Chapter I: The Arrival of Radicks

Earth. A jewel of a planet. From space, its blue expanses proclaim the presence of that most precious substance: water, dihydrogen oxide, a compound essential for the evolution of life. This tiny world in a small backwater galaxy has somehow produced warriors with the power to alter the fate of the entire universe.

And the universe has noticed.

A meteor streaks towards the planet. As it enters the magnetosphere, its tremendous speed generates a massive friction force, exciting air particles around it, wreathing it in a cloak of blazing fire.

Down on a particularly unfortunate patch of the Earth's surface, a filthy unwashed farmer looks up at the heavens. "Well hush ma mouth and call me a sheep lover! It's one o' them shootin' stars! Ma, we gon' have ourselves a good harvest this year!"

The star plunges to Earth, smashing into a field not far away, raising a thick cloud of smoke. The farmer hops into his pick-up truck, slams his foot on the gas and tears off to investigate. Arriving at the scene he finds a huge crater with a mysterious silver orb in its centre.

A panel in the orb's side opens. Someone steps out.

"Ah, what a gorgeous planet." The man's voice is deep. He is wearing a strange suit of armour. His arms and legs are layered with shining muscle and a wild mane of hair cascades down his back. "I am loving what he's done with the place. Green grass with azure sky? An unusual combination, bold and striking. And those fluffy white clouds drifting everywhere add just a touch of retro chic. This could be a serious contender in this year's Planetary Design Awards."

The farmer is terrified. He's just seen a strange man climb out of a falling star. He does what any sensible country person does when confronted with something he doesn't understand: he loads his shotgun and prepares to open fire. "You there!" he yells. "Space man! What the hell is ya, some kinda alien?"

The man turns and arches an eyebrow in surprise. "Hmm? What is this? A native life form? Fagarot was supposed to eliminate them. Tsk, tsk, sloppy work. They'll take points off for that."

"Get offa ma property! What didja come to Earth for, anyways? To do experiments on us? Now see here, I ain't bein' anally probed again, so ya best go back where ya came from."

The man's face wrinkles in distaste. "I assure you, you are not the sort of person I would anally probe. I have to be careful about that now. I still haven't recovered from the rash I picked up on Xanthax Five." The alien reaches up to a strange device attached to the side of his head. A green lens projects from it, covering his left eye. He pushes a button and yellow characters dance on the lens' surface. "Hmph. Your badass level is only five. I'm afraid you're beyond help." He walks towards the farmer.

"What ya doin'? Stay right there!"

"You poor, pathetic fool. It's time I finished what Fagarot started. Your miserable race must be put out of its misery."

"I'm warnin' ya, I'll shoot!"

The alien sighs. "It's been too long since a man's had his weapon pointed at me, threatening to shoot. It's a shame you're a dog. You're not fit to lick the boots of a Gaiyan warrior."

"Take this, terrorist!" The farmer fires.

The alien snorts. "Was this meant to hurt me?" He raises his left hand. The bullet gleams, caught between his thumb and forefinger. He snickers at the expression on the farmer's face. "Here, have it back." He flicks the bullet with such force that it penetrates the pick-up truck's bonnet. The speed of the bullet's flight ignites the gas in the engine, and the truck explodes in a fireball. In the blink of an eye, the alien is standing before the farmer. He tears the shotgun out of the farmer's hands and ties it into a knot. "Let me see the look of terror on your face before I kill you."

The farmer's face sets itself into a fishlike rictus.

"Is that the best you can do? Jackass, you can't even die properly." The alien reaches out with one hand and crushes the farmer's windpipe. He lifts the farmer off his feet and smashes his lifeless body to the ground. "I would have ripped your head off but I don't want to get blood on my new armour. It's by Frederici."

Suddenly, the device on the alien's face makes a beeping noise. "Ooh, what's this? A badass level in the hundreds? That must be Fagarot! Excellent." He rises into the air and speeds off into the distance.

…

On a small island in the middle of the sea, the Dragonboyz and their crew were having a wonderful reunion. A little shack stood on the island. It was the home of Master Sushi, who had been banned from visiting the mainland or coming within 100 feet of any girls' school.

"Welcome, welcome!" cackled Master Sushi. "It's so good to see you two again."

"My eyes are up here, Master Sushi," snapped Bulimia Boxers. She was a brilliant scientist, but more importantly a total babe with a bangin' bikini body. She had unwisely chosen to wear a low-cut top, which exposed the tight, firm curves of her bosom. Master Sushi wiped a trickle of drool from his chin and tried to close his jaw.

"Bllblblbluhhhhh," he mumbled.

Bulimia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes it's so tiring being the token female on this show."

"Hey, Bulimia, how's it going!" said Gremlin, raising a hand in greeting.

