what they know. All we can do is hope to change their minds for the better…if our mindset is the better one. Who knows? Certainly I don't, I'm just a dumb kid." Syria said, shrugging and smirking.

"…….Maybe. Still…well…eh, maybe Lyre will enlighten them. He's got less of a temper….I just hope he doesn't bust out some stupid observation like "The best thing about your wings is that they aren't made of used coffee grinders" or some other nonsense." Tynzien said, as he brushed off Syria's arm and headed off down the hallway.

"Where ya going, Tyn?"

"Someplace other then here, I think I need to avoid the Roes for a bit…and for the last time stop calling me that." Tynzien said as he disappeared around the corner.

"Not on your life, buddy boy." Syria said to the hallway, and left to find the dessert cart. After the sour turn of events at the party, she needed something sweet.

Lyre was proving to be far more popular then Tynzien. Unlike the saiya-jin, his race did not have a galaxy-wide bad reputation, and Lyre did the rest by proving to be a crisp and distinguished speaker. Soon he was speaking to Kastor, Xalmer, and their friends on various political issues. Most, as usual, centered around the Tarlos. At least the mocking hate had died down, but it was still clear the winged race was not fond of their green neighbors.

"That upcoming convention worries me Xalmer. The crime rate in the Tarlos' section has always been high, as you know, but this year is even worse. I fear for my safety." Kastor said. Lure arched an eyebrow.

"A convention?"

"Yes, every now and then we have to meet with the few political figures the Tarlos have…msot of them are criminals themselves, but that's not the point. We have to keep our contracts updated…"

"Kastor, the Namek is not aware of our business dealings."

"It is not complicated. This place was originally just a mining colony for our planet…then we discovered that certain areas have a special kind of soil mixed in with the sand that, if irrigated, give a very bountiful crop. However, water is nearly nonexistent on this planet, so we had to spend great sums to purchase it. Then the Tarlos showed up looking for a new home after theirs was ruined. We should have turned them away…but you see, they had technology that could transmute hydrogen and oxygen easily. So we let them stay here. We provide them their food and shelter, they help grow the food and…although this sickens me…they protect us as well."

"I see…but if that is such the case, why don't you at least try to get along?" Lyre asked.

"It's not that simple Lyre! We are so…and they are so…" Xalmer exclaimed. Lyre sighed inwardly. These situations were always complicated. Everyone wanted to accuse and no one wanted to listen. It was basically the same thing that made him keep his silence and ignore the change in his previous companions until it was too late. Now he was alone.

But perhaps…he could use that experience. Despite their arrogant nature, Lyre sensed they were ultimately good people, and until he saw otherwise, he would assume the same of the Tarlos.

He just had to make them realize it. Because if each side kept hating the other without really knowing why they were, it could only end in tragedy.

Lyre had been through that. He didn't like it. He doubted they would either.

Maybe he could do nothing.

But he would try.

Tynzien walked down the long paved street, kicking a rock he had found, paying attention to the rock and little else. Various Roes stared at him, but they kept their distance. The only instance was when a couple of Roes, who appeared to be children, flew up to him and around him, staring at him. Tynzien stared back. Eventually they flew away giggling, as if they found his countenance and features funny.

After that it was back to the rock, until a hand stopped him by touching him on his shoulder. Tynzien looked up to see a Roe soldier holding him. Tynzien didn't recognize him, but the Roe seemed to. Perhaps he had been with the attack party that had investigated Tynzien.

"Um sir…I just thought you should know…once you go through that door, you'll be in the Tarlos section of Fravlor."

Tynzien looked up. Indeed, he had been so focussed on the rock he had been kicking that he had failed to notice the massive gate in front of him, part of a section of thick white stone that extended each way as far as Tynzien could see.

"I see soldier. Why should I be warned?"

"Well…that section can be very dangerous sir. You may walk in and never come out." The guard said, trying to sound as foreboding as possible. Tynzien smirked.

"I think I'll be all right soldier. You are relieved of any responsibility you might have by letting me go in there." Tynzien said. The guard looked relieved.

"There's a small door in the gate for people. I'll open it." The guard said, and vanished into a building before Tynzien could say otherwise. Tynzien shrugged and headed towards the gate, leaving the rock behind.

He found the door easy enough, and opened it with a creaking noise that grated on his ears. He glanced back at the several Roe guards who were now standing on alert, and then he left them behind as he shut the door. If they had been guarding against a possible threat, it hadn't materialized.

Tynzien looked around.

The sections were definitely different. Instead of large houses there were closely packed square buildings, none of which looked clean. Graffiti decorated just about every surface it could, most of it bizarre art and language Tynzien couldn't understand. The streets were littered with garbage, but not that much. The air smelled relatively normal to him. So the supposed stench was a Roe thing.

Tynzien slowly walked down the street, looking around, trying to see if what the Roes said were true. He didn't see any drug deals, or people holding up old ladies, or young punks gang-beating someone. What he mostly saw were people sitting outside on steps or on balconies, either chatting with companions or just sitting. Had Tynzien been familiar with Earth history, he might have linked the scene to how the section of New York known as Harlem might have appeared in a movie.

The Tarlos didn't pay too much attention to Tynzien, although a few looked at him. Tynzien figured that if most of the society was involved in criminal activity, they probably had alien clients. Strange faces weren't that uncommon. Which was good, he guessed.

There was one Tarlos woman standing at a corner, and despite the naiveté he sometimes showed Syria, Tynzien knew from the way she dressed that she was probably conducting her own kind of business. She was attractive enough, for an alien, and she gave Tynzien a seductive glance as he passed, obviously liking what she saw. Tynzien responded with a gesture that he lacked funds, and the girl swiftly lost interest. Tynzien continued on. He was sure she would find a client.

So far, he had seen nothing terribly wrong with the city. Perhaps all the bad things were taking place inside, or in the alleyways. There certainly were a lot of alleyways (did criminals run the architectural business as well?). Tynzien had no desire to explore them. He'd just find trouble.

Music began floating to him, and Tynzien soon saw why. Up ahead a set of stairs was occupied by a group of seven or eight Tarlos youth, clustered around some kind of device that played music (Earth people might have likened it to a stereo). The music was fast and had a heady beat, and if it had words Tynzien couldn't make them out. The kids were taking turns stepping in front of their fellow youth and doing a few dance steps, although the way some of them flopped to the ground and spun around like an out of control Capoeria user made Tynzien liken them more to dance contortions.

