Chapter 1: Day in the Sun
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Dragonball or DragonBall Z. These great mangas are the exclusive property of Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. However, Rolo Yeung and Fein are my original characters.
Master Yeung continued to walk down the sidewalks of West City determined to make it to his destination. Along the way, memories of an episode that occurred long ago between himself, Fein, and his teacher King Choppoa haunted him.
It was the night of a crescent moon. In the central throne room of the holiest rite, two students kneeled before their most venerable sensei and mentor, the lion of martial arts, King Choppoa.
"Master, please teach me more," begged Yeung. "There is so much left for me learn. So many new plateaus to climb to."
"There is nothing left that this master can teach you my son," replied a slightly aged King Choppoa. "You have grown stronger in such a short period of tutelage than anyone thought possible. What I am doing now is for your own good."
"I do not understand master," replied Yeung. "If I have no guidance…."
"You Will Be Well Boy!" asserted Choppoa. "If you continue to train at the same level as my other students, you will never progress. Life has many lessons which you must learn. For the past six years I have instructed you in the art of Jujitsu and you have trained as though you care not whether you live or die. I fear that at this rate you might make the same mistake I made whilst I was in my prime."
"My detachment makes me strong!" shouted a very enraged Yeung. "My parents are dead! What is there for me out there? This temple is all I have!"
"My son," started Choppoa, "Your inability to have empathy may be your greatest strength but it will also prove to be your greatest weakness. What will you do when you have someone to protect and are unable to fear for that person's life? What will you do then?"
"Master…"
"Boy," continued Choppoa, "If you are ever to find yourself, you must go experience what the world has to offer you. If I should keep you here, you will never become a real man. Within these palace walls you will not learn this for yourself. I cannot teach you anymore."
Choppoa then turned to Fein who too was kneeling before him.
"Young Fein," spoke Choppoa to his older student, "Though you hold seniority over Rolo, the same must be said for you."
"Master…"
"You trouble me," continued Choppoa. "Though your movements are second to none, I fear that this spiritual journey for you will not be enough. You are remarkably gifted and yet you waste your talent by being lazy."
At this Fein looked down in shame.
"You continue to seek the easiest course in life as though it were the only one, and because of this you have missed out on valuable lessons, so for you I have a gift." The old martial arts king reached beneath his thrown and pulled out an aged something or other wrapped in silk. "Take this," implored Choppoa. "Inside is an ancient scroll writing containing the teachings of Daromon the wise. Daromon was one of only three students to survive King Piccolo's attack upon the fighting dojo of Mutaito. It is Daromon the wise from which all our monastery's teachings descend. Practice diligently and know always that the teachings of Kenpo are the greatest of all martial arts."
Fein looked upon the scroll in reverence until Choppoa's voice broke him from his revere.
"Now go forth both of you," ordered King Choppoa.
"Thank you Master," said Fein and Yeung in unison as they both kneeled before him one last time. The two of them got up and without a word left the monastery. Neither looked back as they walked out the front gate.
Lost in thought, Yeung pushed past two young girls who had been playing hop-scotch on the sidewalk. His short legs not carrying him very fast, he sped up his stride, and quickly made his way down the streets in a somber mood.
The boy slowed down as he reached his destination. He shook his head out of the clouds before approaching the front of the building of interest. Yeung looked up at the sign that hung above the front doors of the homely looking building. It read 'West City Karate Dojo.' Hanging around the entrance of the place was a group of young roughnecks, possibly students. The lot were leaning against the pane glass windows that showcased the countless trophies that the school had acquired over the years
"Hey!"
Yeah, what do you want?" the biggest of the group asked snidely.
"I heard your sensei was incredibly strong so I wanted to fight him," answered Yeung. At this, the whole group of hooligans broke into a fit of laughter.
"Say what!" asked another one disbelievingly. "You're joking right? You have some kinda death wish or something?"
"No, I'm quite serious," replied Yeung.
"Look pal," continued the biggest of the bunch, "I don't know if you've heard or not but our sensei trained under Mr. Satan. A pipsqueak like you isn't even worth his time."
"Alright," nodded Yeung, "How about giving me a test? Or is your sensei so weak he can't even answer my challenge?"
"Why you little.." started the big one. The rapscallion got ready to beat the shit out of Yeung but was held back by two of his fellow students.
"Wait senior Lang!" said one of the others. "Let's take this clown up on his offer."
The big one who was by now very pissed took a moment to think it over.
"Alright," he said finally, "Whatcha have in mind pipsqueak?"
