Transportation Mission - Invited Kalabas

Like many after the Fall of Vegeta Kalabas sought refuge in the desolate blue mudball known as Earth, he had set up shop in Diablo Desert as a mercenary/courier/etiquette teacher of sorts, lived in a sandworn wooden shack that quickly expanded into a most rustic château, growed in power and as person by leaps and bounds, forged friendships with people that to this day he respected and, in some cases, mourned… All things considered, he admitted to himself, Earth was most certainly a more welcoming place than Namek, and its people were actually not that bad - better than Vegeta’s in some aspects, even!

Deep in thought and warmed by a pleasant buzz, Kalabas planned for the future, the whelp’s in particular. Sighing, he poured himself another pitch of rum and cola only to have a stray pamphlet fly right into his face. “Devils below!” he cursed as he slammed the ill-fated paper on the barrel and kicked away the glass shards of what was once his pitcher. He grumbled through the text, some obvious scheme, and was interested enough to take over the con so he could buy at least twenty replacements for the broken pitcher. Kalabas knew himself a wise man, he’d have no trouble avenging the calamity done to him.

And so the Duke of Strongbone flew to Sand Street, where he found the most obvious undercover strongman he had seen. The lion beastman was tall, wide, and muscular, he also wore a hood… He couldn’t be the brains of the operation, could he? But then again, he did look substantially lacking in the head department. “Weapons of Steel is as obvious a name as one can get, it makes as little sense as calling one’s bakery Cakes of Wheat, no?” he spoke aloud and spitefully, such blatant incompetence was a cardinal sin in his eyes “You are also shipping military hardware to an undisclosed location, an ‘abandoned tower’... Need I say more?”

“In fact, I do. Bear with me now - as I am certain that that alien brain of yours must dwarf only that of a walnut - the payment of, and I quote: Five. Million. Zenni? It. Is. Stupid. Weapons and scouters are mass produced by the thousands of billions all over this blasted galaxy, especially in these of turbulent times, how can a mere supply go above half a million, you maned ugly sod?” Kalabas gloated like only he could, “I am a Duke, you see? Not short of affluence nor influence, one might say… Alas, I do not negotiate with morons. Hand over the shipment you weakling, or I shall skin you and make socks out of your pelt.”

Kalabas made a hurt expression, as if blades had oh so slowly scraped through his temples and prodded whatever parts of the brain dealt with frustration and annoyance. If these two were indeed agents of the Kingdom, which they most certainly weren’t, then no amount of princelings and despoiler queens would be enough for it to stay afloat. Such a needlessly complicated, risky, and stupidly underhanded yet somehow blatantly obvious endeavour could only spell the end for an organization as old, powerful and influential as the Saiyan Kingdom… And there was certainly no shortage of folk capable of doing a much better job than these schmucks! Kalabas, for instance, had dabbled quite well in similar operations during Namek’s campaign, so why wasn’t he given control of a single gun run or anything of the sort? Simply because there was no need. Earth was an incredibly useful - if annoyingly scrupulous and independent - ally, and Vegeta had more puppet states than you can shake a stick at, attempting such a childish powerplay on what was perhaps the most well-protected planet in the galaxy… it made no damn sense! “My presence and good lucks are wasted on the two of you... SCOUTERS that record SOUND and IMAGE? How heavy was the rock under which your people have lived for the ten or hundred generations past? I’ve seen kids throwing such instruments as if snowballs they were, that’s how prevalent they are. Why, my veranda was funded by the trade of such goods, such inexpensive, versatile, replaceable goods… If any report comes of this then it will be penned by my hand, for such idiocy is worth being made an example of, so the ne'er do wells of the future learn to have the slightest clue of what they are doing.”

The saiyan flicked the scouter visor of Fang’s associate, shoving the shards through his eye. The poor bastard’s screams did nothing to lighten or worsen the Duke’s mood, such things were all in a day’s work for the gentleman. He seized the man by his nape and whipped his neck with a firm shake, ending the struggle. “The Kingdom distrusts all, little cub, even those who wear badges, for reasons such as these… If you and your friend - my sincerest condolences by the way - were indeed comrades of mine, then you would have notified the base up north and requisited actual warriors. Promising such a steep pay to any and all gullible enough to take the bait… well, it’s just not the saiyan way.”

Kalabas launched his arm forward and lifted Fang by his mane, robotic hand ready to again shatter a scouter and blind an idiot bandit. “You will find that us saiyans are quite stingy. We would never pay billions to some grunt… Answer me quickly or I shall give you a death far more amusing to me than you friend’s, where are the goods?”