Descent ((Open to all))

Makoto sat on the outskirts of the city. He flipped through the wad of cash in has hand that he had gotten from selling his apartment. Sighing he looked around. He really needed to stop with the moping. It wasn't good for him. If he did some more work he might be able to afford a small house out in the forest. Maybe he could just build one himself. The flashes were getting worse.

Artik had made a trip to the market for a sack of apples. He also checked up on the Safe House and made a mental note to give Cyril more tasks. Mulling over his life, he yawned and realized he was in the outskirts of town. He sat down under a tree and mumunched an apple when he felt Makoto nearby. He walked in his direction and tripped at the Saiyan's feet. He looked up. "Hi."

Makoto looked down at Artik and sighed. "Really? You do realize that kings don't do stuff like that. "He picked up Artik with on arm and stood him up. He looked at where his hand was on Artik and he imagined squeezing and snapping the bones. He stared for a few seconds longer than he should have then snapped back to reality. "So...Umm Artik....What brings you here?

Artik shook his head and giggled. "Yeah but Taiyō no Hitobito do." He blinked. "The hell does that mean?" But to Artik, the term was... right. He yawned. "Errands." Artik looked at Makoto's face, then the stacks of Zen and gave him a piteous smile. "Makoto..." He frowned, "You don't have to be a meth dealer. Wanna come live with me? Roomies!"

Cyril came from absolutely nowhere in particular. He popped down from the tree hanging by his legs. "The top bunk is mine and I expect a discount!" Cyril laughed.

Makoto looked at the man by him. "He'd make a good plaything." Makoto blinked. What the fuck did I just say?!? He stepped back unable to hide his fear. "Artik I have to decline. I just..." Suddenly Makoto saw his friends face melt and turn to bloody gore and bones. He looked down at his hands and saw Artik's melted face in them. He stepped back once again and dropped the melted face before it disappeared. He looked back up and Artik was just standing there.

Cyril looked at Makoto hard for a moment. He saw the startled look on his face and the brief moment of... horror? And did he just call Cyril a plaything? "Either Artik wasn't joking when he said you were selling drugs or... what's wrong?"

Artik threw Cyril an apple. He studdied Makoto for answer. None being found, he just stood there.

Cyril took the apple and the hint and didn't bother them.

Makoto looked between Cyril and Artik. "I'm not on drugs and...I just...." Makoto had no idea what to say. He couldn't say he was insane because he had no clue if he was. He leaned back against a tree and sighed. "Lets just...move on ok?" He looked over at Cyril. "Who are you again? I remember we met once but...All I remember is that your the king of Earth now or something?"

Artik blinked, allowing the subject to change. He took out a capsule and threw it on the ground, revealing a tea set. He poured and a cup and waited for it to cool. He sat cross-legged on the ground. Yawning, he took a sip, studying Makoto and discreetely clicked his scouter. Nothing wrong with the Saiyan physically. 'Need to watch Makoto carefully.' He sliced an apple with a ki beam and ate a sixteenth of it. Artik put on his crown, the black, yellow, and red thing he had reforged after Zeus let the original fall into a black hole. Actually, he had some of his Rava friends (a rare thing, nice Rava) make an official Planetary Object for the important planets: Namek's Staff, Uberia's Coinpurse, Yardrat's Boots, Vegeta's Crown, and Earth's Pocketwatch. They all represent the planet's life and culture. He yawned.

"Cyril. And yes but I prefer the term supreme overlord." Cyril winked and pulled out his pocket watch to check the time

Makoto sighed and sat down. He watched Artik use his scouter and blinked. There isn't anything wrong with me Artik ok?" Plus even if there was the scouter wouldn't really tell you." He then looked at Cyril. "Don't expect me to give you any special treatment. Take Artik here for example. He is king of Vegeta and I still think he is a fucking idiot sometimes and I say it to his face." He sat down at the tea table and leaned back. He looked over at the other two and hoped there wouldn't be anymore flashes.