The latest one to do his demonstration was finishing up as Tynzien approached. The youth flipped up to his feet and saw the saiya-jin. The rest followed his gaze and looked at Tynzien. Tynzien just looked back at them. For a moment the saiya-jin and Tarlos youth stared at each other.

The music thumped on.

Then the first youth gestured to Tynzien. Tynzien stared for a second before he realized the youth was inviting him to dance. Tynzien rolled his eyes. What the hell.

So Tynzien tried to mimic some of the dance moves he had seen the youth doing. He got about three seconds before he fell flat on his face.

The youths began to snicker and chuckle, as Tynzien got up with a cross look. Ok, one more time!

This time he lasted four seconds.

The youths were now howling with laughter as Tynzien got up, muttering and clutching his sore nose.

"Hey buddy, you're ok." The first youth said, slapping Tynzien's hand.

"Maybe…but I think I'll leave the dancing to you." Tynzien said, and moved on as some youths continued their chuckling. They watched Tynzien a bit more and then got back to dancing.

Tynzien walked on, rubbing his sore nose. Eventually the music faded and Tynzien's ears pricked up at another sound. The sound of raucous cheering. It was faint, but Tynzien had good hearing, and he followed it easily. He soon found the source.

It was a very large building, but it almost vibrated from the noises coming from within it. The only apparent entrance was a large door covered with a dirty black sackcloth split down the middle. Tynzien stared at it.

He could sense…combat.

Intrigued, Tynzien headed for the entrance, keeping his eye open for anyone who might serve as a detractor or detainer. He met no one, and he easily slipped between the folds and found himself in a dimly lit hallway that ended in what appeared to be an opening. Tynzien could see people around the opening. The noise washed over him, even louder then before. Maybe the entrance wasn't covered with sackcloth, because whatever it was, it was a very effective sound deterrent.

A stray thought flashed back to Tynzien.

…or die in one of those barbaric blood sports they hold to entertain their bloodthirsty rabble…

Perhaps that was what this was. But that warning was very vague. What kind of blood sports? Combat? Weapons? Throwing some helpless civilian to a hungry beast, like that Graloup Tynzien had killed earlier?

Tynzien frowned and headed for the entrance. If it was something like the last idea that had occurred to him, he wasn't going to let it happen much longer. Oh no.

Tynzien strode through the entrance.

It was a small circular arena built inside the building, and Tarlos were everywhere, all ages and both sexes, all making noise. Tynzien tried to find out what they were cheering for. In a moment he did.

In the middle of the arena was a lowered platform with a hard stone floor and retaining barricades around the circle so the crowd couldn't get into the arena. In the arena were two beings.

One was a huge Tarlos, with muscles on his muscles and a short haircut, almost a crew cut. The shock of hair was slick with sweat, and the pants and vest the Tarlos wore were damp with perspiration. He had a nasty, contented look on his face, and he danced in place and punched the air a few times for the crowd. The crowd whooped their…well, whatever gave them satisfaction with this Tarlos. Tynzien headed down the stairs to get a closer look, pushing aside various Tarlos. Most took no notice, but some did realize that Tynzien was not one of them. A few began to whisper.

Tynzien could see the other being now, and he looked like the exact opposite of what should be in a fighting ring. He was thin, frail, and lanky, with virtually no muscle tone. He was trying to get to his feet, but it was obvious from his stance and injuries it wasn't happening any time soon. It was like an accountant picking a fight with a bouncer, with the expected outcome.

"OH MY!" A voice suddenly boomed over the whole arena. Tynzien jumped. "That was even more unpleasant then I expected! What a beating! Looks like we'll have to scrape him off the mat!"

Two more Tarlos entered the arena. They weren't as big as Crewcut, but they were of a fair size, and certainly bigger then the "accountant". They reached the frail Tarlos, hooked their arms under his, and began dragging him away.

"NO! PLEASE! GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE! I'LL…" The Tarlos wailed before he was pulled from the arena. The crowd laughed and jeered at him. Tynzien felt slightly sick as he settled into an observer position. Now the Tarlos around him started to notice the alien. They did not say anything, but if Tynzien had noticed their eyes they would have become uncomfortable.

"Well, so much for that one! How many wins is that in a row, Brutuz?" the unseen announcer said. "800? 900?"

"1000!" The newly named Brutuz roared. The crowd roared back. They seemed pretty fond of the huge Tarlos.

"Yes…so, who is next? Who wishes to challenge the undefeated Brutuz? You could win 10,000 Clinny!" the announcer said. Tynzien's brow arched. What in the blue hell is Clinny? Their money? Where's Century when I need her?

"None can defeat me! Not one! I am unstoppable!" Brutuz roared, somehow being heard over the crowd.

Tynzien snorted in disdain, so loud the people around him heard it. They began their own whispering. Tynzien didn't notice.

"Ah, we have a new challenger! Ladies and gentleman…YEAH RIGHT!" the announcer said. The crowd apparently thought this was very funny, and laughed. "Please welcome…Dundas!"

Another Tarlos came from some concealed entrance out into the arena. He definitely looked more imposing then the Accountant Tynzien had seen being dragged away, but Brutaz still dwarfed him. He raised his hand and did his own masculine yells. Some people cheered, others booed, and others laughed.

"You know the rules…THEY AREN'T ANY!" the announcer bellowed. "Until one man is down and out…BEGIN!"

And with the announcer's final word, a bell rang.

Brutaz and Dundas immediately charged at each other and began slamming each other with huge meaty fists. Tynzien snorted in disdain again. It was pure brutality, with no refinement or grace. It bored him.

"They call them fighters?" Tynzien muttered disdainfully. Unfortunately, Tynzien's previous actions had reached certain ears. And there were now people in the crowd who had been sent to listen to the alien.

Brutaz threw a kick Tynzien could have dodged in his sleep. Dundas didn't, and he paid for it as the massive limb slammed into him, staggering him.

"Sloppy." Tynzien muttered. Brutaz wasn't unstoppable. He was a big musclehead with no fighting ability except to pummel anything in front of him. Tynzien had spent his whole life refining his ability, and the way Brutaz fought almost made him sick. It was so…pointless.

