Dragon Ball X
Ah, I'm finally back with the second volume of Dragon Ball X. It's been a while, that's for sure...Anyway, if you haven't read the first volume, you'd better read it before this, because otherwise it'd be like reading the second Harry Potter book before the first. You could do it, but it wouldn't make near as much sense, and you wouldn't enjoy it as much. So, if you haven't read it...go read it. It's on my profile.
Now, onto the details. As I've already said, this is Volume II: Guardians of Tranquility, rated T for violence and mild swearing. This takes place just over five years after the last volume ended, so I'll just do a quick age thing.
Blitzo/Makurin/Rhuna: 23
Kenta: 22
Arnika: 21
Ferris: 30
Zeang: 30
Since the Eternal Warriors used to have...you know...Eternal Life...they're actual ages probably don't matter too much. Still, Arasha would be 518 as of this chapter, if their actual ages were determined. Of course, when they were revived...the enchantments were banished, so they're normal again.
I can't really think of anything else to say, anything else important relating to the actual story will be revealed in the actual chapter. So...On with the chapter!
000
Terrence Dirk strode surreptitiously down the street, threading his way quickly across the city. Dirk walked with his head bowed, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, propping the clothing out so that the gun strapped to his waist didn't create a bulge.
On the man's head was a black bowler hat, covering his bald head, which was covered in scars. Dirk was broad in the shoulders, with large meaty hands and a muscular body. Stubble covered his chin, and his black eyes darted back and forth as he walked. There was a reason he tried to look so menacing; Dirk was professional burglar and a skilled hitman. In the criminal underworld, he was known by the name of Predator.
As he arrived at an intersection, Dirk stopped, glancing backwards and around him, performing a split-second evaluation of every other person he saw. The man leant against a streetlight, secretly flickering his eyes around in all directions, taking in everything in his field of view.
"Oh! I'm sorry!"
Dirk scowled as a woman bumped into him, but her tiny frame didn't even cause him to budge. The woman stumbled backwards, bouncing off Dirk's body. He turned his fierce eyes on her, and she squeaked in fright before hurrying off, quickly mingling in with the people flocking the pavement.
"Stupid bitch..." thought Dirk as he continued his surveillance.
Twenty minutes later, he was still standing there, but not once did he grow impatient. He'd done this several times before in his life, and waiting was worth the final result. Dirk looked at his watch; a solid gold hunk of metal that screamed of money. Dirk had stolen it from a rich investor he'd murdered three years before.
"11:29 pm..." he thought, and began counting down the seconds in his head. If the rumours were true, his wait would only last ten more seconds...
"Terrence Dirk, am I correct?"
Dirk smiled grimly as he heard the snide smooth voice, at the exact second that his watch hit 11:30. He turned to face the source, and was met with a short, extremely skinny man, dressed in a black trench coat. Like Dirk, he was bald, but didn't wear a hat, showing off his waxed head. The man was had several gold teeth, and had a thin black moustache. He looked like the kind of person that you wouldn't trust in a million years, and you would be right not to. He was trouble, no doubt about that.
"Mr Moar," grunted Dirk. "Perfectly on time."
"Oh please," said the short man, raising a finger and wagging it. His voice was smooth, and contained a certain element of charm. It sounded odd coming from someone like him. "I don't go by that name often. You can address me...as Silverhand."
Jasper Moar was also famous in the criminal world, though mostly by reputation. He was said to have pulled off over five hundred successful heists, without the authorities getting a whiff of his scent. His victims usually woke up to find every valuable thing in their house stripped, and a note somewhere in the house informing them of the Silverhand's catch. One particularly well-known case was when the owner awoke to find a message written on their forehead, in reverse. They didn't notice until they saw themselves in the mirror.
Silverhand extended his arm, and shook Dirk's hand. He had long spindly fingers, perfect for grabbing things. Dirk crushed them in his massive paw, but Silverhand showed no sign of discomfort.
"Come," he said, and began to walk down the street, which was fairly void of people by now. Dirk strode after him, falling into step a metre behind the tiny man.
"I must say, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Mr Dirk. I've been looking forward to working with you for a while now. Ever since that job you did last June, I've been absolutely dying to meet you...that was right here in Grandiose City, isn't that correct?"
Dirk sniffed. "Whatever you say, Silverhand. Do you have the information that we need?"
Silverhand didn't seem fussed by the bigger man's superior tone. He just nodded and carried on walking briskly.
"Indeed I do. I've committed the entire security system to memory."
Dirk remembered hearing that Silverhand had an eidetic memory, but that wasn't the type of thing he was interested in. As long as the obnoxious little man could get them in and out, that was all that mattered.