Artik briefly wondered where the table and chair came from, but dismissed the the thought.

"Special treatment? Never." Cyril said as he reached down from the tree, vainly trying to grab a cup of tea. He wondered for a moment where the table and chair had come from. Cyril got a finger on the cup and pulled it towards the low hanging branch he was on. He drank the tea and thought for a moment. He looked absently at Makoto for awhile. Deciding to ignore Makoto's denial of anything being wrong, he attempted to diagnose the problem. "Were you hallucinating or remembering something? How long has this been happening?"
Cyril definitely knew a lot about psychological conditions. He had had to mimic symptoms of very many disorders for various reasons. None of your business though.

Artik sipped his tea and sighed. He frowned, knowing something's wrong with Makoto. Again. There was something he needed to do. To help Makoto. He kept his expression passive and thought into Cyril's mind, 'Watch him. Closely. Please.' He stood up, bowing to both of his friends. "Well, I have to finish a few errands. Makoto, Cyril, I'll just be a thought-signal away." He flew off.

Cyril acknowledged the request without showing it and watched Artik go. When Artik left his sight he turned back to Makoto and repeated his questions.

Makoto sighed. "God damn you people. Your too smart for your own good." He looked at Artik fly away. "And Artik. I can hear that too you know. I am a pretty good telepath." He watched his friend fly away then looked at Cyril. "So your my psychologist huh?" Makoto laughed. "There isn't much that can be done by talking. I guess I will just have to show you myself." He put his hand up to Cyril's forehead and showed him the memories that he had seen. The ones of him killing his parents and the ones of him slaughtering the police. "Have fun making out what that means 'Doc'"

Cyril closed his eyes tight. "Yeeeaaaah I see how that could lead to some problems." Cyril looked thoughtful and dropped down from the tree. "Hmm Saiyan psychology.." Cyril shook his head and scratched it. "Well I'm not expert but I think I got a fair bit a knowledge of how your species is built from that peek. Have you been hearing voices? Any trouble with motor skills? Do you feel a constant sense of danger? Night terrors?" Cyril was a bit puzzled. Hallucinations and a traumatic past could mean just about everything.

Stan flew around, trying to find weaklings to crush, when he happened upon a couple of high powerlevels. 'Too high to kill.' He dropped in on their tea party and sat in a chair. "Hello," he said in a very annoying voice.

Cyril immediately wanted to rip this Namekians throat out. That was weird, he'd never had that impulse before. Millions of years and he had never wanted to kill someone. Cyril had had to do it more times than he ever wanted to think about it but never without cause. And since when did Namekians have facial hair? "Hello..." Cyril stared at this strange man. Or woman. Cyril wasn't entirely sure about Namekian physiology.

Makoto looked at the Namekian. "Yo." He had a massive urge to grab the Namekian and choke him to death with his own severed arm but then again he had been feeling that urge a lot lately. He looked at the beard and blinked. "Ummmm did you kill a squirrel and tape it to your face or something?"

Stan rolled his at the Saiyan that made him uneasy. "Hello," he said to the top-hat-guy. He looked back to the Saiyan. "You're Makoto. Satan says 'hi'."

"Satan? So what you were in Hell?" Cyril stared at the man ignoring the urge to fashion a noose from his facial hair and hang him with it. Cyril shifted uneasily. He really hoped this namekian wasn't who he thought it was. "Er... what's your name?"

The hellmekian poured himself some tea and turned the liquid in his cup to absinthe. "Stan," he said, smirking. He downed the absinthe. "Muahahah--- The f-*hick*?" Stan coulda sworn that the Saiyan and Top-Hat-Guy weren't made of chalk seconds ago. Then he remembered something.

'Stan, alcohol cannot be consumed by Nameks. Their diet consists of water. That fuzz will shiz you iz.'

Stan ignored Satan. "Bish, please!" He screamed at the ground.

He looked at ChalkHatGuy. "Your friendsh and famiy shaysh 'hi'," he giggled cruelly.