Four hooded figures sat around a table as they commenced their weekly meeting. This is the Finances Council of the greatest group of deities in existence. The flames flickered in their wood burner, comforting them from the unbearable frigidity of Antarctica.
"What's on the agenda this week?" asked the woman sitting at the head of the black marble table.
"Let us discuss the revenue we've gained from the Abrahamic deities," said the man to her left.
"It's only right that they pay us. As long as that war is still going on in Gaza, we'll be stacking up from their body count."
"But isn't the goal of the Gotei 13 to promote peace, or at least safety for the world?" another person piped up.
The others glared at her. "Whoever said that?" asked the head man.
"OK, OK, maybe not that, but isn't it bad that we're profiting off of human's deaths?"
"A necessary evil, rookie," said the head woman. "Nations of the world profit off of wars. Why can't we? Besides, it's those profits that pays for their shelter, their uniforms, their—ahem-'healing festivals'. "
The rookie whispered to the person next to him. "Why did she clear her throat—"
"There are some things better left alone," his comrade answered.
Then a black butterfly in a bubble floated in the room and stopped in the middle of the table.
"What's with the bubble?" asked the head man.
"To protect it from the cold," answered the woman as she popped the bubble.
The butterfly began to speak in a young man's voice. "Hey now. This is Lieutenant Apollo Guzman of Division One. We're making that move again, guys. Hold your baby tight. I know I am."
"SILENCE your lips! They could be used for something else!" yelled a deeper man's voice in the background.
"Uh…yeah. Relocating in 10 seconds. Signing off!"
Then the butterfly turned into ash.
The Financial Sector officers put on their seat belts and looked at each other.
"…Don't these weekly relocations cut in on the budget, too?" asked the rookie.
"Yes. Don't remind me. They claim it keeps enemies off their tail, but they're just vacation spots."
"Those frivolous—"
But then they were blinded by a white light as everyone sped forward at sound-breaking speed to the next location.
T.O.S.S. Episode 1
On the French Riviera, the water was a baby blue, giving birth to relaxation and meditation. The morning sun shone brilliantly as seagulls flew between the palm trees and around the Monument to Queen Victoria in Cimiez.
The seagulls then flew through the azure sky towards an immense palace which had appeared three days ago. It was a Japanese-style castle, painted beige and white, with several floors in the main house and many smaller buildings. We'll go inside later just to see how amazing it is.
But first, let us get to know the exalted residents of this palace.
Good morning, Obie Soul Society.
"REDUCE!"
"Aaah!"
The shingles and seagulls fell from the rooftop.
"REDUCE ALL CREATION TO ASH! THIS FOOL DARES TO STEAL MY HARD LEMONADE?"
"I'm sorry, CC! AAAAAHHHHH!"
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The finest deities in existence, indeed.
Footsteps boomed throughout the palace as the Captain Commander chased the Fourth Division's Lieutenant down the stairs, cursing at him the entire time.
"Oh no!" said the Fourth Division Lieutenant. "Captain! Captain!"
"Your captain can't help you!" the Captain Commander bellowed as he grabbed on the lieutenant's robes.
The Captain Commander's name was Zeus Scott, a large bespectacled dark skinned man with a round handsome face, but a fierce demeanor. He is a pragmatic individual, who likes to describe everything as "spectacular", even people's deaths.
The Fourth Division's Lieutenant, also known as Stanley Patton, was just as big as CC, but his feminine features and high cheekbones gave away his fear.
"Nooo! Nooo!" Lieutenant Patton pleaded. "Pierce the spirit with the bitter cold!" A frigid wind shot from his hands and slapped Captain Scott in the face. This bought Patton enough time to run away.
"You little mo—"
The commotion was loud enough to rouse the Thirteenth Division's Captain, Tristan Davis from his bedroom as he yelled down the stairs. "Guys, can we not act like total buffoons? I'd like for people to actually be happy when they see a bunch of black people flying around in uniform this time."
"We ain't flyin' around!" Captain Scott yelled up to Davis. "And besides, there were no people in Antarctica."
Another door opened, and the Seventh Division's Captain Sam Brunson exited from it. "I know. That's because you scared all the tourists away," he quipped sleepily.
"Hush," said Scott.
Captain Brunson continued, "I mean I'd be scared if I saw a beautiful whale on fire, too."
"Hey, it's not my fault that whale wanted to bump into my castle. Free Willy my ass. I had to set him on fire. Now the Eskimos will be eating lightly toasted blubber for months."
"But Eskimos don't live in—"Captain Davis started, but Brunson signaled him to let it go.
"Damn it! I lost that little thief talking to you fools! Stanley! I'm gonna get you, you sneak!"
On the second floor of the Society's palace, there was a different steamy scene in development.
"Oooh, Mr. White, "moaned a female's voice. "You make me feel like a queen. Yo soy una reina."
"I love it when you speak Spanish to me. But Clinese, you are a queen, don't you ever forget that."
The Second Division's Captain Clinese Davis (no relation to the Thirteenth's Tristan Davis) gazed at him with those big sparkling eyes of her and purred, "Tell me something I don't know." She then pounced on him and proceeded to nibble on his ear.
Their gentle laughs, the kind that could only be produced by lovers added to the already amorous atmosphere, before it was broken by a piercing scream outside in the hallway.
"What was that?" asked Mr. White.
"Oh, just another morning," C. Davis assured, before resuming the nibbling on White's ear.