"So, Mr Dirk. You remember the plan that we discussed on the phone, I presume?"
Dirk nodded. "Yep. You break the security. I do the muscle work and carry the loot. Simple as that."
Silverhand tutted. "Now, now, Mr Dirk. There's so much more to it than that. In fact, if it were anyone else's house, I'd demand a much higher share than a mere 50%. After all, I'm doing the hard part. Of course, as it is...even 20% would guarantee a comfortable life in luxury."
Dirk nodded jerkily. "Yes...tell me, Silverhand. What do you know about these people? I've learnt from years of experience that people aren't usually as rich as the rumours say."
Silverhand had to actually stop walking to laugh. It was a revolting retching noise, and Dirk twisted his face as he listened to it.
"Oh, my dear man. You're exactly right; in most cases, people aren't as rich as people say...but in this case, the rumours are spot on."
Dirk drew in his breath. "You mean..."
Silverhand looked at him, a spark of humour in his eye. "Yes. Arnika Hale is the richest woman on Haven. She's got it all; money from her inventions, money from brilliant investments...they say that she's a genius on the Stock Market, you know. Not to mention her technological advancements. You know of her father, Donald Hale? Looks like most of his brains were passed down. She's surpassed the M-Cube, that's certain. Most of the technology created after the Crimson Archfiend was masterminded by the girl...and she's only 21 years of age...She got married recently too, isn't that nice?"
Dirk raised an eyebrow. "There's a guy?"
"Indeed, and it's not surprising. I've seen her in the papers a lot; she's quite a looker. Still, she's brushed aside every lustful teenager to ever go near her and got engaged to a gentleman named Blitzo. I know, it's an unusual name, isn't it? Doesn't have a last one, either. He's taken Hale as his surname."
"And this Blitzo...will he be there tonight?"
Silverhand smiled eerily, the street lights reflecting off his gold teeth. "He will. And that, my friend, is why I requested for you to accompany me tonight. My contacts tell me that you're quite the fighter. So is this Blitzo. Do the math..."
Dirk cracked his knuckles, jaw set. "He'll regret fighting me. I've never lost."
Silverhand frowned. "So I've heard...You punched your father into hospital at age twelve, as I recall. Well, this is no ordinary opponent, I'm afraid. I've heard rumours; this Blitzo's unnaturally strong, they say. Beyond normal strength. Beyond any level of strength Havienly possible..."
Dirk spat. "Yeah, right," he scoffed, and laughed gruffly, cracking his knuckles to emphasis his point. "I'll beat the turd right out of his arse if he tries anything apart from standing in the corner or sleeping."
Silverhand smiled mysteriously; it looked strange on his snivelly rat-like face. "They also say that he was involved in the defeat of the Crimson Archfiend."
Dirk stopped laughing immediately, the cruel humour in his face replaced by shock.
The Crimson Archfiend - that supernatural fiend that had appeared about almost six years ago. Dirk remembered the time well. Everybody – everybody – had lived in complete fear, terrified that the Shadow would appear, leaving no survivors. No one knew what it wanted or where it had come from, only that it was the closest thing to complete extinction the Haviens had ever faced. Virtually every person on the planet had been killed, before being mysteriously brought back to life.
As for the Crimson Archfiend...no one quite knew what had happened to it, but it had never appeared again. The general consensus was that it had been killed by an even greater power, although no one knew just who it was, or even if it was natural. A few people even believed that it had been a Kai.
The surprise of Silverhand's statement slowly wore off, and Dirk was naturally sceptical.
"What, are you serious?" joked the criminal, but he still felt uneasy. "Who believes that?"
"Quite a few people," answered Silverhand matter-of-factly. "Personally, I do not...it's just yet another possibility as to who this Blitzo really is. He's completely unknown; his past is a mystery, and no one knows anything about him apart from that he's supposedly a fighting genius."
"Whatever," said Dirk, and gave Silverhand a little shove in the back. "Let's just get on with this."
They continued on through the city, until at 11:56 exactly, they arrived.
Surprisingly, the house wasn't that big, for someone so rich. It was two storeys, and though it was extremely large, it wasn't exactly a mansion. It did, however, have a giant steel fence around the outside, with a fierce-looking gate out the front. After walking through the gate, one would find themself in a small front garden, with hedges around the outside, and a pebble-lined path running through.
"A nice place, don't you think?" commented Silverhand. "Arnika Hale and that Blitzo brute moved in a few months ago."
Dirk and Silverhand sidled up to the front gate, and the smaller man gazed hungrily through the bars. They were locked electronically, but Dirk frowned as he looked around. There wasn't a single camera in sight.
"Hurry up," he grunted to Silverhand, who pulled a laptop from within his trench coat.