Torchixstra dwarfed HIM, and he fought with 100 times the grace this guy's showing…it ain't just size, its ability…

And then the fight was over, as Brutaz laced together his massive fists and smashed Dundas across the face. Dundas crumpled. A bell rang, and Brutaz raised his arms in victory again.

"That was one of the most pathetic things I've ever seen." Tynzien said, not expecting to be heard over the crowd.

He was heard.

And other quickly heard what he had said.

And others.

And others, until it finally made it all the way back to the people who had sent the original moles.

Tynzien sighed. He'd had enough. He'd best be heading back…

Massive hands suddenly clamped under his armpits.

"What the…"

"Wanna diss the champ, eh? Then why don't you say it to his face?" a voice said in his ear, and then Tynzien found himself flying through the air and into the arena.

Far up in the stands, two Tarlos sat on the very top row of the available seating and watched the fights.

"Hah! Brutaz again! That man just can't be beat! You think he could be the next Retiree?" the male Tarlos said. He was tall, muscular, and greasy. His hair resembled a long dead Earth artist who had been known as "The King", and he wore the Tarlos equivalent of jeans, a T-shirt, and a long dirty coat that was covered with stitches. He wasn't ugly, but there was an aura about him that generated a strong feeling of dislike.

The Tarlos female who was his companion slowly looked at him. There was no doubting her visage though. She was beautiful, with features that seemed to have been meticulously painted on her face by a master of the art. Her long green hair cascaded down her shoulders and past her back, managing to look perfectly natural in what other women would have to pay a fortune to achieve. She was tall and slim, wearing a skin-tight dress that was cut low and high, showing off as much of the female's flesh as possible. She was truly a sight to behold.

But her eyes told a different story. None of the beauty shone out from them. Instead, there was a meek broken look, a look that somehow combined fear, surrender, respect, and apathy. She managed to look like she didn't care and that she was terrified at the same time as she looked at the male Tarlos.

"Maybe." She said, dropping the sound out like a wad of spit before she turned back to watch as Brutuz did his thing.

The male Tarlos looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn't get the chance as another Tarlos suddenly ran up and whispered something in his ear. A smirk spread over his features, and he leaned back to the female.

"Jezebelle, we are about to have a treat!"

Jezebelle looked over to her companion, her eyes now showing some questioning on the nature of this "treat".

Then movement caught her eyes, and she turned back to look as a form flew into the arena and came crashing down onto the stone. She looked at it inquisitively.

"Some alien came in here, which was stupid, but then he started insulting Brutuz! Out loud! Well, I'm afraid Ryner didn't take to that too well, so he got his men to give the alien a face to face meeting with Brutuz, since he doesn't seem to be very fond of him."

The alien was now getting to his feet, shaking his head and brushing dust off his outfit. Jezebelle stared at him as he looked around, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on.

Her companion was still talking, but Jezebelle kept her eyes on the alien. There was something so…noble about him, even in the action of picking himself up after being thrown on his face. It seemed so out of place in the arena, filled with noise and bloodlust and a overall feeling of viciousness.

This alien was so…special.

"Hey! Jezebelle!" the male was saying to her. Her countenance changed immediately from quiet pondering to frightened deer as she snapped her gaze to meet her companion's. If he got mad at her…

"You've got a knack for these things, although why you would have it is beyond me. How much should I bet on Brutuz? How quick do you think he can pummel that alien into paste? I've never seen him mad before, but damn, he looks mad!"

Indeed, Brutuz was stalking towards the alien. Apparently someone had informed him of the comments made against him, and he was planning to rectify them.

Jezebelle stared again. While Brutuz exuded anger and savageness, the alien stood there calmly, looking as if he saw huge angry green men who wanted to pummel him all the time. Jezebelle took in his armor, and his calm controlled stance.

And she knew. Somehow, she knew.

"Bet it all." She said.

"Ok!"

"On the alien."

That stopped the male Tarlos in his tracks. Slowly, he turned his gaze on her. She cringed, wishing she could crawl into a hole and hide.

"What?"

"Bet on the alien. There's something very…unique about him, very powerful. I can feel it in my bones."

"Oh you can, can you? Might I remind you that Brutuz can lift a ton and has defeated hundreds of opponents, while this alien, whom I have never seen before, has shown me no such thing! So why should I bet on him?"

"Because he's going to win."

The man stared at Jezebelle. Jezebelle had gone from wishing for a hole to praying the ground would just open up and swallow her.

"You are aware of what will happen to you if you are wrong." He replied quietly. The strong undertone of threat in his voice sent shivers through her. She hadn't wanted to doubt her judgement, but her fear was making her do it anyway.

"Yes."

'Are you SURE?"

"Yes."

"Still. Ok, fine." The male said, and leaned down to speak with the Tarlos sitting on the seats below him. Jezebelle couldn't make out the words, but she could see that he was arguing with them, as if they couldn't believe what he was doing. He didn't look much like he could believe it himself. After a short argument, he leaned back up.

"Since you know so well Jezebelle, why don't you tell me in what timeframe this fight will go?"

Jezebelle looked back at the alien. Brutuz was now right in his face and screaming at him in an attempt to intimidate him. The alien wasn't giving him an inch though, calmly replying to whatever Brutuz was saying to him.

Such confidence.

"Ten seconds."

Her companion's double take was considerably more pronounced this time.

"WHAT!?! Not only are you telling me to bet on the alien, you're telling me he'll beat Brutuz in LESS THEN TEN SECONDS!?!"

Now Jezebelle was cringing away from her male companion, although that didn't stop her from nodding her head. She was too scared to do anything else.

He glowered at her for a bit, and then turned back to the people he had been speaking with.

"How much will you give me for the alien…in ten seconds?"

The two burst out laughing. The male looked very angry at this.

"You really wanna lose all the money you've made so far, eh Zathiny? Ok fine. I'm a sport. I'll give you, I dunno…75-1 odds! Ha! You never struck me as stupid, buddy. Guess I was wrong." Said one of the Tarlos, and turned back to watch the fight. Zathiny sat down and glowered at Jezebelle again.

"You had better pray you are right, or I will whip you so many times there won't be any skin on your back for weeks!" he hissed.

"Yes Zathiny." Jezebelle replied quietly.

Zathiny's hand suddenly lashed out, striking Jezebelle across the face. The female recoiled from the blow and then stared at Zathiny, looking more shocked and surprised then hurt. Tears finally began to bead in her eyes.

No one else paid any attention to this.

