Duality

Disclaimer: I'm but a humble author. This here is something made by a fan, for other fans.

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Chapter 2: Duality

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For Escar, life on Sadala consisted mainly of two things. Getting shitfaced and finding someone to fight. Usually, the two overlapped. Sometimes he'd fight someone while completely pissed. Other times, he'd have a fight, head over to the bar, and then share a drink with his opponent before heading back to the monastery for dinner.

It was a simple life, but one he enjoyed thoroughly. What Saiyan wouldn't? Consuming copious amounts of food and alcohol on top of fighting strong adversaries sounded like absolute heaven to him. Throw in some wild sex every once in a while – preferably with a chick he'd just fought – and that would leave him a delighted man.

"E-Escar," Sprout grunted, sporting several welts, a black eye and a split lip as he hobbled beside him. "Aren't you going to head in?"

Blinking, Escar pushed open the bar's entrance, the cacophony within hitting him all at once. He welcomed it, nodding respectfully at a couple of acquaintances and shooting teasing smirks at women he'd fought and fucked, slowly walking over to the counter, doing his best to not aggravate his bruised and battered body.

Though he would never show just how hurt he was to the moron hobbling beside him. He winced as he sat down, the scorched and blistered skin beneath his robe flaring up. Escar kept his face completely calm, breaking it only to smirk at Sprout when he inevitably let out a pained hiss as he eased himself onto the stool.

"What's wrong, Sprout?" his smirk grew wider. "Don't tell me you want to go home? We haven't even had a single drink yet."

The shorter man growled, a vein pulsing in his forehead. He forced his frown into a smile, eyes narrowing. "H-Heh. Nah, I'm just enjoying the atmosphere. Nice place you picked, eh?"

"It was either here or the brothel-cum-bar on the east side of the capital. I don't know about you but I'd rather not. Might just drop out of the sky on the way there."

"That's a shame." Sprout made a show of slumping in disappointment. "It's been a while since I've banged Quila. I do miss her…"

Escar snorted and, with gargantuan effort, raised a hand to signal to the bartender. "Dakon! How are you today? Any good tips yet?" he raised his pouch, shaking it slightly. "I've got you covered, man."

He could immediately spot the greed light up in the bartender's eyes, the man in question speeding over before he could return the pouch to his waist.

"Well if it ain't Escar!" he boomed, round belly jiggling. "And by the looks of it, you've been at it again," he quickly pulled down two tumblers from the rack behind him, filling them up with the only alcoholic beverage on Sadala: Sunset. "Who won between the two of ya?"

"I did," Escar said with no small amount of pride. "But it was a close one. This bastard here roughed me up pretty good."

Sprout glared at him, rubbing the spot on his arm that he had just thumped. "I'll rough you up even better next time. Gonna wipe that smug grin off your face too."

"You said the same last time, Sprout."

"And?" he raised his voice, smacking the table repeatedly for emphasis. "I got even closer to winning tonight. Imagine what'll happen next time."

He frowned. The match was closer than he'd like to admit, but Escar was still stronger than him. "I—"

Dakon quickly cut in, noticing tension in the air. "Have you two fellas seen the adverts for the annual Sadala tourney?"

"Nah. Can't say I have," Sprout replied. "Why?"

Escar snorted again. It was just like the moron to not pay attention to the biggest event on the planet.

"If ya've looked at them, you'll notice they've added a new division for this year's."

"Oh?" Escar leaned forward. "The snot-nosed brat one?"

"Yeah," Dakon basked in the attention for a moment. "There's a junior division now. See, I dunno why they'd want somethin' like that. It's boring as shit watching the little tykes scrap in the streets. What makes ya think we'd wanna watch them at the Anvil?!"

"Heh, I'm not sure 'bout that one, Dakon," Escar let a small but vicious smile play out across his face. "The brats back at the monastery are persistent fuckers. They ain't half bad too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Forget Callio, Bage, and Tato for a minute. There's this new kid: Korn," Escar stopped to laugh. "Idiot tried to rob me on my way out of here a while back. Even after drinking a sunset, he was easy to spot. He followed me around the entire day. Didn't care about stopping to get food or taking a leak either."

Sprout let out a snort. "Fucking whelps."

Escar quickly thumped his shoulder again, amused at the pained yelp from the man. "Anyway, the brat's been at the monastery for what? A month or two? Every day at the asscrack of dawn, the bastard comes to my healing tank and demands to fight me."

"Really?" Dakon's voice teetered on the edge of disbelief. "Nah, come off it. No kid can be that stupid."

"HA!" Escar barked out a laugh and took a generous sip from his tumbler. "I swear, you two should see him. A goddamned glutton for punishment, that one. I plant him into the dirt and he gets up again, muttering some shit about a "zenkai."