"Yes, yes," said the master thief, and expertly hacked into the mansion's security systems using the laptop. Dirk watched in confusion and reverence as Silverhand worked his way through the various traps the building had.
"What have we got?" asked Dirk, and Silverhand laughed, that same disgusting wheezing as before.
"Crap all," he said. "This is shameful; a child could disarm these. I'm insulted."
He continued working, and the minutes passed by. Suddenly, the computer beeped, and Silverhand frowned.
"That's new..."
"What is it?" demanded Dirk, glancing at the screen. It had a small red box: Access Denied. "What's that?
"This is quite phenomenal," murmured Silverhand, and he began to type rapidly, inputting several commands into the computer. "I'm onto the last little bit, but it's a doozey. These gates are set on a tripwire; if we try and climb or open them, they'll not only set off an alarm, it'll give us electric shocks powerful enough to knock out a horse. It won't kill us, but it'll be painful, and we'll definitely be caught. That wasn't on the security plan..."
"So?" said Dirk. "Just disarm it's like the others."
"That's the thing," replied Silverhand. "It's got a firewall stronger than anything I've ever seen. It'll take me months to crack this thing."
Dirk swore. "You're screwing with me, aren't you? I thought that you could break any security."
"I'll try and get in, but it's a slim chance, I'm afraid."
For the next forty minutes, Silverhand worked feverishly, throwing everything he had at the gates, but nothing worked. Just when Dirk was about to smash the little man's head in, he gave a cry of surprise, and the gate swung slowly open, the giant grates clanging to a halt.
"What just happened?" asked Dirk, suspicious.
"I-I don't know..." stammered Silverhand. "I tried a backdoor that I thought wouldn't work in a million years, and it just gave me access..."
"Great," said Dirk. "Is everything down?"
Silverhand nodded, but didn't move.
"What?"
"It's just...something's not right here," pondered Silverhand, scratching his bare scalp. "Nothing I tried even put a dent in that firewall, but a pathetic final attempt suddenly lets me in?"
"So? The gates are open, there's no more security. What are you waiting for, you idiot?"
"That's just not how it works!" cried Silverhand. "This isn't normal! First of all, these gates weren't on the security plan. They've been added after the girl moved in."
"Well, that's hardly surprising, is it?" growled Dirk. "You said that she's some techno whiz, not to mention she's rich. Of course she's gonna install better security!"
Silverhand shook his head. "That's exactly the point...If she was going to install this, then I'd expect it to be virtually flawless. As soon as I saw that this was here, I instantly knew that the chances of us pulling off this heist had gone down to about a million to one! But now...it just let me in! That's not normal!"
"What are you afraid of?" snided Dirk. "It's just some woman; she won't be able to hurt us. Come on, let's go in, damn it."
Silverhand hesitated. The main reason he had survived so long in this business was because he knew when to call it quits.
But then, the thought of all the money that the house would contain filled his head, and drove every thought of precaution from his head. Against his better judgement, he followed Dirk in.
Together they wound down the garden path, arriving at the front door. Dirk looked at his watch: 1:13. Sneering, he pulled a crowbar from his jacket, and prepared to break open the door.
"Don't use such crude methods," snapped Silverhand, and pulled a small metal object from his pocket. A key.
"Where did you get that?" breathed Dirk in admiration. He had to admit it; Silverhand came prepared.
"An acquaintance of mine did some work here last year," said Silverhand smugly. "He was sure to take a cast of the lock system, and sold it to me. It wasn't cheap, I can tell you, and it took a lot of convincing. Of course, the money that we make here will easily cover the cost of this key."
And with a flourish, he inserted it into the door. It turned easily and the door unlocked with a small click.
Dirk grabbed the handle and twisted it, swinging open the door. Despite his size, the man was as stealthy as a cat. Not only that, he had trained his eyes to see in the dark. Silverhand was right behind him.
They were in a wide hallway, with entrances to rooms on either side. In front of them, the hallway opened up into a sort of antechamber. In the middle of the open space was a grand staircase leading to the upper floor. The hand rests were made of what looked like pure gold, and a lush red carpet covered the ground.
Valuables were everywhere. Famous paintings hung from the walls, in gold frames, and there were a few tables lining the walls, holding things like original manuscripts and priceless ancient manuscripts.
"My God..." breathed Dirk. "It's a goldmine!"
"Ok," whispered Silverhand. "You have the bags?"
Dirk nodded, and pulled a roll of black plastic bags from a pocket on his jacket. The roll held a hundred bags, although as he surveyed the hall, Dirk seriously began to doubt that even that large number would be enough.