"You never call me by my name in public! You call me Master!" Zathiny hissed.

"Yes master." Jezebelle replied in a quiet, scared tone.

And then the bell rang.

Tynzien watched as the massive mound of muscle named Brutuz headed towards him, looking as if he had just swallowed a sea urchin.

Tynzien sighed. He should have known this would happen.

"So, the little alien thinks I'm sloppy and pathetic, eh?" Brutuz said as he approached Tynzien.

"Name's Tynzien Warlock. Do you know who I am?" Tynzien replied quietly.

"Does it matter?" Brutuz chuckled. Tynzien sighed inwardly. He definitely wasn't going to get it.

Brutuz stopped, looking down on Tynzien with rage, disdain, and sadistic joy. He fully expected to amuse himself with another punching bag. Tynzien didn't have a scouter, but he could sense enough that Brutuz's judgement was at best, erroneous.

"You're gonna find out just how good a fighter I am, little man." Brutuz said, cracking his knuckles in satisfaction.

"I already know, buddy. And fighting is so much more then just slamming your limbs against something."

"Oh really? You mean like…THIS?"

And then Brutuz arched his fist up and slammed it down against the floor. The stone shattered from the blow. Chuckling low in his throat, Brutuz withdrew his fist.

"Beginning to regret your words, Tynzien? Don't worry, you won't get a chance to say anything else for a while."

Tynzien glanced at the shattered floor, and then back at Brutuz. His lack of reaction was beginning to get on Brutuz's nerves.

"I'll give you this chance to back out Brutuz."

Brutuz's beady little eyes stared at Tynzien, and then he threw back his head and roared laughter. It echoed all over the arena, somehow being heard over the noise of the crowd.

And in said crowd, a figure peered through a hood, looking at Tynzien. He licked his lips.

"Hmmmmm…I wonder…"

Brutuz kept laughing. Tynzien stared on, snapping his head quickly to one side to avoid a piece of vegetable matter being thrown at him.

"I am going to enjoy this even more then I thought." Brutuz said.

"People, this alien challenger believes he is better then Brutuz! I think we must see the error of his ways, don't we?" the announcer suddenly bellowed.

"Last chance Brutuz." Tynzien said quietly.

"I'm going to keep your tongue as a trophy." Brutuz replied.

"BEGIN!"

The bell rang, as Brutuz drew back his arm and fired off his mightiest punch at Tynzien.

All he hit was air, as Tynzien's image blurred away and vanished just before Brutuz's fist went through where he had been standing.

"Huh?" Brutuz said in confusion.

His ears picked up the sound behind him, and he turned as Tynzien reappeared behind him, drawing back his leg.

And then Tynzien lashed out with a reverse hook kick, smashing Brutuz across the face. Brutuz could only make a small grunt of surprise as he flew through the air, smashing right through the barricades surrounding the arena. He only stopped when he hit the roof, falling down and hitting the floor near the highest seats with a loud thud. Seeing stars for the first time in his life and his broken jaw aching, Brutuz rolled his eyes and passed out.

Tynzien slowly floated down to absolute silence. The crowd was in total and absolute shock. You could hear a pin drop.

"Like I said, pathetic. But they never listen." Tynzien said.

The crowd said nothing in return.

Tynzien greatly preferred it that way.

Zathiny's bookie could only stare with the same shock. His companion and Zathiny himself shared his look. Only Jezebelle didn't look surprised. She looked vindicated.

"How long was that?" Zathiny finally said.

The bookie's friend numbly stopped the stopwatch he had been using. He looked at it.

"……….7.6 seconds."

A wide grin split Zathiny's face. He leaned over and pulled Jezebelle close.

"I love you!" he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Now wait a minute, that couldn't be a fair bet…" the bookie said.

And then a voice rang out amongst the still quiet Tarlos.

Tynzien was waiting for the crowd to come to its senses and most likely start booing him when he heard it.

"Hey, not bad! But how much of it was luck and how much was skill?"

And then a blur of movement came as a figure suddenly leap out of the audience and spiraled down into the arena, a whirring blaze of green. It landed perfectly and stood up. All Tynzien could see was the green cloak the figure wore, the heavy hood concealing his face.

The crowd began to murmur at the arrival of this stranger. Even the announcer and bouncers who had tossed Tynzien into the ring were confused on what to do.

Then the figure reached up and pulled the hood back.

A static charge seemed to pass through the crowd as another Tarlos was unvealed. A young handsome Tarlos with free-flowing green hair.

Tynzien stared, trying to place the face. It took him a few seconds to realize this was the Tarlos that had headed the group of warriors that had nearly come to blows with Xalmer and co.

I'll let your suffer with the Roes for now…how prophetic.

"It's Zarven!"

And the whole crowd erupted in a cheer that put Brutuz's to shame. Zarven, as Tynzien assumed his name was, raised an arm from underneath his cloak and saluted them.

"Oh my! What an unexpected twist! From out of the crowd comes the man known as the Retiree! The only undefeated fighter in the history of this arena, and many others! The almighty ZARVEN!" the announcer bellowed, playing up the arrival for all it was worth.

Zarven motioned, and the crowd grew quiet.

"My people…did you not see who this is? This is the saiya-jin who arrived on Locustus earlier today!" Zarven said. His dramatic tone, clearly quite practiced, elicited more then a few gasps. He knew how to play a crowd.

But…he definitely had a different aura then Brutuz. This was actually a warrior.

"Brutuz did not heed this, and look what happened to him! His stupidity has humiliated us, and our people! Therefore, I ask that for one lone match, you lift my restriction from arena combat and let me avenge his loss!" Zarven yelled in the same dramatic tone. The crowd roared its approval. They clearly wanted to see Zarven fight.

"Well…Zarven, the saiya-jin were known as the warriors of the universe! They were considered the finest fighters of all! Do you think even your vast skill and power can match theirs?" the announcer asked. There was a storm of people yelling "Yes!"

"I am so confident I can…I will add 5000 of my own Clinny!" Zarven said, reaching under his cloak and throwing a small bag at the announcer, who was finally revealed to be standing on a raised platform at one of the arena corners. The announcer caught it.

"Very well! For one night only, we shall see the return of Zarven, as he battles this upstart saiya-jin!"

