|This story, Time to Make the Donuts, is written with the intent to preserve and respect the official Dragon Ball canon, and to fit perfectly into the established Dragon Ball universe, per this policy.|
It is recommended that you read Stay Frosty before this story.
Dangyu was always good at telling when something was about to go wrong. He knew exactly how many shots was too many, but since that threshold was far in the distance, he demanded that the bartender keep them coming. And when Frigor died and his young son Frost took over as the leader of the Peace Force, Dangyu was smart enough to realize that something wasn’t right.
He left the organization immediately, and started looking for another job. The moral goals of the Peace Force never really appealed to him. The only draw of the organization was that he got paid to kill, and the only other job with that description was a bounty hunter. And so, a bounty hunter he became.
Dangyu was quite a sight to beyond, as he sat on the barstool, leaning against the counter. His skin was a pale blue, and upon closer examination, it wasn’t skin at all, but a layer of tiny scales. His hair was dark green, wavy, and long, flowing wildly from his head to the bottom of his waist. His outfit was a gaudy and blue, and not dissimilar to the stereotypical garb of an American cowboy, although no such thing existed in Dangyu’s world. Both of his revolvers remained holstered, and if the night went well, they'd remain that way, and if the night went really well, he'd get to pull them out
Dangyu was still riding the wave of money he was given after his last hit, so he could easily afford to keep downing the shots that the bartender put in front of him, like he was dying of dehydration on a desert planet and the only form of liquid for miles around was liquor. For any other customer, the bartender would’ve stopped serving him and demanded that he go home, Dangyu had been here many times before, and the bartender knew he still had a while to go before there was any chance of him vomiting or passing out. Every time a shot was served, Dangyu would reach into his pocket, and give the bartender a huge wad of bills, obscenely overpaying him for each drink. The bartender would’ve insisted that he take his money back, and spend it more wisely, but he needed the money himself. Plus, every time he paid, Dangyu clumsily muttered “keep the change,” in his strange voice, which was both effeminate and gruff at the same time.
“Can I ask who you killed to get all this spending money?” the bartender asked.
“You already did,” Dangyu said. “But, if you must know...the son of some rich dipshit wanted me to kill his rich dipshit dad so he could get his inheritance. He payed me a shitton of cash but I know it’s only a drop in the bucket compared to what that fucker has in the bank. Hopefully he has an uncle who forgot to get him a present for his birthday one year, cause repeat customers always pay more the second time, cause they see how good I am.”
“I don’t have a lot of money, but if I ever do, I’d like to see my ex out of the picture,” the bartender said. Dangyu was too drunk to tell if he was joking.
The bar had other customers, but they all melded into an indistinct blur to the inebriated Dangyu. That was, until one particular figure cut through the monotony of the beings who surrounded him. Even if Dangyu didn’t know who he was, and he certainly did, he would’ve caught his attention. He carried himself with unbelievable poise and determination, which stood out even more against the crowd of stumbling drunks that surrounded him. He was a humanoid, with a bald head, and purple skin, with a long purple coat.
The other patrons stared, not out of fear, but out of a mix of fascination and admiration. Hit clearly did not enjoy their gaze, and would’ve prefered to go unseen. He sat himself next to Dangyu.
“One glass of water, please.”
“Sparkling or regular?” the bartender said.
“Regular,” Hit said. The bartender placed the glass of water on the counter, right next to Dangyu’s latest shot.
“Alright, last one for the night,” Dangyu said, tossing a ball of crumpled-up high-value bills at the bartender. Then, he turned to Hit.
“So, what brings you here?” he said, voice slurred. “Am I your latest target or something?”
Hit shook his head. “No. If you were, I wouldn’t attack you in such a public place.”
“Why? I’m pretty sure everyone here’s seen a dead body at least once.”
Hit wouldn’t allow the conversation to be derailed. “I’ve come here to talk about your...occupation.”
“My occupation? What, are you worried that I’m moving in on your turf cause I’m an assassin too?”
“Essentially, yes,” Hit said. Hit’s glass seemed to be half-full, although Dangyu didn’t recall seeing him take a single drink from it.
“I’ve noticed a decline in clients since you arrived,” he continued.