"Put the plan into action," ordered Silverhand. "We'll start putting the loot in the bags, then you go get the truck and we'll load them in. Let's get to work. You start on this stuff, and I'll go down to the basement; most of the money's stored down there, but I'll have to break the lock on the door."
Dirk nodded, and tore off a bag from the roll. Unfolding it, he began taking the artefacts off the wall and shoving them in the bag.
"Be careful with that stuff," scolded Silverhand as he disappeared through a door, walking down the stairs to the basement door. It was solid steel, with a computerised lock on the hinges. It would take at least an hour to crack. Tongue between his teeth, he pulled his laptop back out, and began running some more hacking software.
Back on the ground floor, Dirk was busy stuffing every object he could get his hands on into bags. Within minutes he had five bulky sacks full of valuable loot, and he'd only just started.
The big man slipped out of the hallway into a room on the right. Straining, he gazed the room. It was obviously some sort of library; a massive bookshelf was built into the far wall, and it was literally crammed with books. Not a single space on the wall was devoid of literature.
The rest of the room was largely empty. Like the hallway outside, the carpet was thick and red, and there was a dark green armchair in the far corner, next to the bookshelf wall. It looked expensive, not to mention comfortable. There was a small table next to the armchair, with a small lamp on it.
Unlike the rest of the house, the room had near to no valuables in it. Except for...
"My God..." whispered Dirk, and his eyes widened as far as they'd go. His eyes were fixed on the only other piece of furniture in the room; a small table against the wall. It was completely bare, with the exception of a small mango-sized orange orb in the exact centre of the tabletop. It had six yellow stars on it, twinkling in the darkness of the room.
Dirk moved slowly across the room towards the orb, still unable to believe his eyes. He knew what the orange sphere was, but until now he had no idea if they actually existed or not.
A Dragon Ball.
There were seven of them, scattered and hidden across Haven, subjects of legend. It was said that if all seven were gathered, they would summon a Dragon of infinite power to grant any wish that the summoner asked.
Breathing heavily, Dirk jerkily extended his arm...to grab the ball, the claim it for himself. The Dragon Ball alone would be worth more than anything else in the house...
"That's not yours."
Dirk stopped dead, momentarily stunned. The voice had come from just on his right, from the apparently empty armchair...with a start, Dirk noticed a small dark shadow sitting in the chair. Against the dark green of the chair, he hadn't noticed it before.
With a small click, the lamp on the table flicked on, casting a bright light into the room. Dirk grunted, and covered his eyes, shielding them from the glare. A few seconds later he recovered, and looked into the armchair.
There she was. Sitting in the chair, completely at ease with a stranger in her house, was a young woman. She had amazingly smooth dark brown hair, which went down just past her shoulders. Her eyes were a brilliant green, framed perfectly above her small nose. The woman wore no make-up, but she had no need; her skin was as smooth as could be. She had no need for cosmetics. She was stunning enough without it.
Dirk knew it had to be Arnika Hale; who else could it be? The thief was struck dumb as he stared at her, caught red-handed under her fierce gaze. So, this was the richest woman in the world...she certainly looked the part.
In Arnika's hands was clasped a book. Dirk glanced at the cover: "The Rise and Fall of the Crimson Archfiend". Dirk recognised it. He'd read it; a vast majority of people had. The book had been written shortly after the resurrection of the Haviens, a supposedly true tale of space warriors who had arrived on Haven, eventually defeating the Crimson Archfiend. Dirk himself didn't believe it was true, the entire thing was far-fetched. It was just one possibility of what could had happened.
With a start, Dirk remembered the name of the author; Kenta Hale, Arnika's brother. In fact, Arnika herself was a major character in the book. With a pang of unwanted fear, Dirk remembered what Silverhand had said of Blitzo, the girl's husband, and the strength he was supposed to possess.
"C-could the book be true?" he thought nervously, but cast the thought from his mind. It was ridiculous to think such things. A much better use of his time at the moment would be to find a way out of here.
"I see you're here to take some of my stuff," frowned Arnika. She stood up and strode across the room, placing the book in the only vacant slot on the wall shelf, before turning back to look at Dirk, leaning against the shelf behind her. "So, pal, what are you going to do now? You're hopelessly trapped, just so you know."
Dirk smirked at her. "Really? How do you figure that?" The man shifted his jacket, bringing the gun at his waist into view. Arnika glanced at it, disinterested.
"And you think that toy will save you?" she asked blandly.
Dirk was surprised. Arnika wasn't showing any sign of fear at all; in fact, she seemed almost amused.
"Let me tell you something, girl," he said, pulling the pistol out and nonchalantly pointing it in her direction. "The bullets in this gun are specially modified to detonate on contact. Don't make me use them on you."