The loudest cheer yet, which hurt Tynzien's ears. Zarven continued his dramatics, as he turned back to Tynzien and tossed off his cloak. He's taken off the damaged and broken armour he'd worn with the army, and was left with blue pants and a skintight white shirt. He had a body built like Tynzien's, not overly large but with very good muscle tone.

"Holy shit! We're gonna see Zarven fight! I never thought I'd see this!" Zathiny said in a rush. Jezebelle didn't say anything, as she looked back and forth between the two.

She'd heard of Zarven. He was the son of the current mayor/ruler of the Tarlos section of Fravlor, and at a young age he was on the same path as Zarbon. His name was even inspired by their hero Zarbon, and it had seemed to be fitting as Zarven had proven to be a prodigy at fighting. At the young age of twenty-six, he led the Tarlos armed forces in all important battles, and he had won so many arena battles they had finally banned him from competing, hence him being known as "The Retiree". If he had been fighting anyone else, she would be assured of a quick and simple victory for him.

But…this saiya-jin…she could not shake the feelings she had of him. To her, he just seemed to radiate something extraordinary. And not just in combat. It was if she could see a light shining within him.

A true savage noble.

"Jezebelle!"

"Yes Za…Master?"

"You were right last time. So, do you think the saiya-jin has a chance…or what? Will Zarven crush him?"

"No." Jezebelle said, surprised at her own abrupt reply.

"Well then…Zarven or the saiya-jin?"

"………….."

"Jezebelle, I need an answer now, not next week!"

"The saiya-jin!"

The crowd around Jezebelle fell silent at her sudden cry. Zathiny stared quizzingly at her. Jezebelle swallowed, fearing another outburst of violence.

"Ok then. Bet it all on the saiya-jin! Even if it's against the Retiree."

"Me too!"

"I've got nothing to lose, I'll place my bet as well!"

And as Zathiny's bookie and bet maker was deluged by various Tarlos demanding to bet on the saiya-jin. Zathiny thought back with hard eyes. If he lost…

Most of the other bet makers did not experience what Zathiny's had. They bet on Zarven.

Then the bell rang, and all bets were literally off.

"So, you think you're a skilled warrior?" Zarven said to Tynzien, as he did a few stretches.

Tynzien smirked. Zarven was definitely a warrior, and unlike Brutuz, he possessed no sadistic cruelty or bloodlust with his combat power. He wasn't a pure soul, but he wasn't evil either. He was just…a warrior.

The smirk widened into a contented grin. Brutuz had been a waste of his time, but this was a definitely a fight. He'd enjoy this.

"Some have said so." Tynzien replied, cracking his neck. "So, what's with you being called the Retiree? Aren't you a bit young to be retired?"

"They call me that for two reasons. One, because I had to quit fighting in these because I never lost, and two, I made plenty of others quit. And I do mean plenty."

Zarven finished his stretches and struck a combat pose.

"So, looking to add another notch to your belt?" Tynzien said, and slowly slid into an appropriate counter position.

"We'll see, won't we? But I certainly think I can beat you."

"As do I."

"Fighters ready!" The announcer yelled. "Now, let this fight…BEGIN!"

The bell rang.

"After you." Zarven said.

"Oh no, after YOU." Tynzien replied.

Zarven's only reply was to smirk.

Then he blasted forward as white flame enveloped him. Tynzien could barely believe his speed before Zarven slammed a knee into his face.

Tynzien flew backwards in an out of control spin, slamming against the arena wall so hard it shattered and nearly collapsed. But Tynzien recovered almost instantly and pistoned himself off the wall in an explosion of blue flame. With a yell, Tynzien spun and smashed Zarven with a roundhouse, and it was the Tarlos' turn to go crashing into a wall.

Tynzien landed, wiping blood from his nose. Zarven pulled himself from the wall and wiped away his own blood which had begun to leak from the corner of his mouth. He nodded with a quasi-wicked look on his face, a look that said. "Pretty good, but not as good as me."

Tynzien shared the same look.

Zarven snapped out his hand and fired a purple ki blast. Tynzien whacked it aside and it blew up a section of the floor as he zapped at Zarven. Zarven snapped his head to the side to avoid Tynzien's punch and drove his knee into Tynzien's chest, then punched him with a cracking hook. Tynzien staggered back but countered with a snapping roundhouse that drove Zarven backwards as well. Zarven snarled and leapt backwards, bound off the wall and then zapping down into Tynzien, driving a forearm against his forehead. Tynzien started to fall, but he kept the presence of mind to reach up and grab Zarven, using the Tarlos' own momentum by hurling him over his head. Zarven bounced along the arena floor as Tynzien flipped back to his feet and hurled a ki ball after him. Zarven did one final bounce and then instantly regained control, snapping up his leg at the last minute and kicking the ki ball right back at Tynzien. Tynzien's eyes widened, but he managed to hold up his hand and stop his own blast, dispersing it as Zarven landed on his feet with a toss of his head and a wave of his hair.

"Fancy."

"Just you wait."

The two blurred away, and the arena rang with cracking blows as the two punched and kicked at each other, trying to find a weakness in the defenses of the other.

Then Tynzien hit the floor hard, thrown down by a mighty blow. He shoved himself into the air and away just before Zarven came crashing down where he had just been. The ground exploded, and Tynzien was consumed with smoke.

Fans started up in the arena and blew the smoke away as Zarven emerged from the crater he had made.

"Shall we take the kid gloves off now, saiya-jin?" Zarven said, and with that he set his legs and clenched his fists. With a low growl he began to power up, and blue and green energy beams flew around him as a windstorm whipped through the entire arena.

"Heh." Tynzien said. "Kaioken."

The blood-red flame exploded around Tynzien, sizzling away at the stone beneath his feet. Zarven looked suitable impressed, but it didn't stop him from attacking.

Tynzien caught his leg and tried to throw him, but the Tarlos twisted and smashed his foot into Tynzien's face, and then whirled and slammed his palm into Tynzien's chest, cracking his armour. Tynzien staggered back, and Zarven was on him. Tynzien ducked under his roundhouse and his follow-up reverse roundhouse, blocked the backhand that came after that, and took advantage of the opening to drive his elbow right into the center of Zarven's abdomen. Zarven reeled backwards, clutching the arena Tynzien had struck. That one had hurt.

"Heh, nice one, but I'm not through YET!" Zarven yelled, and thrust out his hand. Multiple ki blasts spewed from each hand, and Tynzien leapt backwards to escape them. He failed and was enveloped in explosions. Zarven added one final big blast shot from both his hands, and the whole arena shook.