Bulimia crossed her arms. "Oh, are you still here, you little bald turd? Where's Broku?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in ages."

"Well, is he coming? I bet he's really hot now. I only came to this stupid island because I wanted to see him."

"Hey Bulimia -"

"No, Gremlin, for the last time, I'm not interested in you. No offence, but I like men with hair. And a height greater than that of an eleven year old girl."

"Oh. Well, you can't blame a guy for trying."

"I've been rejecting you for the past ten years, you ugly little dwarf. Can't you find someone else to bother? Master Sushi! Eyes up here!"

"Look! The Flying Numbass!"

A golden cloud descended from the sky, carrying a tall warrior in orange keikogi with spiky black hair. The faint smell of "herbs" wafted over the island. The warrior beamed. "Duhhh… hey, guys! How's it going!"

"Broku!" screeched Bulimia. "You're so tall and handsome and built! Squeee!"

"Asshole," muttered Gremlin. "Hey, Bulimia, he's married to Bit-chi, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Bulimia's face fell. "Skank."

"Who's the squirt, Broku?" wheezed Master Sushi.

"What?" Broku frowned. A little boy was hiding behind his leg. "Argh, a midget! How did that get there?" Broku shook his leg, trying to get the boy off.

The boy said, "Daddy, I'm your son!"

"Oh yeeeah. I forgot. Guys, this is my son, Lohan."

"I didn't know you had a son!" said Bulimia. "I've never seen him before."

"Well, he's just come out of rehab."

"I don't need to drink or do drugs to make me feel good," the boy said shyly. "It's not my fault Mommy and Daddy don't love me. I'm a good person and I should respect myself."

"That's my boy," said Broku, patting him on the head. "Now shut up, no one cares."

"So you're a father now," Bulimia said. "That's so sweet. I'm sure you're a great dad."

"Yeah. It happened so suddenly. I guess the stork must've come while I wasn't looking. Bit-chi tried to tell me this funny story! She tried to tell me the boy came out of her vajayjay! HAHAHAHA! Can you imagine that!"

"Oh, God." Bulimia covered her eyes with her hand.

"HAHAHA! I mean, he can't even fit up there! HEHEHE! She's got some imagination, I'm telling you!"

There was an awkward silence.

Then Broku said, "Hey, Bulimia, did you get stung by a wasp or something? Your chest is all swollen and lumpy."

"What a cute little boy!" Bulimia said loudly. "He looks just like his father at that age."

Suddenly, Master Sushi gasped. "An enormous badass level is heading in this direction!"

A point of light appeared on the horizon. It grew until it became a second sun, hurtling towards them. The sphere of light settled on the roof of Master Sushi's house and faded, revealing a tall armoured man with a thick mane of black hair. He crossed his arms.

"Well, well, Fagarot," the man said. "What strange company you keep."

"Guys, look, a new friend!" said Broku. "Hey man, nice to meet you."

Master Sushi knitted his eyebrows. "Careful, Broku. I'm not sure he's friendly."

"Look!" Bulimia said. "That man has a tail, just like Broku used to have! A long, thick, hard, hairy tail… covered in thick fur… you can run your fingers through it… soft and warm… squeeze it… let it wrap around you… unnhhhh…" Bulimia sighed and began stroking her neck.

The man on the roof glowered. "What are you doing, Fagarot? Why have you failed to redesign this planet? Why is your hair free from hair-care products? Why are your nails un-manicured? Why are you wearing that ridiculous outfit when orange went out of fashion last season? Explain yourself!"

"Duhhh… are you talking to me?" asked Broku. "'Cos my name is Broku. Why're you calling me Fagarot?"

"Because that is your name. Your real name. Your Gaiyan name."

"What's a Gaiyan? Is that like Neil Gaiman?"

"Can it be? You have forgotten the race-memory encoded in your very DNA? Every gene in every cell of your body sings the praise of your glorious ancestors, but it seems you are ignorant of that." The man shook his head. "It happens sometimes with lesser Gaiyans. Something has disrupted your development. But you are descended from pure stock, a prince among our kind. How could you have so disgraced us? I can only console myself with the thought that our noble father Hardcock is not here to see this. My name is Radicks. And I am your brother." The man paused dramatically.

"Yeah, you are my brother, man," Broku said cheerfully. "We're all brothers and sisters here. Come on down and join the party."

"No, you fool! I do not mean that I am your brother, bro, homie, homeboy, boy, man, coz or cousin! I mean that I am your brother, your actual biological brother! We share the same father."

Master Sushi, Gremlin and Bulimia gasped.