"Give me a minute," replied Yeung as he took a moment to survey the area for a decent yet simple challenge. His eyes soon came upon a fairly thick caste iron barbell plate that was being used to prop the dojo door open.
"I believe this will do quite nicely," said Yeung matter-of-factly as he reached down and picked up the lone weight.
"So, what's it gonna be kid?"
Yeung smiled as an idea came to him. "Crush it."
"What?" asked the big one incredulously.
"If I can crush this, then you take me to see your master," declared Yeung.
The group of students smirked at one another. Finally, the group gave the "OK".
Yeung took the biscuit pan-sized weight into his hands and began to squeeze. The smiles of the karate students turned into looks of absolute apprehension as the massive weight folded in on itself in one seemingly effortless motion.
"Any questions?" Yeung implored sarcastically.
"Uhhh, no."
"Good," continued Yeung gesturing towards the door. "Your sensei please?"
"Sure." Replied the big guy nervously. "This way."
The three students led Yeung inside. On the floor mat in the central training facility of the dojo, the master was running the younger grunts through fighting drills. The sensei was a tall man of anywhere from six and a half to seven feet and had the build of a Mongol. One of the students escorting Rolo into the building walked up to the master and informed him of Rolo's challenge. The large man approached Rolo who was still standing with the other three students.
"Lang, continue instructing your inferiors for me," ordered the large sensei. "I want to have a word with this boy here…"
"So you accept my challenge then?" probed Yeung.
"Sure," spoke the sensei. "I heard about what you did out front, and now I want to try you out for myself. Does a street fight catch your fancy?"
"Does a one legged duck swim in a circle?" asked Yeung in the most sarcastic way imaginable.
"I'll take that as a 'yes.'
The two of them made their way to an alley just behind the studio. There were empty crates and garbage piled everywhere and the smell of rotting meat and pipe glue was so nauseous that Yeung began to wonder if his constitution would hold up.
'I never could understand how these city folk can live like this' Yeung thought to himself. He was suddenly broken from his trend of thought by the sensei's voice….
"Do you wanna make the rules or should I?"
"I'll leave that up to you," responded Yeung.
"Alright then hotshot!" continued the large man, "If you give up or pass out, you lose. Is that fair enough?"
"Fine by me," replied Yeung.
"OK then," said the sensei, "Does anyone have a stop watch?"
"I do sir," said one of the students.
"Great, then let's get started."
"Let's," coaxed Yeung.
The two fighters assumed their respective stances.
"You' re goin down!" bellowed the large man, making the first move. As the man closed the distance between them, Yeung readied himself to counterattack. Suddenly and at the last possible second, the giant-sized karate master lunged into the air and attempted to come down on Yeung's skull with a heel kick. To this, Yeung reached up and snagged the older chap's ankle before slinging him face first into the sidewalk. A wet popping sound vibrated along the walls as the man's body pushed a sizable impression at the site of impact.
'Hah! Amateur.' thought Yeung. The boy slung the brute's leg to the sidewalk and turned to leave.
"Ughh," moaned the downed martial artist. The large man made one attempt to stand. Yeung saw this and reacted quickly. He was not used to weaklings possessing the grit to have another go at him.
"Errr …, How dare you get up!" shouted Yeung as he vertically leaped high into the sky. "When idiots get knocked out by me they stay knocked out!"
Yeung jerked his entire body upside down in midair and with all the grace of a jungle cat as he stiffened his body for his all-time finishing move. "DIG A GRAVE AND MAKE IT SHALLOW YOU WORM! THIS ONE'S FOR KEEPS. 'AERIAL ATTACK!'"
His opponent barely had time to attain a sitting position as Yeung went into a free fall onto his downed adversary. A truly sickening sound could be heard throughout the alley as Yeung came crashing down into the large sensei with the force of a car wreck.
"Oh my God!" yelled one of the students. All those gathered looked on their master's limp body with shock and apprehension. "Somebody call a doctor quickly!"
Yeung paid little heed to the panicked remarks of the students as he made his way out of the alley.
"Hey You!"
Yeung turned around to see at least six of the dojo's students lined up side by side. Each of them had murder written on their faces as they rushed to arm themselves with whatever was within reach.
"If I was able the beat that buffoon so easily then what you think you stand a chance of beating me?" Yeung snidely asked as the angered students of the dojo moved to encircle him.
"You can't take us all on!" shouted one of the ticked fighters. "It doesn't matter how good you are!"
At this, Yeung simply brushed them off as he turned to leave.
"Err… Hey! I'm talking to you jackass!" shouted the big student he'd met before.