The fans went back to work, as Zarven stood, panting.

A shadow suddenly blanched the smoke.

Then Tynzien strolled out, his outfit torn and ripped and his armour in pieces. He paid no attention to that though. His eyes were on Zarven.

He was smiling.

Zarven looked and the saiya-jin, and couldn't help but smile back.

"Gimme your best shot."

Tynzien nodded and thrust his hands to the side.

"Heaven-Splitting Violent…"

Then Zarven blurred away.

"Stupid." A voice whispered in Tynzien's ear.

Tynzien's arm flashed down and grabbed the leg just as it was about to strike him. He rolled forward and tossed Zarven over him. Zarven flipped in mid-air and landed facing Tynzien.

And found himself looking right into Tynzien's right hand.

"Light." Tynzien finished.

The blast blew Zarven backwards, hitting the opposing wall so hard it nearly cracked in half. He fell to his knee, hacking up blood.

Tynzien took a few steps forward. The arena had been cheering and bellowing throughout the whole matchup, but once again they had gone quiet.

He waited.

Zarven's head snapped up. His eyes blazed with anger and determination.

"NO! THIS ISN'T OVER YET!"

Zarven pushed himself to his feet and charged.

"BUT IT'S OVER NOW! 11-STEP HEAVEN GLAZE KICK!"

Zarven's leg snapped out and caught Tynzien in the ankle, then twisted up and over and caught him in the kneecap. Those hurt, but not as much as the next four kicks as Zarven moved up his body and kicked pressure points in Tynzien's thigh, stomach, chest, and shoulder. And then his foot was snapping back and forth against Tynzien's head, crushing blows slamming him from left and right. His guard broken by the pain of the previous blows, Tynzien could only take the blows and reel from them.

"HI-YAAA!" Zarven screamed, and he finished his last kick and twisted his body up, completing the devastating move with a leaping axe kick. Tynzien's head was snapped back so violently his whole body followed. To Tynzien it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. All there seemed to be was pain and disorientation.

But in a corner of his mind, a voice screamed.

ATTACK! HE'S LEFT HIMSELF WIDE OPEN!

Tynzien's mind cleared, even as his body arched downward as his legs flew up and over him. He thrust his hands down.

"KAIOKEN TIMES FIVE!"

The flame exploded around him even as he landed on his feet, and he charged, slamming his fist across Zarven's face even as the warrior came to realize he hadn't beaten Tynzien. Tynzien gave him no mercy as he hooked him in the stomach, kicked him across the face, and then leapt upward, driving his knee across Zarven's head with as much force as he could muster in the current state of the Kaioken.

And as Tynzien landed on his feet, Zarven's body spun through the air and came crashing down hard.

The crowd was dead silent.

Zarven tried to push himself up, but his arms failed him and he slid back down.

"Damn, you are good." He muttered, and then he said nothing more.

Tynzien relaxed and powered down. He could still sense Zarven's ki, as strong and defiant as he has been. He'd just been knocked out.

Somewhere, a bell rang.

"The winner…the saiya-jin? Can this be?" The announcer seemed to ask the crowd.

Tynzien figured he had better find a way out. He had a feeling that it was about to get ugly.

He didn't get the chance, as a Tarlos suddenly came running out into the arena. For a second Tynzien thought he was going to attack him, but then he saw the megaphone.

"We've been spotted!" The Tarlos yelled, and then said something in his language that Tynzien couldn't make out, mostly due to the fact he didn't have a scouter. He cursed inwardly.

Hey Century! He yelled mentally as the crowd reacted to what the Tarlos had said. It was part ordered evacuation and part mass stampede, with the appearance of the latter and the effectiveness of the former. It almost seemed practiced.

What? Century said back through the uplink.

Need a translation! What does "Sylogah Ni Fuzze, Golow Der Verdenbant" translate to?

Ugh, I hate slang! Ok, lemme see…translated roughly, it means something like…

Century's voice was suddenly drowned out as the announcer started up again.

"Those damn Roes! They must have bribed the…Oh!" The announcer said. Then the mike cut out, and Tynzien realized it hadn't been an announcement. The announcer had been talking to himself and his mike had picked it up before he turned it off.

As I was saying, it means something like "The group that is their equivalent of the police are coming, we must evacuate this area now."

How did he get all that in just twelve syllables?

It's not a literal translation! Anyway, you might want to get out of there Tynzien. Methinks that the police usually look the other way with things like this, but someone got annoyed at this and gave them an incentive in one of the few effective ways.

"Cold hard cash." Tynzien muttered. "Ok, I'll be right out. Just gotta do something."

But when Tynzien turned, Zarven was no longer on the floor. He had vanished. Tynzien blinked. Must have been carried away by some friends, or maybe he got up himself. And he didn't hit me for losing. How…honorable.

Then his eyes were drawn as one of the exits Tarlos were fleeing into suddenly had a reverse flow of people. The fleeing Tarlos were suddenly speckled with Tarlos all wearing the same uniform. With a start Tynzien recognized that they were wearing the same pants as Zarven had been.

That was all the time he gave himself for observation though. As these "Authority Tarlos" or whatever they were started to head down towards the arena, pouncing on every Tarlos they could catch, Tynzien floated up to the roof and flew through an open window. He got a nice view of the Tarlos streaming out of the building and vanishing into the darkness of their city. Tynzien leapt to another roof that had a good view of the warehouse/arena, and watched.

The stream flowed to a trickle, and then stopped. Some time later another group of Tarlos came out, the Authority ones and the few of their fellows they had managed to catch. They bundled them into two large vehicles and drove off. Tynzien noted they had no sirens. Rather smart, especially if you wanted to sneak up on someone.

Once they were gone, Tynzien leapt down into the nearest alleyway. He landed on his feet and inspected his armour as he headed for the street. Hmmpph. Nearly damaged beyond repair. That Zarven knew his stuff. Tynzien groused as he reached the exit of the alleyway and began heading down the street.

A finger tapped on his shoulder.

Tynzien turned.

"I believe this is yours."

A bag was tossed at Tynzien. He caught it and heard the clink of various coins. He looked at the tosser.

"…Hello Zarven."

"Saiya-jin." The Tarlos replied. His left eye was starting to darken from the battle he had suffered, but it was the only thing dark about his countenance.