“Yeah, so what? Not everyone needs some fucking badass who can punch a hole in space and time or whatever the fuck it is you do. I’m weaker but cheaper, so some clients come to me instead of you. That’s competition. That’s capitalism, baby! If you want to keep up, you need to charge less.”
“It would be disrespectful to myself and my clients to charge any less than I currently do.” he said. “I provide perfection, and I charge accordingly.”
“Well, that means the clients you do end up getting pay a shitton, right? So it’s not like you’re going out of business.”
“My financial stability is not the issue here.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“That’s irrelevant. Do you really want to anger someone of my strength?”
“If I really thought that I could make you angry enough to kill me, I wouldn’t have opened my mouth in the first place.”
Hit was silent, and his glass was empty.
“Ooooooh, I get it,” Dangyu said. “No, I got this all figured out. You aren’t upset about getting less clients because of money, right? No, there’s gotta be some other reason. You’re upset because you like the thrill of the chase, right? It’s how you get your kicks, and only getting a few jobs a month from some super-rich fucks is starting to get boring, right?”
“Something like that,” Hit said.
“Ah, well, you see, that’s something I can work with. You know, for a time-controlling super assassin, you seem like a pretty reasonable guy. I’m sure we could talk something out. It’d be a lot easier if you had a couple drinks in you, though. Hey, bartender!”
Dangyu summoned over the bartender. “Get this man a shot,” he said, hurling another absurd sum of money at him.
Hit drank the shot, wincing as if he was being forced to drink poison. The buzz was almost instantaneous for him, which Dangyu picked up on.
“Lightweight, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” he said. “So, you like killing for fun? That’s understandable. I mean, I’m mostly in it for the money, but I couldn’t see myself working as an accountant either, you know? My job’s gotta involve killing somehow, not cause I think it’s fun, but because it’s all I’m good at.”
“I’m not a sadist,” Hit said defensively.
“Oh, shit, sorry dude. I thought I had you pinned, didn’t mean to insult you or anything.”
“No, it’s fine,” Hit said, requesting another shot from the bartender. His voice was quiet to the point of being barely audible, as if he was hoping that the bartender wouldn’t hear him. But, he did, and he provided Hit with his second shot. This one went down far more easily. “If you don’t like being an assassin, why do you do it, then? And why are you mad at me?” he asked.
“I never said I didn’t like being a hitman,” he said, ordering his third shot of the night. Dangyu couldn’t help but feel proud.
“I still remember my first assignment. My target had kidnapped my client’s father, and sold him into slavery. I will never forget the moment when he crumpled after a single strike to his heart.”
“Sounds like a mean bastard. Why didn’t the Peace Force take care of him?”
“Because they didn’t exist.” Hit said, swallowing a fourth shot. He was clearly fairly drunk, although he didn’t seem to be slurring, although he did start speaking slowly, probably to ensure that his perfect pronunciation remain untarnished.
“I am over 1000 years old,” he said. Normally, his age was a point of pride to him, but he felt somewhat embarrassed about sharing it now.
“Ahhhhhhhh, I get it,” Dangyu said. “No, I totally get you. You’ve been around for a long time, like, longer than I can even imagine. You’ve probably seen tons of shit, right?”
Hit wouldn’t have phrased it in such a vulgar way, but he nodded.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m still young, and I’ve probably only seen a little of all the universe has to offer, and even I think it’s all bullshit. I can’t imagine how bored you must be. But the thrill of the hunt never goes away, right? Nothing’s ever boring when death is involved. You end someone’s life so you can feel alive.”
Hit nodded, At this point, he had drank six shots, all lined up neatly in front of him.
“It was nice talking to you,” Hit said, taking his seventh shot, taking a moment to savor it as it went down.
“Lord Frost has hired me to eliminate you,” Hit said after a long, dead silence. Even if Hit hadn’t employed his time-skip, his knuckle still would’ve crushed Dangyu’s heart faster than he could’ve possibly reacted.
Dangyu’s body fell from the barstool with a thud, laying on the ground, leaving a clean, bloodless corpse.
Hit rose from his seat, placed his hands in the pocket of his coat, and left.