Arnika raised an eyebrow, only serving to rattle Dirk's nerves even more. "Before you go any further in this heist, haven't you wondered...for a house of so much money, don't you find it has a strange lack of security? After all, shouldn't there be guards, an alarm, or something? You got in rather easily, didn't you?"
Dirk frowned. She had a point...Silverhand had even hesitated before coming in solely due to the lack of security involved. "Shut up."
"You've had it way to easy so far. Aren't you wondering why?"
Beads of sweat were running down Dirk's neck. This woman's confidence and lack of fear was disturbing. He didn't say anything.
"Fine, I'll tell you why. You got in...because I let you in."
"What?" Dirk was stunned, but still retained his silence. "What does she mean, she let us in?"
"It's a little thing I've been working on. You see, the security around this place isn't as lax as it seems. As soon as your friend tried disarming those traps, I knew instantly. Pinhead-sized cameras on the gate let me look at you. They were completely undetectable."
Arnika seemed pleased with herself. "I've been waiting for you to break most of the alarms. You sure kept me waiting, didn't you? Took your friend long enough. Luckily I had my book to keep me occupied. After you struggled so much with the gate, I decided to put you out of your misery and disarmed them myself."
"Y-you bitch!" gasped Dirk, completely freaking out. This had never happened to him before. This had never happened to anyone before.
Silverhand's hacking skills were legendary. His spyware was unbeatable. To have the technology to evade him was beyond the impossible...
Arnika gave a cocky smile. It suited her face perfectly; her elfish face looked even better with a smirk. "Oh, my good man, you have no idea...the worst is yet to come...There's one last trap that you failed to neutralise..."
Dirk snapped. Bringing up the gun, he tightened his finger on the trigger. "You're dead!"
There was a massive bang, sounding even louder in the enclosed room. Accompanying the gunshot was a flash, and a specially-modified exploding bullet shot from the end...
Arnika only smiled.
Dirk had shut his eyes in exasperation as he had fired, but something was wrong...then it hit him...
The bullet hadn't exploded.
Opening his eyes, Dirk found the scene exactly the same as before; Arnika stood confidently in front of the bookshelf, completely unharmed. There wasn't any sign of the detonation. Dirk's arm was still outstretched, the barrel of the gun still pointing at her.
Arnika's smug grin grew. "Nice try, buddy, but you'll have to do better than that. Because the last trap..."
"...is me."
Dirk gave a shout of surprise, and spun to his right, staring wildly in the direction of the new voice, which had come from nowhere. And as he saw what stood to his right, leaning against the wall in the corner, his jaw dropped.
There was a man there, his mouth set in an angry line, eyes flashing in annoyance. The man was dressed in an expensive looking nightrobe, though he looked like he would be infinitely more comfortable in a Martial Arts gi. Though he was slightly shorter than Dirk, his arms were even more muscular. And not only his arms; his entire body was rippling with muscles, giving off a menacing atmosphere of power.
His eyes were black, and sharp, and filled with boastful anger. He had a pointed nose, and ears that sat flat on his face. Like his eyes, his hair was also pitch black, although it was unlike any hair that Dirk had ever seen...
The fringe stood straight up in the air, forming a front "layer" of sorts, apart from two locks that hung down over his face. Behind the fringe, the rest of the flowed towards the sky, the ends pointing directly upwards. The second layer looked to form a sort of crown on top of his head, though didn't hold any sort of gel or wax. It was natural.
This, Dirk realised, was Blitzo.
He felt a sudden paralysing fear that blossomed deep inside his body, before swelling instantly to the surface, filling his head and rooting him to the stop.
Blitzo stared him down, and as Dirk watched in terror, slowly held out his hand, palm pointing upwards. Sitting on his hand was the bullet that Dirk had fired at Arnika.
"What the...!" screamed Dirk in his brain. "That's impossible!"
Blitzo smirked, and rolled the bullet around on his palm, before bringing it forward until it was clenched between his thumb and pointer. His eyes still fixed on Dirk, the man bent his thumb under the projectile.
"My turn," he growled, and flicked the bullet. It shot through the small space between them like a rocket, smashing into the side of the gun that Dirk was still pointing at Arnika.
It exploded.
Dirk screamed in pain as the bullet detonated right next to his hand, a sudden flare of light that flashed into his brain. The pistol was blown right out of his grasp, arcing across the room and bouncing along the ground. The metal was mangled; torn and twisted.
Meanwhile, Dirk staggered against the wall, clutching at his wrist with his left hand. His other hand was gruesomely burnt from the explosion, horribly disfigured. The skin was red raw, and chunks had been gouged right out of the flesh. At one spot, the bone was visible. Blood dripped slowly down his arm and onto the floor.
