Celmaru Waterfield
New Member
49 posts 
Race: Hybrid
Power Level: 100,000
Zeni: 7,500
Training Points: 20
Fighting Style: Balanced
Items: Medium Training Weights
Easter Egg (5% healing item)
Dragon Radar [Earth]
Oozaru Gauntlet[Right]
Transformations:
Great Ape (Full Control) [x15]
FSSJ (Variant) [x12]
Berserker[Omen][x10][5% TM]
Planet: Earth
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Post by Celmaru Waterfield on May 21, 2019 0:18:10 GMT
A hybrid sat upon the local elementary school's nearby sidewalk. Absentmindedly rocking himself to and fro, the hybrid Celmaru Waterfield awaited for his twin daughters to be released from their education. The fourteenth hour had passed some odd few minutes ago. It was only a matter of time. In the meantime, however, the hybrid ultimately kept to himself; glancing upon the passerby and their vehicles. Albeit, this activity was little more than what Planet Namek was within the duration of the hybrid's trip. In the end, it was evidently monotonous. This, unfortunately, only dawned upon the hybrid over time.
As if on cue, the calamitous school bell buzzed. As the synthetic bell echoed into the adjacent neighborhoods, boisterous waves of minuscule children flooded from the gates. Oh no. As if also via a cue, further waves of vehicles bearing parental supervision flooded the neighboring streets. Both parties arrived in droves, each equally disorganized and chaotic. Sweet Mother of Ayumu, it was HFIL on Earth! Haphazardly stumbling to become able to stand fully, Celmaru attempted to escape the majority of the crowd's stamping feet. The horde was swift, deadly, perhaps even a bit noxious.
The sea of parents and children alike swarmed the hybrid with relative ease. Yet, this wouldn't be all -- as an unfamiliar face attempted to engage in conversation with Celmaru. A moderately built woman, likely within her early thirties, hair swept downward from one side. Many would imagine she wished to speak to numerous managers. In any event, this woman wasn't exactly thrilled to witness Celmaru existing within fifty miles of her. Some incident regarding the hybrid's youngest child and the woman's eldest daughter.
"You there! What are you doing here?"
The hybrid froze, albeit briefly.
"...Is that you Missus Bloose?"
"Ugh."
"I see."
"I bet you're here to retrieve your neanderthal munchkins again!"
Away from the all-seeing glare of Mrs. Bloose, the hybrid's brow twitched.
"Yes ma'am, you're correct."
"Oho... oho... I do hope you don't have any plans today."
"...What ever could you mean by that, Missus Bloose?"
The hybrid, evidently to those who weren't facing away from him, maintained a lax facial expression. Despite the previous twitch of the brow, Celmaru wasn't one to cower entirely under the woman's itchy lawsuit finger. That, nor the thirty-six exceedingly well-built men clambering out of the Bloose family vehicle --
Wait, how many?
WC: 394
TWC: 394
Thread PL: 77,797
Current PL (Medium Weights): 38,898
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Woran
New Member
13 posts
Race: Tuffle Prodigy
Power Level: 53,000
Zeni: 11,000
Training Points: 13
Fighting Style: Balanced
Transformations: System Overclock [x6]
Planet: Earth
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Post by Woran on May 27, 2019 3:01:03 GMT
Thread PL: 12,950
While the encounter between the two elementary school parents grew tenser and tenser, a figure watched from a nearby rooftop, idly swinging his legs back and forth in the breeze. The Tuffle named Woran was clad in his full Guardian armor, with the helmet of the battlesuit sitting upright next to him on the lip of the roof where he sat, waiting.
It had been several weeks since he had first touched down on this backwater planet to begin his survey of the world, and so far he was rather cautiously enjoying the scant freedom that he managed to scrounge for himself. It had been a simple matter to hack his way through the former commander's security protocols, as the firewalls and encryptions obstructing the Tuffle prodigy were so pathetically basic that they may as well have been designed by rabid Sayian children using a pack of crayons. From there, Woran had utilized Commander Echard's code to "hot-wire" the data the ship was streaming back to the PTO capital, making it appear like as was well aboard the scouting vessel, and there was no reason to send a "retrieval" force to investigate the sudden death of so many PTO soldiers. It was only a temporary fix mind you, but one the Tuffle was content on relying upon until he could find something better.
There was, however, a slight flaw in Woran's otherwise flawless stratagem. The energy pulse he had utilized to kill his former superior had been wild, uncontrolled, and had fried most of the scout ship's circuitry into a extremely conductive metal puddle. In addition, the reactor had suffered critical damage with the sheer amount of power thrown into it by Woran's extremely advanced reactor system, frying the safety locks and nearly going into critical meltdown before the Tuffle had just managed to fix it, but only just.
This left the prodigy with a rather major problem, as the scout ship would likely never be able to fly again, never mind traveling interstellar distances with any degree of safety. And yet, Woran's mission was due back to the PTO capital in a matter of months, and, without any ship to get there, he would likely be declared a rogue agent, and scheduled for termination. This problem had a rather logical conclusion: Woran needed a new ship, and he needed it quickly. But that required a good deal of money, and Earthlings were very unlikely to accept PTO credit in the amounts he would need to build a basic starship.
This all lead to the Tuffle hiring himself out as a mercenary of sorts to some of Earth's most wealthy and powerful people, something that was midly amusing at first, but had rapidly grown irritating as his employers put on airs, imagining themselves better then any common hired gun. The feeling was mutual.
With a great sigh, Woran reached for his helmet, snapping it into place on his battle suit with an audible click. Then Woran quite simply flung himself off the building, firing his thrusters at the last possible moment and coming to a rest a few meters behind and to the right of the woman, crossing his arms and standing silently, waiting.
Well, at least this is giving me a good chance to complete a psych evaluation of the humans, I wonder what this guy did to earn this much hate. He thought, watching the human through the blank faceplate of his helmet.
WC: 574
TWC: 574
Current PL: 12,950
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