"And I'm ignoring you," responded Yeung smart-assedly.
"That's it! Let's nail this sucker's ass!" shouted the big one. The lot of them rushed Yeung at once.
What followed this rash course of action by the students could best be summed up in two words: 'Total annihilation.' Screams of agony could be heard as Yeung sent bodies flying to and fro. One unlucky soul landed in the garbage dumpster. Another had his body implanted in a brick wall. Still, another found himself impaled through a truck windshield. When it was over only Yeung was left standing. Completely unscaved, he continued his way out of the alley. On the way out, he passed another student bearing a puzzled look on his face.
"Hey dude!" cried Yeung motioning the curious karate student over to the alley. "When sleeping beauty there finally wakes up, tell him that his tope is hanging on the doorknob."
"Uh, sure," replied a now very frightened karate grunt.
Yeung ignored the roughneck as he waltzed down an adjoining street perpendicular to the back alley. He continued on until he came upon an intersection where a magazine stand was set up.
"Hello stranger," greeted the old man attending the stand. "Got a copy of the West City Herald here for 2 zennies!"
"Sure," answered Yeung. He paid for the paper and looked up at the old man. "You wouldn't happen to know where the park is would you?"
"Yeah buddy," answered the old rouge. "Just keep heading down this street here" motioned the elderly chap with his fingers "Then you just take a left and keep going straight for about three miles."
"Thanks," said Yeung as he turned to cross the street.
Yeung continues on for about half an hour until he reaches the city park. Shortly after entering, Yeung takes a seat on a nearby bench where he resigns himself to reading the newspaper. Unknown to Yeung, he is being watched by someone he knows very well.
"Oui! What's up?"
The voice is easily recognizable to Yeung as the voice of his longtime rival and sparring partner Fein.
"Fein! How are you doing?" greeted Yeung as he got up to shake the hand of his compadre. "It's been a while. You're looking well."
"Yes, yes it has my brother in arms," agreed Fein. Fein unlike Yeung was a tall, lanky boy of about six feet. His personality has always been that of an easy going bum. Like Yeung however, he is a proven warrior.
"What have you been up to lately?" asked Yeung who was eager to find out what his old comrade has been doing for the past eight months.
"I've been getting into trouble and a lot of it," answered Fein. "You of all people should know that."
"Ohhh…," exclaimed Yeung, "Why am I not surprised?" At this the two of them broke into a fit of laughter.
"Exactly what kind of trouble are we talking about here?" prodded Yeung. "You can tell me."
"Why? So you can tattle on me to Choppoa?" asked Fein in an oh-so-pouty tone.
"Bwa,ha,ha" chuckled Yeung. "Naw seriously dude. Have you seen any girls?"
"Uh…a few," answered Fein as he sat down beside his old friend.
"Really? What were they like?"
"Total whores. Most of em anyway," disclosed Fein with a grin. "How about you Yeung?"
"Me? I've been drifting from one job to another."
"No numb nuts!" corrected Fein, "I mean girls."
"Oh well, one I guess," replied Yeung.
"Just one! You've gotta turn on a little of that charm if you want to get to first base," advised Fein as he gave nuggies to his companion.
"Stop it already," pleaded Yeung as he fought his way out of a headlock that could strangle a tiger. "Seriously man, what have you done lately to further your training?"
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," repeated Fein. "I was gonna visit the local dojo in this burned out burg to see if I could mop the floor with em but they looked as though they had seen better days."
"Haha! Beat you to it," declared Yeung.
"You filthy little bastard," smirked Fein. "Couldn't you have saved something for me?"
"So, how about it?" asked Yeung.
"How bout what?" inquired a very puzzled Fein.
"Let's put our training to the test," suggested Yeung.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Hmmm…" mused Yeung in thought.
"Oh! I know. How's about a race?" offered the older teen.
"A race?" repeated Yeung. The idea of a race had definitely caught his ire. "To where?"
"There is a pub at the other end of the park called 'The Matchbox,'" Fein explained. "That will be our goal."
"What do I get if I win?"
"What? You need a prize?" asked Fein incredulously.
"A little incentive would be nice," said Yeung sarcastically.
"Fine! How does 50 zennies sound?"
"You got yourself a race," Yeung answered bluntly. The two shook on it.
"Alright, a beeline to the pub. You are so on!" The two boys got into a starting position situated between two lamp posts."