Blitzo stepped over to him, and now the smirk was gone, replaced by a cheerful smile.
"You know," he said, and Dirk stared at him, eyeballs rolling wildly in his head. "If you had of just broken in, and stolen my belongings, I would have just blown your hand apart as a lesson to you..."
Blitzo leaned in close, and the smile vanished. Now the only expression on his face was one of pure anger. Dirk saw his mouth move, and heard the words come out, as if from down the end of a distant tunnel.
"...but threatening my wife...was a bad idea."
000
Kenta Hale gave a content sigh as he leant back in his deck chair, feeling the tingles ripple through his body as he stretched. Flipping his sunglasses up into his spiky brown hair, the Havien looked over the balcony, taking in the fantastic beach across the road.
Kenta was sitting on his own at a table, under a massive striped umbrella. Although there were other smaller tables around him, there were eight other chairs around his, each empty. A waiter attended the other people at the café, but Kenta had waved him off for the moment.
It was about 9 in the morning, and the early morning sun blazed down on the beach, reflecting off the white sand. Kids played in the surf, throwing up sand and kicking around in the water. Kenta grinned as he saw them; the funnest part of his life was being a kid, without a care in the world.
"Look who it is," said a voice from behind Kenta. "We made it."
Kenta turned to face the owner of the voice, and his face lit up even more as he saw three people weaving their way through the tables towards his.
In the lead was a female, with medium-length black hair that curved around her head. She had pitch black eyes, with a bright fire in them, as well as a cocky grin. There was a gold wedding ring on the ring finger of her hand. It had been her who had spoken.
Behind her walked a second person - this one a man - who looked so similar to the woman that they could be siblings. Of course, Kenta knew they weren't; Rhuna and Makurin weren't related at all. In fact, they weren't even Havien. The two were Saiyans, a near-extinct alien race, and the greatest fighting race in the universe. Of course, their existence was a closely-kept secret.
Makurin had sharp-looking black hair, which was spiked sharply backwards and up. Like Rhuna, his eyes were also pure black. Finally, a second man brought up the rear. He was massive, at least two metres tall with short wiry blonde hair. He packed more muscle than the other two combined, and wore his trademark green singlet and baggy martial arts pants.
"Kenta!" beamed the massive man, and pulled Kenta out of his seat into a rough hug, before plopping his large frame into a seat on the other side of the table. Kenta laughed.
"Oh, Mataro," he said. "You'll never change, will you?"
Mataro shook his head cheerily, and let out a loud guffaw. "I haven't for the last five centuries, why should I now?"
By now, Rhuna and Makurin had sat down as well, and the waiter tittered over, a notepad at hand.
"Care for Morning Tea?" he asked. "A snack, perhaps. A slice of cake?"
Rhuna nodded thoughtfully. "Sure, why not?" She glanced around, before swiping off an abandoned menu from a nearby table, and ran her finger down the list. "Hmm...big selection...I'll tell you what, um..."
"Lawrence."
"Larry. I'll tell you what, Larry, this'll take a few minutes, so just get everybody else's and then come back to me. How's that sound, eh?"
Larry nodded politely. "Of course. And you, sir?"
Makurin grinned, and tapped his chin as he thought. "Are you fast at writing?"
Larry nodded, confused. Makurin winked at Kenta, who rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat, already embarrassed. He knew what was coming.
"Alrighty then. Could you get me...two jam tarts, a bowl of ice-cream –whatever flavour – six cookies, and a chocolate caramel slice...oh, and a cupcake too; I'm feeling peckish."
Larry stared in bewilderment, completely dumbfounded by the order. Who ate that much for a simple Morning Tea? Eyebrows raised, he copied the order down on his pad, and turned to Mataro, who - like Kenta - had turned red in embarrassment. Neither of them would ever get used to the unfeasible eating habits of the Saiyans.
"Uh, just a slice of chocolate cake for me, thanks," he muttered.
"Same here," said Kenta.
Larry turned back to Rhuna. "Have you decided yet, miss?"
Rhuna bit her lip, considering. "I think so...could I have three slices of cake, some caramel pudding, two lamingtons and a piece of pie, as well as a cup of coffee. Six sugars, if you don't mind."
Larry stared at her, before he was broken out of his stupor by Makurin clapping. "Chop-chop!" the Saiyan said sharply, and Larry snapped to attention, before hurrying back into the café. Rhuna smiled pleasantly and turned to the others.
"Good service," she complimented, before flashing a grin at Kenta. Her teeth were a bright white. "So, how's it going, Kenta? Any more books in the works?"
Kenta laughed. "Sort of...you got any old stories about Planet Vegeta? I could do with some ideas...and you know I love non-fiction."
