Disclaimer: the idea and characters of Dragon Ball are owned by Akira Toriyama. This is a simple non-profit fan parody.
Chapter 37 - Siege without honour or humanity (part 2)
The Instruments' mobile operations base, 22:45 (21:45 Capital Time)
Private #045f6a used to be just a random artillery aide back in the Red Ribbon. He wasn't even one of the guys using tables and measuring the wind or whatever to aim the thing - he wasn't brainy enough for that. His main job was cleaning and oiling stuff, and mostly, lugging around the ammo from the spot where the crates got unpacked from their capsules to the spot where the shells got inserted into the piece. It paid okay and was certainly less risky than fighting on the front lines, though once he did end up having to shoot some bloke who had managed to reach their position in an attempt to sabotage them. He also got to use "wanna see my big cannon?" as a very clever pick up line, and that was about where the perks of the job ended. No real prospects of promotion unless he started studying those damned tables he really didn't understand, no real excitement in battle, no passion. Just clocking in and helping to blow the shit out of people way too far for him to see.
Then he'd gotten a chance to speak with someone from the Instruments, at the time still a secret organisation within the bowels of the Ribbon, and his life had changed. He was called Triangle, now. Like, apparently, some few hundred fellow conspirators, because there were only so many instruments in an orchestra. He had a secret life. He whispered things and met people in secret and they exchanged their own secret signs to recognise each other. When the time for the Instruments to spring their trap and take dominance had come, he'd been really excited. All of that had been just the beginning; now they would really change things around, resurrect their Maestro and have him lead them to victory, to conquering the world for the strong!
And now there he was, lugging around the ammo from the spot where the crates got unpacked from their capsules to the spot where the shells got inserted into the damn artillery piece. But hey, this time around, he had a purpose.
"Bring one more of those tracers!," shouted Triangle (this was a different soldier in the same team: it was quite an unfortunate pairing, and the higher ups had promised to sort the situation out at some point). "I can't find the right elevation."
"On it," replied Triangle, and he obeyed, grabbing the shell and dragging it on the cart. He knew they were firing at the castle, but without binoculars and low light visors he could hardly even see it. He hardly even saw anything, in fact. They might as well have been shooting at the night itself.
He'd managed to reach the cannon and the shell was half inside the chamber when he felt a gust of wind, and then a muffled, pained sound. He turned to see Triangle (the other) bent in half, his eyes seemingly popping out of his head in sheer pain.
"Oh, shit-"
He let go of the ammo. The punch sent him flying back, and it was like being kicked by a donkey felt like, or at least how he'd always imagined it would feel like. His jaw was probably broken and would look all weird forever, now, he thought in a haze as his body arced in the air and then fell back to the ground. No more ladies swooning over him and his pickup lines. Those had never worked, actually, but this would really seal the deal.
The ground welcomed him with a thud and a series of all new pains, this time in his shoulder and back. When he looked back at the artillery he saw someone - a young man wearing a gi - straight up ripping it apart with his bare hands. They'd been warned this could happen, but he'd never thought it true. Even when he heard the stories from the other soldiers who had fought, he always thought they were exaggerating as usual, to make themselves sound tougher. He'd had no reason to see any of this up close. He was in the back, loading shells.
What was it that they were supposed to do in cases like these? They had received orders just for this eventuality. Oh, right. Trying to look about as dead as he could, Triangle carefully slid his hand towards his helmet and pushed a button. The martial artist had just finished turning the piece into scrap, and was running away.
"Here's Triangle from artillery team 4," he said in the radio, still gasping, "they're here. The punchy guys."
Pilaf Castle, 22:46 (21:46 Capital Time)
The foot of Pilaf Castle was generally pretty exposed - the building had been erected in an almost deserted area, after all. But there was a corner where some more vegetation grew, a small oasis, which was also where the pipes of the castle burrowed underground to pump water directly from the aquifer for all its needs. Here, squatted among the bushes, avoiding detection from the occasional searchlight that swept the land, were hidden in wait the Crane school master and his two pupils.
"Tien, Chiaotzu, stay ready," whispered master Shen, "it should be at any time now."
"Do we even need to wait, master?," asked Tien. "Surely, we could defeat anyone who faced us. The Turtle master-"
"Is no match for me, you don't need to tell me," snarled back his teacher. "Still, the plan isn't a bad one. Remember we need to get the Dragon Balls for ourselves more than we need to beat up that old idiot. And it's better to play along until we know where they all are."