"Countdown," the two stated in unison, "One, two, three, GO!" The two of them shot off like a pair of wild-assed Indians. Of the two of them, Fein had always held the speed advantage although points for stamina would always go to Yeung. The two sped up a steep incline as they followed an animal trail into the woods. They moved like ghosts through the dense undergrowth that grew beneath the canopy overhead. The briars and thorn bushes were a constant source of irritation for the duo but they didn't allow for this to slow them down. This battle of man versus nature continued on until Yeung had had enough…
'This is baby-back BS! There has to be an easier way to keep up with him!' It was then that Yeung spied a low hanging branch. 'Wait one moment here! That gives me an idea.' Yeung snagged the limb and proceeded to leap from tree to tree. It wasn't long before he'd caught up with his senior.
"Dammit!" cursed Yeung, "This guy is still faster than me!"
Up front Fein was speeding on ahead of his challenger. Every now and then he would look back at his opponent and throw a smart-assed remark.
"Oh give me a break," complained the speedy warrior as he looked ahead to see an upcoming lake. It was then that Fein had an idea. Wait, this is a good thing.
Fein looked back at the still trailing Yeung. The boy in question was jumping down from a particularly tall elm only to be caught in the branches. "Hey Yeung!" shouted Fein. "I hope you've learned how to swim hehehehe!" Fein took a deep breath before diving into the water.
"Huh, no fair," gripped the wayward warrior landing on the lake shore.
'Now what? I can't swim' thought a now very frustrated Yeung. Trying to figure out his next move, he took a moment to look around. Suddenly his eyes came upon a dock and tied to it was a motor boat. 'Oh God, I can't pilot one. Think, think, think, think…. Ah shit! If retard wins, I'll never hear the end of it.'
Yeung looked at the water in disgust. He walked up to the water's edge and stuck his toes into the cool liquid before quickly pulling them back out as if out of fear. "Uh-uh, what the heck am I thinking?" Yeung asked himself shaking his head. He sighed deeply as he came to the realization that the only way he could stay in the race was to go around. The lake was simply too wide to jump across, even for him.
On the other side of the lake Fein came ashore. Looking around he disrobed and dried himself.
'Yeung thinks he's so great. Hmph! That guy can't even get over a little water. What a pussycat!'
Fein looked behind him to see his peer Yeung stranded on the opposing shoreline. At this Fein doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. 'This would be a great time to taunt the fool.'
"WHAT'S A MATTER YEUNG? IT'S JUST A LITTLE WATER! HA,HA,HA!"
On the other side of the lake, Yeung just stood there shaking with absolute rage. 'This clown is making fun of me. Me, Yeung, the greatest fighter to emerge from the monastery of the Holy Rite in over a generation.' This was just too much for him to bear.
"I can't deal with this," Yeung growled to himself. "Grrr…I have to catch up with him!" With that, Yeung started to sprint the long route round the lake.
Elsewhere, two powerful beings, one good, the other the embodiment of evil wound down after engaging in one of the fiercest battles in the history of the cosmos.
"All you've done is pump up your muscles!"chided the second, "But that won't get you anywhere if your opponent has any sort of speed!" The being in question, Cell, had just spent the last half hour leading two of the last remaining members of the Saiyan warrior race by the nose.
At this remark the other one, Trunks, the boy from the future, shot Cell a look that would be described as a mix of hatred and fear.
"You fool….," mouthed Cell in the most condescending manner imaginable, "Honestly it's a very simple concept to understand!"
"Of Course!" said Trunks aloud, "How could I be so stupid?" 'This ascended Saiyan form is too slow to defeat Cell… I'll have to warn the others not to use it anymore! That is…,I wish I could.'
"You can finish me off if you want," conceded Trunks, "I've failed."
"How gracious of you!" replied Cell sarcastically. "sigh What shall I do with you? Both you and Vegeta have disappointed me. I expected more from a pair of Super Saiyans. And where has Goku been? Hmm? Where has he been hiding?"
"For your information," started Trunks, "he's training to defeat you. And make no mistake; he will be the one to beat you! No contest!"
"No contest?" repeated Cell incredulously, "No contest! Ahhhh! A tournament!"
"What do you mean?" asked Trunks.
"A tournament will begin in ten days," disclosed the tyrant. "Consider yourself lucky. I'm giving you a second chance."
"What are you talking about?"
"You really don't know?" inquired the surprised green goony. "Long before we ever existed there was a competition on this planet called the Tenkaichi Budokai…. I'm going to revive it and prove once and for all that I have no equal. Bring me all the fighters you can! The more fighters you bring the more chances you'll have to survive! I have yet to decide on the location of the tournament, so keep your eyes peeled to the television for details."
"Wait…What's the purpose of this tournament?" inquired our lavender haired hero incredulously. "This has to be some sort of trick!"