"My name is Tynzien, Zarven…and what is this?"

"What you rightfully earned, Tynzien. 10,000 Clinny for beating Brutuz…and 5000 for beating me. And THAT, my fellow fighter, hurts more then anything you did to me." Zarven said. He was joking, and that amazed Tynzien.

"You're not angered you lost?"

"I would be if you had cheated or had some other kind of outside interference, but you beat me fair and square. You were just the better man…as much as my fans will deny it. But you can't be undefeated forever, I guess."

"Yes. Too bad those people broke it up. I'm always open to a rematch." Tynzien said. Zarven smirked, leaning against the alleyway wall.

"Our society isn't the cleanest one, Tynzien…but our police understand that. It's the way we are. We try to live with each other. They're there when things get really dangerous, when we have real bad apples around…this should have been nothing. But when you live next door to those birdbrains, nothing quickly turns into a whole lot of something. But I'm sure you already know that, or you wouldn't be here." The Tarlos youth said. Tynzien slowly nodded.

"Just because I'm a fighter doesn't mean I can't be astute, Tynzien. Nor does most of my people being involved in what we do. Perhaps you may not understand it, and those birdbrains sure as hell can't…but it's what we know. What I know."

Tynzien didn't reply. Instead he lifted the small brown bag and gave it a slight squeeze, almost a caress, to test the insides again. It didn't fail him, as it clinked again.

"This is Clinny?"
"Yep, all yours. Do whatever you want with it."

Tynzien was going to reply, but his eyes caught something on the street. It was now virtually empty of Tarlos...except one lone one, sitting on the street, his head in his arms. Tynzien had just thought him a begger of some kind, until he recognized him. It was the Accountant.

"What's so interesting about that guy, Tynzien?"

Tynzien looked back at the Tarlos.

"Who is he? What was he doing…"

"In the arena? I don't know him, but I'm sure I know his story. He screwed up royally and is heavily in debt, and this was a last ditch effort to try and pay it off."

"Fighting in an arena? With a…"

'Desperate men do desperate things, Tynzien. I've seen it before. They come in hoping for a miracle. Hope for the best, but expect the worst, as they say. They get pummeled and tossed out, to whatever fate awaits them from the people they owe."

"That is?"

"They could always kill him, but there's no money in that. More likely…we'll just take him, sell him to someone…or perhaps worse for him, take someone from his family."

Tynzien looked back at the accountant and then back at Zarven.

"Buy him? Like slavery? But that's barbaric! People aren't property! You can't just…"

'But we can, Tynzien. And we do. Hey, I deplore the cruelty and vicious way such people are treated…but its what we know, Tynzien."

"Isn't your father the leader of this city?"

"Yes, but that is mostly for dealing with the Roes, and a few other small duties. Everything else…they know to stay out of it. We have had rulers who have tried to introduce reform, either for their own reasons or because someone paid them to follow their reasons. The result is always the same. Their terms were short. And their lives even shorter. My father may rule this city, Tynzien, but he knows where his bread is buttered. And when I take over, I will too."

Tynzien just stared.

"Tynzien, you're a good guy…but try not to think of this too much. Like I said. You don't know. But we do."

And with that, Zarven turned and flew off, heading back to wherever he came from. Tynzien watched him go, not sure what to make of him. He always preferred it when things were easily placed into categories. Zarven wasn't. He didn't strike him as evil or cowardly, but how could you hold that kind of attitude towards what happened to people like the Accountant without…?

Tynzien sighed. He gave the bag a toss and headed over to the Accountant. When he reached him he heard that the man was softly weeping.

"Hey."

The Accountant looked up, the lack of hope and expectation of more suffering the only thing in his eyes. He clearly expected to be disgorged from this place where he had chosen to lament his misfortune. So great was his inner torment he barely seemed to notice Tynzien was an alien.

"What'd you do?"

The Accountant stared at him, not understanding.

"You don't belong within a mile of an arena like that. You were in there. Why?"

"I…needed the money."

"For…"

The Tarlos shrank away. He was clearly ashamed.

"Let me guess. Gambling?"

The man slowly nodded. As if that was a trigger, a torrent of woe suddenly gushed from him.

"What have I done!?! I should have stopped while the debt was payable, but I was so sure I could win it back…but I failed…oh god, my daughters…how can I…"

Tynzien's stomach did a quick roll. He got the drift of what would be happening to this guy's children.

"How much?"

"What?"

"What's your debt?"

"Over 9000 Clinny…"

The bag clinked loudly as Tynzien dropped it at his feet. The man stared at it, as if it was some strange new breed of animal.

"That's 15,000. That should clear it. Just do yourself a favour and don't do this again. For your daughters, if not for you." Tynzien said.

Slowly the man picked up the bag. He opened it and poured the coins out, checking to see if they were real, and still not believing it.

"But…why?"

"I'm an alien. That's your money. What am I supposed to do with it? Throw it on the pile?" Tynzien said, and turned to leave. Behind him, he could hear the man start to cry again.

"Thank you sir! I'll never forget this! Never!"

"Don't mention it." Tynzien said with a casual wave. Zarven may think one person can't make a difference, but that doesn't mean I have to.

Tynzien walked on, looking around.

Then he saw her.

He'd seen some attractive Tarlos before, but the woman he had found staring at him…she was more then lovely.

From across the street, their eyes met.

And Tynzien was struck by an incredible sense of potential and purpose…and yet, a sense of terrible sadness and waste. And hovering over it all was the bitter taste of inevitability, of hopelessness.

The two stared at each other.

"Who are you?" Tynzien whispered to himself.

Jezebelle looked back at the saiya-jin, the madcap escape, Zathiny collecting his winnings, and everything else on the street fading away until it was only him. She could feel his eyes looking into her, deeper then anyone she had ever known. She felt exposed…and yet did not feel vulnerable. It was if he could see things within her that amazed him…and in that case, she had no idea what they could be.

"Pleasure doing business with you." Zathiny said joyfully.

"Yeah, gloat now you fucking lucky bastard…" the Tarlos muttered as he stalked away. Zathiny took one last look at the coins and put them in a bag he drew from his side. "Hey Jezebelle!"

His hold on her broken, Jezebelle turned back to Zathiny. Across the street, Tynzien's brow arched. Boyfriend?

"I cleaned up tonight!" Zathiny said. Jezebelle gave a nervous little giggle.