"You sure you haven't smacked him in the head one too many times, Escar?" Sprout asked, oddly concerned.

"It's good for him," he brushed it off, knocking back the rest of his tumbler. "Kid's gotten stronger by a fuckton. I beat him down, he tries to fight back, I knock his lights out and throw him into a healing tank. Rinse and repeat and you've got the formula for success right there. Mark my words, by the time he hits his first growth spurt, I'll finally have a half-decent training partner besides that old bag of bones."

"Abbot?"

"Who else," Escar scowled, taking out a handful of space credits and slamming them against the counter. "But that's enough chin-wagging. Another one!"

Dakon was happy to oblige, refilling his glass and topping up Sprout's.

Sprout laughed, setting down his tumbler. "You're only mad because you've been whooped by that "old bag of bones" more times than you can count."

"If you've got time to blabber then you ain't drinking enough," he grunted, picking up his tumbler and downing it one go, his throat burning. The liquid settled in his gut, spreading warmth all around his body. "Dakon, you know what to do. Another!"

"Aye, aye," the bartender filled up his tumbler once more before drifting off to greet the next customer.

Now that he had time to process exactly how beat up he was, Escar realised that getting back to the monastery in time for dinner would be a hassle.

"Ah, well," he shrugged and gulped down a mouthful of his drink. "Not much I can do now."

(Break)

Escar opened his eyes. The healing tank hummed, rattling slightly as the water within churned and bubbled, the lower half of his torso tingling with warmth. The periodic beeps and clicks of the system outside monitoring his vitals showed no abnormalities and he counted down the seconds until Korn would stomp his way across the room towards his tank.

Even from within the liquid-filled tank, he could hear the hiss of the doors opening, followed by several colourful curses so loud that he couldn't help but laugh at the irate child standing in front of him. "How's losing treating ya, brat?"

Korn scowled at him and released an explosive breath. His wild mane of hair reached the back of his neck, other parts curling around and resting on his collar bones whilst the rest of it stood up in defiance of gravity.

"Out," he said simply, his eyes steely. "Today's gonna be different, ya raging asshole."

"Heh. You said that yesterday too," he chuckled. "But you know the drill. Drain this thing of the juice and get me some clothes," he grinned as he watched the boy reach towards his robes from the previous night, waiting for just a second so that he'd grabbed them before he spoke again. His voice trembled with mirth as he gleefully revealed, "Oh, not those, kid! I'm pretty sure Sprout threw up on those! More than once!"

To his surprise, Korn didn't drop the robes, standing perfectly still. The only sign of his reaction was his fist tightly clenched around the brown cloth. A soft glow lit up around him, his hair slowly dancing as if tousled by an unseen wind.

"Lighten up, will you?" Escar snickered at the obvious anger. "I'm kidding. Seriously, though. Get me a clean set from my room. I'll be out in a bit, have breakfast, and then it's you and me."

Korn stared at him for a while longer, his eyes shining with the power he was leaking out in slow intervals. "For that, I'm going to sock you real good."

Escar rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that line. As strong as the brat was currently, he had a ways to go before he could even make him cut loose a little. Minutes later, Korn returned, an identical set of brown robes bundled into his arms as he tapped away at the control panel on the left side of the circular window ahead of him.

The constant metallic hum died, replaced by a slow gurgle from behind him. He stepped out of the tank, expelling the moisture on him by quickly flaring his ki. He slipped his robe on, tied his boots' laces and wandered out of the healing room. Nutritious food was inhaled and he strode out onto the courtyard, nodding at a couple of the older, shaven-headed monks getting their morning workouts in.

"So, are you just gonna stand here and watch me? I can see your legs shaking from here you wuss—" he cupped Korn's fist, inches before it reached his face and smirked. "Come on… you know better than to try that."

"Screw you," Korn grunted, rearing his entire body back, both his feet soaring upwards towards his chin.

Escar watched as he flipped in mid-air, righting himself and hovering above the ground. Always one for flashy shit, that kid, he sighed and shook his head wryly.

"Fancy. At least you can control your power decently. But you know the rules: we fight on the ground or not at all."

Korn held his eyes for a moment and slowly descended.

Just as his feet touched the ground, he burst forward in a blur of movement, arm cocked back and ready to fly. Escar readied his hands, intent on catching the blow and turning the kid's world upside down before he noticed anything had happened.

But where he'd expected to grab onto a childish albeit muscular arm, he felt nothing, staring into the eyes of a flickering mirage. Its lips were pulled up, the half-smirk so smug that it rubbed him all the wrong ways.

"Over here!" Korn roared, speeding towards him heel-first. "I've got you— GAH!"

Escar vanished behind him and stifled his laughter as the boy was sent hurtling across the arid courtyard by a haymaker he obviously couldn't see. It was cut short by a spike in power that had him raise an eyebrow.