The chase between Scott and Patton continued throughout the morning, and was even brought out to the front lawn where the Eleventh Division's Lieutenant Estelle Black was startled out of her sunbathing session and knocked off her chair. When she realized who the cause of the commotion was, she proceeded to stand on her tippy toes and pucker her lips, hoping one of them would stop to greet her with a morning kiss.
Lieutenant Patton stopped dead in his tracks and embraced her. "Hey, babes," he said, kissing her on the cheek. There was a second of peace. Then Patton felt a tap on his shoulder, saw the Captain Commander was right behind him, and he proceeded to scream and run away again.
The chase went on around the perimeter of the palace for a few more minutes until—
"Goddammit," panted Scott. "I can't….I just can't." He then pulled out his Droid and dialed a number. "Captain Harris," he managed to say. "Get down here, your lieutenant's acting up."
A couple seconds later, a tall woman with short hair and glasses walked through the front door. Her name was Neytiri Harris, the Captain of the Fourth Division.
"What's up?" she asked.
Scott placed his hands on his hips and said, "Your lieutenant stole two bottles of my Mike's Hard Lemonade out my fridgidaire."
Harris frowned, "Wait, it's 10:15 in the morning. Why do you care about your alcohol?"
"That's not the point!"
"'Ey!" a female voice yelled from above. When Patton and Harris saw who it was, they decided to take their conversation someplace else. The others looked up to see the Eleventh Division's Captain Diana Cassel on her balcony. "Keep it down, bitches. I partied with Mr. Young last night and my head hurts. I can always take you to him if you need more alcohol, Zeus. So calm that down."
"Sorry," the offenders said in unison.
"OK, cool. Deuces." Captain Cassel almost went back to bed, but then she remembered something. "Estelle!"
Lieutenant Black looked up. "Yeah?"
"Ain't you supposed to be studying for your Kido test?"
"I was, but then they interrupted me with their chase."
"All right, come inside then."
Black poked her bottom lip out.
"Girl, now," said Cassel.
Black knew what was good for her, so she went back inside.
At that moment, Captain Harris and Lieutenant Patton were just finishing up their conversation. "So the next time you want some alcohol, what do you do?"
Patton sighed, "I'll go to Captain Carreras' fridge 'cuz he doesn't care."
"Atta boy."
"Say, where is he anyway?"
On a distant beach, the Eighth Division's Captain Monsantos Carreras rested on the white sand, with a notepad in one hand and a small smoking pipe in the other. His brown fedora was cocked to the side on his head and a black blazer with a maroon graphic design was draped around his uniform.
"Captain! Captain!" said a scolding female's voice.
He opened his eyes to see a short woman with a stern look on her face, it was his lieutenant Denise Battle. She grew tired of finding him in random places, and felt he didn't take himself serious enough.
"Hey chica," he greeted drowsily.
"Yeah, I got your chica," she sneered. "I've been looking for you all day. You've got something important to do."
"Ah, that can wait, Lieutenant Battle. What a great last name," said Carreras as he got up to look at the water. "Right now I wanna write a new incantation. The current one for my Bankai is too long."
"No, this is urgent. It can't wait."
"Lieutenant Battle, we are no longer in the frigid prison that was Antarctica. We are in the balmy and breathtaking French Riviera, the Cote d'Azur!" he said as he took his lieutenant into his arms and started to dance with her. "Don't be so uptight. Let your spirit roam free, away from the confines of mind-numbing duty," advised Captain Carreras as he held Battle tightly to his chest, much to her demise.
There was a moment of silence, then Battle announced, "Captain Buckle needs you to help her with a dissection."
"Oh shit!" exclaimed Carreras as he dropped Battle. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Immediately he teleported over to the Twelfth Division's laboratory.
Later that day, the Sixth Division's Captain Duke Brown was looking through some paperwork in his office he received from the Finance Sector. One of the memorandums read as follows:
Captain Duke Brown of the Sixth Division:
Before we get down to business, we would like to congratulate you on your recent promotion to the Captain position. We feel your extensive knowledge will be an amazing asset to the Obie Soul Society.
Now that we have gotten formalities out of the way, we would like to inform you on how you can help us out.
Due to extenuating circumstancs, we are experiencing some financial constraints. Therefore we ask you to not use your cherry blossoms too much. We know how you people can get when it comes to your 'flossing'.
Thank you,
The Financial Sector of The Obie Soul Society
As he crumpled up the letter and tossed it in the garbage, a gentle man's voice greeted him from the doorway.
"Yo."
Captain Brown turned around in his chair to see the Ninth Division's Captain Malik Tata waving to him.
"Hey Tata, what's up?"
"Nothing, just came back from town."
"You actually went in? How was it?"
"Ah, gorgeous. Never seen so many lovely existences in one area. We'll only be here for a couple more days, why waste it?"
"I feel you. Hey, um. Did you recently receive a letter from the Financial Sector?"
"Well…I received an envelope from them, but I didn't read it," answered Captain Tata as he shrugged.
"Why not?"
"Because most of what they send is bullshit. "
"I feel you on that. They just sent me a letter telling me not to use my cherry blossoms too much. Apparently it costs money or something."
"Yup, what'd I tell you? That's why I just read the envelopes—helps me keep the peace."
"Do you think we should tell CC about this? I mean, since when did our god-given powers cost money?"
Tata frowned. "Never. You're right, we should take this up with CC."
To be continued….