He pinched his moustache, thoughtful.
"We know we're supposed to steal three Dragon Balls. So either they're telling us the truth, and the other three are hidden somewhere else by the Red Ribbon and their allies, and we'll have to steal them later; or they're lying, and no one knows where they are; or they're lying, and they have them."
"That would be really bad," said Chiaotzu, worried.
"Don't be daft! That would be perfect," snapped back Shen. "It would mean as soon as we have stolen these three, we could simple force the location of the other four out of that slimy ptero. The real problem is if no one knows where they are; then we'll have to play this annoying game for a much longer-"
He was interrupted by a vibration from a small device they'd been given. The pattern was unmistakable - short, short, long.
"It's the signal," he shouted. "They've taken the bait. Let's go."
They dashed out of the vegetation and ran to the wall. Without a single pause, Tien let out a shriek and spun on his leg for a roundhouse kick that hit the wall. The concrete cracked and the stones it was holding together fell inwards; a large section of the wall collapsed, leaving open a hole large enough for two people to pass.
"Oh, I think the blue guy will not like that."
Shen, who already had one foot inside the castle, froze hearing that voice. When he turned around, he was seething with irritation already, because he could recognise it anywhere. That moronic, lecherous, incompetent and stupidly naive-
"Roshi." He stared at his old rival. "So it seems you weren't as stupid as that Piano thinks."
"We don't lack for fools, but good thing that it's not all we have." The turtle master stood pretty relaxed, his arms behind his back, still in the pose in which he'd landed after jumping from the battlements above. Next to him, Giran was slowly descending to touch the ground too, flapping his wings. "Subterfuge and trickery seems like the only thing you guys can do."
He took a fighting stance. His eyes started darting left and right, alternatively, between his three opponents. Giran opened his claws and growled, showing his fangs.
"But you didn't expect it would be three of us, I bet," said Shen, with a snarl. "And you still had to send one of yours to make it look like you fell for the diversion. Good enough for us!"
"Master," asked Tien, walking backwards while keeping his eyes fixed on Roshi, "go ahead. We'll hold them back for you."
"Absolutely not!," shouted the other. "I've waited for years for a chance to get this little personal satisfaction. I can finally show this old idiot who's truly Mutaito's strongest pupil."
"Oh, I didn't know people who turned their back on their masters at the first sign of danger got to call themselves pupils at all," replied Roshi, with a smile. He pumped up his body like he'd done at the Tenkaichi, to the point that his clothes ripped off and came undone. He emerged muscular, bristling with energy. Still, his confidence was only a mask, and it was easy to see. His pose was overly defensive; he backed up a little, trying to keep all his opponents within his own visual range. Meanwhile, silently, Tien and Chiaotzu kept fanning out on the sides of their master, forming an arc that slowly encircled their two opponents.
Tien was the first one to attack. With a shout, he fired a quick beam of energy from the tip of his fingers towards Roshi's side. The old man parried the blow with one hand, deflecting the beam onto the ground behind him, where it exploded, lifting a cloud of dust and leaving a large crater.
"Is this how you will prove your strength?," said Roshi, frowning. "By having your pupils gang up on me?"
"My pupils are also my strength, Roshi," replied Shen. "I have taught them how to win. How to be killers. Something your soft heart would never allow you too. Chiaotzu!"
The pupil - was he a boy? A child?, wondered Roshi, seeing his bizarre appearance - stretched his hands out, and fixated his eyes on Giran. The ptero jumped to the side, as if to dodge an attack, but nothing came. Instead, the little man's hands glowed slightly with an electric haze, and his eyes opened wide, without even batting an eyelid. Giran's run came to a stop.
"What... the hell... is this...?," he managed to mumble, still frozen with one leg in mid air, exactly in the middle of a step. He tried to move, oppose resistance to whatever force was keeping him in place. His arm budged slightly. Chiaotzu squinted and gritted his teeth a bit in effort, but he didn't let go. The paralysis technique held.
Master Shen shed his own vest, remaining bare chested. Similarly to his opponent, his body built up energy and muscle mass. He jumped with a somersault, ready to let a kick fall on Muten Roshi's head with a savage scream.
The Instruments' mobile operations base, 22:50 (21:50 Capital Time)
Violin stepped in the conference room with Baba in tow. Inside, everyone from the meeting before had left, and only Piano was left. He was sitting at the table, looking at a notebook full of his own writing, thoughtfully tapping his pen against his beak. When he noticed the two new arrivals, he smiled and gestured at them to come in.