"Oh! Must you really treat everything as though it's some sort of conspiracy?" Cell scolded. "There is no secret purpose. It will just be very entertaining! I have proven that I am unstoppable. None of your friends are any threat to me now! But there is one that I want to test my power against. Bring me Son Goku!"
Then without another word, Cell flew off to make the preparations for his shindig.
Yes, Son Goku. You will soon kneel before me.
Elsewhere, hundreds of miles away at the lake in West City Park, Yeung had finally made his way around to the other side of the lake. By this time however, Fein had already moved on and had won the race. Knowing he has lost, Yeung walked the rest of the way to the pub so as to rendezvous with his friend. That and he wanted time to sulk.
"He'll never let this down," murmured Yeung as he worked his way up a hill. "I can hear it all now! Dude! You got like totally left behind."
"Why? Why me? Why do I always get the short end of the stick? Please, tell me what I'm doing wrong!" Yeung shouted imploringly to no one in particular.
Yeung continued walking for another half-hour passing pedestrians who were either picnicking, playing ball, or just watching their kids play. You know…., stuff that people usually do when they visit the park.
Sometime in mid-afternoon, he exited the park heading in the direction of the bar. From here, he walked a couple of city blocks until entering the older, more run down parts of the city. Crime and poverty were rampant in these parts mostly because society stopped caring about these impoverished slums.
"Man, I'd love to meet their decorator," remarked Yeung glancing around at the state of the neighborhood in which he was traveling. "This crud hole looks like something out of National Geographic. If city hall can give itself a raise, then there should be no excuse why they can't wiz away a few zennie on this hellhole."
While Yeung continued to stroll(and complain), he failed to notice that someone had snuck up on him from one of the adjacent alleys. It was a large burly male with dark skin. In his left hand he held a claw hammer. Without hesitation, the big fellow lifted the hammer and brought it down squarely across the back of Yeung's head. He had hit Yeung so hard that the hammer's handle cracked in two near the head. The last thing that could be heard from Yeung before his face was bunted to the asphalt was a loud, pain-filled yelp.
"Hey guys!" shouted the big man. "I got em!"
On the large man's signal, at least fifteen degenerate thugs came scampering out of the alleys. Most of them sported Mohawk hairstyles decorated in various dyes and bird feathers and donned body armor that resembled something out of the Dark Ages. Each was armed with savage looking weaponry ranging from maces to chains to axes. Closing in for the kill, they surrounded Yeung's seemingly lifeless form.
"Let's chop him up," suggested one of the goons. "I'm sure we can get a lot of money on the black market for his organs."
"Good idea Rex," praised one of the others. "After that, let's sell what's left of his cadaver to the local university. I'm sure their Anatomy students would appreciate having something fresh to work with!"
Suddenly, and much to the street gangs' collective surprise, Yeung shot up from where he lay. He only had a moment to brush himself off before one of the thugs tried to decapitate him from behind. He ducked just in time to avoid a horizontal strike. He lashed out using a powerful sideways stomp that sent his assailant reeling through a nearby window seal.
"Attack!" bellowed the leader of the group. The men charged the boy from all sides. What followed could be best described as a dance. Using every fighting form he could remember from his days in the monastery, Yeung shattered the limbs, broke ribs, cracked skulls, and severed the spines of the men who assaulted him. When it was over, dead bodies were strewn about Yeung's feet and his face and hands were covered in blood.
"Heh, heh, amateurs," smirked Yeung The boy turned to deal with the last of the thugs.
It had now came down to just Yeung and the leader of the troop. As Yeung approached him, the big guy looked as though he were ready to empty his bowels and his bladder. In a last ditched attempt at self-preservation, the man actually got down on his hands and knees and began to beg for forgiveness. Sadly, all he could do was shudder. He didn't even have time to say 'please' before he was silenced by Yeung.
"There's no need to beg," commented Yeung. "If I let you go, you might do this to someone else. No, I'm gonna do the world a great favor by putting you down here and now!"
"No please!" was the last thing the Mohawked sadist could say before Yeung kicked his forehead in. The toe kick landed with enough force to bust his head open like a melon. Chunks of flesh and brains stained the ground pink surrounding the area of the killing and dark blood splattered the walls.
"So much for these 'Mad Max In Thunderdome rejects," muttered Yeung, turning away. "Now to catch up with Fein!" Yeung continued on as if nothing had happened.
Author's Note: I know it's boring so far but it's gonna get better. Much better. At least in this chapter you all got a chance to see that Yeung had a darkside. Please review!