An Unlikely Immortal.

Artie Shote was standing in the International Tournament arena. Artie was well known at the Martial Arts tournament, though rarely noticed. He was the announcer, compere and referee.

Although he hadn't officiated at the 1st tournament, he had been there as a spectator.

After that first competition, he became involved with the running of things. By the 7th Tournament he was announcing matches.

It was the final of the 23rd Tournament, and today he was officiating at a match between Goku and Piccolo Jr.

It was a serious fight that in the end levelled the arena, and despite being at the centre of several of the blasts, he survived seemingly without a scratch.

Strangely, it didn't occur to him that this was anything unusual, or that he'd survived similar incidents almost completely unscathed throughout his career at the Tournaments.

After the match, he was at a bar when someone asked him how he survived the fight in one piece.

He just shrugged and put it down to luck.

During his career, especially when the energy blasts started to become popular amongst the fighters, he had taken quite a few direct hits and had shrugged them off without apparently noticing that anything had happened.

Had he trained as a fighter, then he could have won quite a few tournaments. Unfortunately the idea of being immortal never struck him, so he had become an official instead.

The direct hits did have a slight effect however. They made him seem to age a minute amount at a time.

By the time he decided to retire, he appeared to be in his 50s, even though he was actually 774 years old.

It was in the months leading up to this decision that he realised some of what was happening.

He was sat at home with his feet up, quietly sipping a brandy and flipping through an old photograph album. He saw a few pictures taken before the Goku-Piccolo fight and laughing at the memories when it finally occurred that one very strong blast had hit him square in the chest. He sat there in a state of shock as other memories flooded back. Vicious and violent memories composed of flying masonry and flying fists. On one occasion a fighter had used a multiple blast technique that had melted flagstones and sent his opponent flying. One of the beams had hit him in the face and done nothing: not even singed an eyebrow. At the time he had thought it had missed, but now as he looked back he was now certain he'd taken a direct hit.

He decided that he needed answers to what was happening, and he wasn't going to find any at the Martial Art's Tournament. So he chose to retire and go on a quest to find the truth.

He spent 50 years with mountain monks, meditating and attempting to find enlightenment. After communing with nature atop several mountains, he wandered the deserts of the world, hoping that a warmer form of solitude and nature might provide some insight.

He travelled to distant stars in search of the great and the wise in the hope of understanding his own nature. After much searching and travelling an uncountable number of miles he came to the conclusion that it was just one of those inexplicable things.

Maybe he would find an answer one day.

But while there were still tropical beach bars, and the odd tournament to watch on TV, answers could wait.

He had all the time in the world.