"Great…I guess that means I won't have to…"

Zathiny's whole attitude changed then, as the good humour left his face and the darkness crept in.

"I think not Jezebelle. I bought you for a reason, and you'll serve your purpose, no matter how much money we win. Now hurry up! You have some of your regulars lined up tonight…and I think that guy who always brings those chains has some new ideas. I'd brace yourself, because I think you're gonna have a rough night."

Jezebelle lowered her head, in defeat and in servitude.

"Yes master."

Tynzien watched the two head off, his hackles raised as he watched how the man pulled the woman by her arm, like he didn't care if it stayed attached or not. That's no boyfriend…I believe I am witnessing first hand what Zarven spoke of, and that Accountant guy feared for his children…but…that girl…who is she?

"Hey look, down on the ground! It's a shrub, it's a bush, no, its GOOD DEEDS MAN!" came a laughing voice, and then Syria landed next to Tynzien. "Hey time, long time no see! Have fun? Whoops, guess not." She giggled as she looked at Tynzien's battered state.

"Syria, have you been drinking again?"

"Just a tad! Those Roes are jerks, but they got some good shit!" Syria said. "Anyway, I came to get you. Saw what you did for that thin guy. You're so nice!" Syria said, slurring "nice" slightly.

"Syria, you're a bit tipsy, I think we should head back, I'll help…"

"BULLSHIT! I'm quite in control of myself, Tyn! I'll fly on my own! Catch me if you can!" Syria said, and with that she rose up and flew off. Tynzien watched her go. Well, she's the one whose gonna have the headache later, if she doesn't get one earlier by crashing into one of those buildings!

Tynzien glanced back at where the Tarlos woman had been. By now she was gone.

………..I gotta find her again. I gotta see her. She's…special, and if I don't look into it…who knows what I could lose…what everyone could lose…

And with a whir of winds, Tynzien was in the air and gone.

"You LOST?"

"Is there an echo in here, father? Yes, I lost. I was defeated. I fell in battle. I was vanquished by a foe. Insert your own simile here." Zarven said, holding an ice pack against his right shoulder.

Arcstor, the mayor/leader/dictator/politician/call it what you will of the Tarlos section of Kravlor, sat back and stared at his son. The young man seemed to be acting as usual, even sitting on his desk in the way he usually did. The only difference was his various bruises. He didn't seem to have any on his brain though. Which made his behavior even more confusing to Arcstor.

"But…you never lose! They had to force you to quit fighting in arenas! They called you the Retiree! And you make a dramatic comeback and lose?"
"It was a saiya-jin father. And he had serious skills. Deadly serious." Zarven replied, rubbing his black eye. "I tried my best…it wasn't good enough. Guess I should be getting back to training."

"Well…I should think so!" Arcstor said, sitting back in his chair. The resemblance between Zarven and his father was clear, but Arcstor had short hair instead of his son's free-slowing mane, and he had a short beard as well. And of course, the knowledge of more years lived could be seen in his eyes. In a place like this though, it caused more of an effect then usual. Various scars on his face showed that as well. Arcstor had clearly spent his life fighting, and still planned to do more before he was done.

"Hey Dad, not like it's gonna affect you. It's MY reputation that's suffered. I used to be able to say "I am Zarven, winner of thousands of battles!" Now what am I going to say? "I am Zarven, winner of thousands of battles, and loser of one because a saiya-jin beat me silly with some weird power-up technique"? It just doesn't have the same ring."

And in a twist of irony, a small device on Arcstor's death suddenly started to beep. Zarven fell silent immediately, hopping off his father's desk and standing back. For the moment, his father was gone. The leader of this city was needed.

Arcstor opened the small device and hit a button. A Tarlos appeared. He looked similar to the one Tynzien had dubbed 'The Accountant".

"Hello sir. Just thought I should update you. We have still been unable to raise Gelb Colony."

"Still? Blast. We haven't had an update from them in days!"

"Well sir, according to intelligence, neither have the Roes. We're both equally cut off. We think its due to the strange behavior of the local stars. They seem rather volatile lately."

"A threat?"

"No, just an inconvenience. Still, it's a very annoying one."

"Keep trying. All frequencies." Arcstor said, and terminated the conversation by pressing another button. He leaned back and sighed.

"You know if something's happened, the birdbrains are going to blame it all on you." Zarven said.

"Of course. They always do." Arcstor replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You know, I suggested we both work on that colony. I sent Tarlos that had no bad history with Roes. I did my best to support it. And what do I get? Nothing but scorn, and people telling me I could do better. And just when it seemed to be working, it just cuts off. Yes, I think I know who their scapegoat will be. I wish we could find out the exact circumstances though. It would be better then just walking in blind at the Convergence in a few days. Some of those Roes would think nothing of making up a few stories in order to make us look bad."

"Indeed." Zarven muttered. "Still, it appears not everyone can be so easily swayed. That saiya-jin was obviously in the arena because he didn't want to be near the Roes."

"Oh? Are you sure there's no other reason he'd be there? Don't saiya-jins crave combat?"

"Maybe…but I'd still like to think he took a look at how the Roes lived and came out thinking more like us then like them. He didn't seem fond of our way of life, but he didn't brand us all criminals and deviants like they do."

Arcstor sighed.

'What am I going to do son?"

"I guess for now we can just try and raise Gelb Colony. I, for one, want to know why they aren't answering our hails."

The reason that the attempts to contact the Gelb colony were failing mostly had to do with the machine that received the hails. More specifically, the fact that it was on fire and melting to slag.

As was the room it was in.

As was the building it was in.

As was every other single building around it.

There was nothing to check the fire, for the only beings that could have done so were dead. In death, both Roe and Tarlos were equal, both in their wounds and in the look of fear frozen on the faces of those whom had managed to escape with a visage.

For a moment longer, the colony burned.

Then the giant bolt came down and an inferno exploded outward, reducing the buildings, the corpses, the ground, and everything else to ash. Within seconds the small planetoid had cracked apart and exploded outward before it was reduced to nothingness.

And once again, the figure laughed his silent laugh in the cold vacuum. When he spoke he made no sound, but he did not care. They could hear him anyway.

"This has been so much fun…but the time for amusement is over. It is time to begin…and the only thing left to do with that is to find the best place to begin it."

Swirling, the figure flew off, hunting for the last planet it would ever see.