Radicks pointed at Broku. "You are not of this world. You are a Gaiyan. You belong to a proud race of warriors, hairdressers, fashionistas, interior designers, interpretive dancers, theatrical actors and flight attendants. We Gaiyans are planet-brokers. We invade planets, eradicate the local life forms and redesign the entire world from the ground up, giving it a total makeover. We build trendy malls, pretentious book stores, overpriced restaurants, convenient gyms, fabulous art galleries, X-rated nightclubs and easily accessible parks and sporting facilities. We create sustainable self-regulating ecosystems driven by clean energy. We invent new life-forms and environments that are useful, energy efficient and fabulously stylish. Thus we drive up the value of the entire planet and sell it on for an enormous profit."

"You monsters!" said Master Sushi.

"I don't know," Bulimia said. "Some of those developments sound like pretty good ideas. If, you know, they didn't kill everyone."

"Wow," said Broku. "That's cool."

Radicks nodded. "You were sent here as a baby to renovate this planet. You have failed in your duty."

"Uh, I think someone would have told me if I was a baby from outer space!" Broku giggled.

"Um, Broku?" said Master Sushi. "Your grandpa found you in a little space pod that fell from the sky."

"Really?" Broku blinked. "But then why didn't I kill everything and redesign the planet?"

"When you were a little boy, you were extremely intelligent, aggressive and gender confused. Your grandfather would despair at your violent, destructive acts and your tendency to wear women's clothes. Terrified that you would become a homo, go mad and kill someone, he used to beat you every day with a steel rod, all out of the goodness of his heart. One day he beat you so hard that you fell over and smashed your head on the ground, suffering irreversible brain damage. Ever since then, you have been extremely slow, but your violent impulses and effeminate nature have been replaced by a sweet simplicity and a love of women's lady parts."

"Aww," said Broku. "So that's why I get those awful seizures and headaches. Gee, Grandpa sure was nice to me. I'll never forget that old man's kindness."

"Now, Fagarot," growled Radicks, "the time has come to make things right. Join me, and together we shall rain fiery death and destruction upon this filthy planet! We shall purge this world of all living things and create something new and beautiful from the ashes."

"No thanks."

"It wasn't a question, Fagarot. You were gifted with tremendous power. You must use that power for the good of the Gaiyan race!"

"I don't want to. I want to play Call of Duty. Want to play with me?"

"Which one?"

"Modern Warfare 3."

"No!" Radicks' face twisted in fury. "You will come with me, Fagarot! Perhaps I just need to give you some incentive." Radicks' eyes flickered around the island. He vanished, and in an instant he was beside Lohan, lifting the boy into the air.

"Hey!" Lohan yelled. "Let me down! I'm good! I didn't touch the beer in the fridge, I swear! It evaporated!"

Radicks hissed, "If you ever want to see your half-breed son again, Fagarot, you will come and find me. You have one local day, the time it takes this planet to complete one revolution, to do so. Otherwise the boy dies." Radicks rose into the air and jetted away. In a second he was out of sight.

"Woo, look!" laughed Broku. "The stork is taking Lohan away again! Bye bye, Lohan! Come back soon! Hahaha!"

"Broku, this isn't a joke!" Master Sushi snapped. "Your son has just been kidnapped by a dangerous madman from outer space! And Radicks' badass level is much higher than yours!"

"Oh. That's not good. Someone should go get him back."

Bulimia put her hands on her hips and glared. "You have to do it, Broku! He's your son!"

"Aww, I don't wanna. How can I stop Radicks, anyway? You said his badassery is higher than mine."

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," said a gravelly voice. Everyone stared in surprise as a green-skinned figure with antennae emerged from the shadows.

"Gigolo!" cried Broku. "'Sup, man!"

"Get him out of here!" screeched Master Sushi. "I won't have that dirty male prostitute on my land! This island is only big enough for one pervert!"

"I told you, those days are behind me," growled Gigolo. "I'm a full time fighter now. I sensed a huge badass level threatening Earth. It seems that Broku and I will have to join forces against this new enemy. We can settle our personal differences later."

Broku perked up. "Hey Gigolo, do you want to play Call of Duty?"

"This isn't time for your stupid video games. A true warrior knows to act when he is needed. Now come, let's kill that alien bastard."

"Hey, Gigolo," Master Sushi said, "supposing I was green-curious, how much do you charge for your services?"

Gigolo made a disgusted face. "More than you could afford in a thousand lifetimes, honey."

Broku and Gigolo rose into the air.

"If I don't come back, tell Bit-chi that I love her," called Broku.

"I will, Broku," Bulimia promised, her hands clasped, her eyes shining with emotion.

"And tell her that I ate all the red bean buns so she needs to buy some more."

"What do I look like, your fucking secretary?" Bulimia snarled. "Just get out of here!"

The two warriors flew off into the wide blue sky.

"Hey Gigolo! Let's hold hands!"

"What? Why?"

"'Cos it'll be fun!"

"No! Not unless you have fifty dollars on you."

They disappeared into the distance.