The others laughed. Most of the world was convinced that The Rise and Fall of the Crimson Archfiend was pure fantasy, but of course, it was the exact opposite. The "space-warriors" in the story were in fact the Saiyans.
"So, when're Blitzo and Arnika coming, anyway?" asked Mataro. "I haven't seen them in nearly a month!"
Rhuna glanced at him. "Didn't I tell you?" she said. "They're at the hospital."
"What?" Mataro looked worried. "What happened?"
"Two men broke into their house last night. They got beaten up pretty badly."
Makurin waved a hand. "Huh. They deserved it."
"Makurin!" scolded Mataro. "How could you say something like that?"
"They broke into Blitzo's house, Mataro," said Makurin. "Of course they were gonna get beaten up."
"Yeah," nodded Rhuna. "I agree. Anyway, the police made Blitzo and Arnika go and visit the thieves. They should be here soon."
"Oh, it wasn't my fault those guys were so weak!" said a voice, and the group turned to see Blitzo himself walking towards their table. Arnika walked next to him, and punched her new husband playfully on the arm. "Havien's are so fragile."
Everybody laughed and exchanged greetings as the two newcomers sat down. Arnika frowned at Rhuna.
"Where's Ferris, anyway? I thought he was coming."
Rhuna shrugged. "He told me that he had something to do, and that he'd be along in a while...come to think of it, I can sense him coming now..."
And sure enough, a few seconds later a tall man strode onto the patio, sitting down next to Rhuna and pecking her on the cheek.
Ferris was tall and handsome, with shoulder-length brown hair. He had sharp blue eyes, and wore a black casual suit. On the man's finger was a ring identical to Rhuna's, and in his hands was a small bunch of flowers, which he passed to the Saiyan woman.
"Here you go, my sweet," he smirked, as Rhuna rolled her eyes and threw them over her shoulder. Still, she had a loving smile on her face.
"You know how much I hate flowers," she said, and Ferris laughed.
"Of course I do, but it's worth it every time. Hello, everybody, by the way."
Everyone nodded in greetings, Kenta and Blitzo both cacking themselves at the exchange. They all knew that Rhuna and Ferris' relationship went deep down into both of their hearts.
At that point Larry returned - accompanied by three of the cooks - and unloaded the massive orders onto the table. The waiter seemed startled by the new faces; still, he whipped out his notebook and took the orders of the newcomers, before he left again.
Makurin and Rhuna tucked in immediately, shovelling the food down at an alarming rate. In comparison, Kenta and Makurin took their time with their single slices of cake.
"Anyway," said Rhuna, between gulps. "How are the patients?"
Arnika laughed. "Still unconscious, I'm afraid. You really let 'em have it, didn't you, Blitzo?"
"You could say that."
"Still though," said Rhuna, winking at Mataro. "Did you really have to break that little guy's kneecaps like that? Not to mention cracking his laptop in half with his own skull!"
Blitzo waved a hand. "Meh...from what I've heard, he's been wanted for ages. The government should be thanking me," he joked.
Mataro shook his head exasperatedly.
"Besides," said Blitzo, staring accusingly at Rhuna. "You can't talk; what about that mugger that you beat up last year? You're in no position to chastise me for overdoing it."
Rhuna looked miffed. "I only hung him from a light post..."
"Which you then tore right out of the ground and hurled down the street like a javelin. The poor guy almost broke his neck!"
Rhuna glared at him. "Yeah, well...ah, shut the hell up!" The female Saiyan ducked her head down and shoved an entire piece of cake into her mouth, chewing violently. Blitzo leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. A smug grin covered his face.
"Moving on..." said Ferris, and Mataro nodded enthusiastically.
"What's everybody planning on doing today, anyway?" the massive man asked exuberantly.
"Well, I'm doing a book signing today, so my schedule's full," said Kenta, looking slightly mopey.
"As for me, I've planned a sparring session with Geani," said Ferris.
"What about you?" asked Makurin to Blitzo. "Gravity room?"
Blitzo nodded, but noticed Arnika winking at Rhuna. "What?"
"You guys are always training," said Arnika, flicking him playfully on the nose. "Take a break for a day, it'll do you good. You two should come with me and Rhuna, have a game of tennis."
"Tennis?" scoffed Makurin. "Somehow I don't think so."
"Oh, come on!" pleaded Rhuna. "It's just as fun as training, believe me. We could do a doubles match."
Blitzo frowned. "I guess...Don did mention that there were a few problems with the Gravity Chamber last time we saw him."
Makurin looked doubtful, but grudgingly nodded. Mataro laughed heartily.