"ENOUGH OF THIS, GODDAMN IT!" Korn yelled, his robes covered in dust and dirt. A flaming white aura surged wildly, kicking up dust clouds that fanned outward. "FIGHT ME! OR ARE YA JUST A BITC—!"

Immediately Escar was upon him. Powering through a flurry of jabs and kicks that were strong enough for him to feel… but that was it. A single punch to the temple brought Korn to his knees.

He immediately rocketed to his feet, eyes twinkling with his lips pulled back in a goofy grin that revealed a fair amount of teeth. After noticing his split lip, he wiped it with the back of his hand and laughed. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

"Fucking maniac," Escar scowled, unnerved by the enthusiasm, his furious retort dying before it had the chance to leave his tongue.

Still, he took up a ready stance, dialling back just enough that the kid would still get something useful out of the clobbering in store for him. Korn wasted no time, jumping up high above his head to kick down at him, leveraging all the momentum he could. Escar blocked it simply by placing a forearm between his head and Korn's leg, pushing against it.

Using his arm as a springboard, Korn flipped backwards, landing on his feet and closing the distance in an instant.

Escar slipped back from a wild hook, smashing three blows into his chest for the slip-up. He could have ended it there but gave him a moment to recover. To his surprise, Korn reared back and slammed his forehead against his own and Escar stumbled slightly, more out of shock than anything else.

Before he could process it, his feet were kicked out from under him, the world shifting axis as he rushed to meet the cracked and dry earth. Yellow light dominated his vision as Korn brought down a ball of searing energy pulsing within his hand.

It would have connected with his head had he not flicked a finger at it, a spark of his suppressed power directed towards it. And as weak as the spark was, it was enough to set off the blast prematurely. He sprung up, all his weight supported by one hand, darting backwards as the resulting explosion pushed Korn in the opposite direction, his palm scorched and blackened in some places.

Escar took the moment of reprieve to admire the kid's fighting style. It lacked the regimented and orderly nature of the styles he'd usually come across from ex-Sadalan Military or the more passive and defensive forms from Abbot's style that was taught at the monastery. But it wasn't so rough that it showed inexperience or needlessly left him open. Just unpredictability. Escar couldn't think of a style better suited for the kid.

For close to fifteen minutes, Escar let the kid dictate the flow of the battle. If he went high, he followed, mirroring the kid's every move, only breaking the dance to keep him on his toes. He would never admit it, but the kid had improved by leaps and bounds from the moronic battle addict who would run headfirst into punches without a second thought.

He snorted a little as Korn accepted a blow to his stomach for the opportunity to take his head off with a hook that tore through the air. Maybe the battle addiction was still strong, but at least he was going about it more smartly.

He loosened his guard a little, blocking a snaking kick towards his head. Escar had an instant to notice his amusement at Korn's widened eyes before he retaliated with an uppercut that he could feel sink into his face, sending him high into the air.

"Don't say you didn't ask for this," he laughed, following the kid's trajectory with an agile leap.

Once he reached the peak of the jump, Escar slammed an elbow into the kid's back, feeling something give way with a sickening crack. Even he winced a little at the sound the kid made as he hurtled to the floor. A low, feeble groan escaped Korn's lips before he enthusiastically embraced the earth.

"Yo!" Escar called out, a little worried. As much as he enjoyed beating on the brat, he didn't want to kill him. "Are you alive? Make a noise or something."

He heard another groan and let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Hoisting Korn onto his shoulder, he made his way across the furthermost dirt track, one that led down a set of stairs and across a torch-lit hallway. Turning left, he slipped through the automatic sliding doors, revealing ten healing tanks neatly placed next to one another.

Escar tossed him into the nearest one, hooking him up to a set of wires to monitor him, and fitted the oxygen mask over his face. He pressed a button and watched the tank fill up with medicinal liquid. Once it was full, he thumped the window lightly to get its occupant's attention.

Somehow, throughout the pain and the walk to the healing chamber, Korn had managed to stay conscious.

"You should get a pretty decent jump out of this," he said, smothering a hint of what realised was pride. "I'm guessing you'll be stronger than Bage when you wake up. Maybe you could put up a decent fight against Callio and win if you play your cards right but Tato'll steamroll the both of you – at the same time. I still don't get why he follows Callio around like a lovesick hound."

He waited around a little after the tank had filled up with liquid, making sure everything was right before he left the monastery in a burst of speed. He zipped through hallways and up the stairs, a cloud of dust trailing behind him as he cut across the courtyard.

With a single leap, he cut through the sky, a flaming white aura sparking to life around him.

"I wonder if Nessa's down to get her bones jumped," he floated in the air for a moment, giving the idea some serious thought before taking off eastward.

If she wasn't, then there was always someone else, somewhere else. Saiyans were just like that.