"What I would give to see you play tennis," he boomed. "Too bad I can't come, I've got an audition today."
Ferris reached across the table and patted the Eternal Warrior on the back. "Good luck, my friend."
Mataro smiled. "Thanks, Ferris. Of course, with my devilish charm and dashing good looks, I probably won't need it."
Kenta and Blitzo burst out laughing again. "Yeah right," snickered Blitzo. "You have about as much charm as a dead goldfish."
000
"I still can't believe we actually convinced them to play," chirped Rhuna proudly, as she lined up next to Arnika, racquet in hand.
Across the court, standing awkwardly facing the two women, were Blitzo and Makurin. Like Rhuna and Arnika, they both clutched racquets.
"Are you sure about this?" called Blitzo. "I think we might be a little too strong for this kind of thing..."
Arnika rolled her eyes, and held up two modified tennis balls. While they looked like regular tennis balls on the outside, they each contained a sphere of specially made heavy steel. Arnika had invented the balls to accommodate for her and Rhuna's heightened power compared to regular Haviens, and each weighed almost half a tonne. Geani - a master swordsman and lifelong companion of Mataro, and who had mastered the art of forging and manipulating metal – had advised her on how to harden the steel, at the same time making it incredibly weighty.
"Don't you worry about that," she shouted back. "Let's start, alright? We'll play a three set match."
"Any idea what that means?" muttered Blitzo, and Makurin slowly nodded his head.
"Yeah. I saw a few tennis games on TV last year, so I sort of know how to play. Just do what me and the others do, alright? You'll catch on pretty quick."
Blitzo frowned, unsure. "I guess..."
Opposite him, Arnika bounced one of the balls up and down with her racquet. Like the balls, the racquets themselves were custom-made by Arnika to withstand incredible pressure and impact. Suddenly, she threw the ball above her head, and swung the racquet at it. With an odd popping noise, the ball thundered down the court past Makurin, who brought his own racquet around and smashed it back, shooting it back at an angle, so that it hurricaned past Rhuna. At the last second, she swung her racquet, and the ball flew back the way it had come again, towards Blitzo.
The Saiyan bit his lip as the tennis ball zoomed through the air, making a loud whistling noise from the speed it was travelling. Closing his eyes and hoping for the best, Blitzo swung his racquet...
000
"That is the dumbest game I've ever played!" complained Blitzo as he trudged back into the lobby of the tennis club. "How can you guys find that interesting?"
"Are you kidding?" giggled Arnika, as she put an arm around his shoulders, and pinched the Saiyan's cheek. "It's the funnest sport there is. You're just grumpy because you lost...big time!"
She broke away from him and strolled over to the counter, fishing her credit card from her purse to pay for the hire of the courts. Behind them, by the door, Rhuna and Makurin were bickering over whether the winning smash ace of the game should have been counted.
"It was out, I'm telling you!"
"Out? What a bunch of baloney!"
Blitzo grinned as he watched them. While Rhuna and Makurin tended to disagree over every little thing, they had been great friends their entire lives.
"Anyway," he said, turning back to his spouse, "We didn't lose by that much, you have to admit that."
Arnika gave him a sympathetic smile. "OK, you're right. You didn't do that bad for your first match, but you do have that speed and fast reflexes to make up for it..."
Blitzo shook his head in disbelief. "I still thought it was dumb. I need to find a real good sport...something to keep me interested for a while. Know any?"
Arnika pretended to think. "Hmm...I'll let you know if anything springs into mind..."
Exasperated, the Saiyan spread his arms and spun in a circle, sighing as he gazed at the walls. Suddenly, he stopped, his eye catching the noticeboard in the corner of the lobby. A cocky smile spread across his mouth.
"Something like...that," he said, pointing a powerful finger at a poster on the board. Arnika frowned as she tried to read the title from across the room, and even Rhuna and Makurin stopped arguing to see what he was pointing at.
"It's perfect," said Blitzo. "Behold, my friends...the World Martial Arts Tournament!"
000
And also behold my longest chapter yet! So, how'd you all like it? I hope you found all of the couples interesting...Rhuna and Ferris, Blitzo and Arnika...what fun, eh?
Funny thing, actually. I was originally planning on only having the robbery at the beginning add up to about 2000 words, but it ended up being about 4500! Whoopsie...oh well. Anyway, I feel that my writing has been getting more detailed and more interesting, as well as faster. This only took me about 3-4 nights to write.
And, as for the World Martial Arts Tournament...MWAHAHAHAHA! I love the tournament in the Buu Saga, it's one of the best segments of the entire show. I'm looking forward to writing the next few chapters...but just a word of warning...all might not be perfectly safe at the tournament...
See you all next time!