"You wanted to ask me something?," said the witch, while Violin closed the door behind them and made sure it was locked, then stood guard to it. "What else, now?"
"I've been thinking," said Piano, turning around to look at her. "With all this chaos, I had not had the time to reflect much about what to ask the dragon once he shows up. But all considering, and with success so close, that is as key an element of my plans as anything else."
"Sir," intervened Violin, surprised. "Are we not supposed to bring back-"
"Of course we are!," Piano laughed. "Don't misunderstand me, Violin, I'm not suddenly changing my mind on such a crucial detail. My worry concerns the precise formulation of the wish."
"That sounds like selling the skin of a bear you haven't killed yet," replied Baba, scoffing.
"Sometimes you have to. We won't have much time to find a seller once the bear is in the bag," said the other. "See, I was thinking, if we only asked the dragon to bring the container into which our Maestro is sealed, what would he look like once it's opened? We know so little about the technique used to seal him in. Will time have passed for him, or not?"
"You're worried he might have gotten old?," asked Violin.
"Well, that would certainly not be ideal, isn't it?," replied Piano. "We do not know much about him. A normal person wouldn't survive that long. I know he's not a simple human, but what if he still has a finite lifespan? No, simply asking for the container is not safe, nor does it make sense. We have near unlimited power at our disposal, let us think bigger!"
He ripped a scrap of paper from his notebook with a sentence written on it and handed it to Baba. "What do you say, Lady Baba? Could you tell me if this is within the dragon's power?"
She quickly went over the wish. "I do not know anything of dragons," she said, "and I can't read the mind of some... magical creature that maybe does not even exist on this plane most of the time. But if you ask me, that sounds insane."
"I was asking you, but I hoped for a more... informed opinion," said the ptero, putting the scrap of paper in his pocket. "You either can't or won't help me, and I have no way of telling which it is. Very well, it does not matter. I will just have to ask the dragon himself. Apparently, from what Violin tells me, he can be quite talkative."
"Well, if you want an informed opinion, I do have one," grumbled the witch. She floated higher, raising to a height where she could stare at the ptero straight into his eyes, as he looked back quite bemused. Her voice, when she spoke, had an ominous tone to it, as you'd expect of an ancient crone speaking of things yet to be. "Why stick to this nonsense plan? I've seen you lead, and take command of these people. They're like angry wildcats, but somehow you did herd them in and lead them here. You're too smart to fall for this bullshit."
Piano's brow rose slightly. "Bullshit?"
"Whatever it is that you guys think you know about Piccolo," she replied. "Look, I don't know what kind of myth this little cult has built up throughout the centuries and I don't care. I never met Piccolo in person because I always liked my head on my shoulders, but I've heard from people who have - oh yes, I am that old. And I can tell you, Demon King Piccolo never cared about anyone or anything. He never had any ideals. All he had was a crowd of cutthroats and scum following him because no one else would have them, looking for a chance to get their fix of bloodshed. He killed without logic or reason. He had no plans and had no goals. So do the smart, selfish thing and just ask the Dragon Balls for something that benefits you. Power, immortality, I don't care. Anything would be better than bringing him back. Why leave everything in the hands of someone else who will not even be grateful to you? You can take it for yourself."
Baba ended her tirade with a voice that sounded close to cracking. Piano nodded and appeared thoughtful, but then, one second after the woman's spiel ended, he simply erupted in laughter. He came closer, looking at the witch with a sort of amused disgust.
"You really take me for such a fool, Lady Baba?," he said. "You're desperate. I still wonder what pushed you to help us at first besides money, you know? I truly believed for one moment you could have shared in my vision, received a mission like I have - but no matter. Let me tell you a story."
His voice lowered to a murmur, one that Violin couldn't hear.
"The day I received my mission, I was supposed to die," he said. "Commander Red had just taken over from his father. I was young, then, and quite stupid. I had been serving only for a short time, but already I could see the rot, the weakness, seeping in with Red's awful leadership, his cowardice and ineptitude. And at the time, the best plan I could come up with to change that was to kill myself."
"Oh, it was supposed to be a grand gesture, make no mistake. I would walk into the office of the Commander, after getting a regular appointment, and then pull out a hidden knife that I would hide in my boots, and hold it to my throat; and after I had finished listing all my grievances, and demanding that he considered the price he was paying for his weakness, I would slice my carotid and bleed out there, in front of his desk, on the carpet, my eyes staring into his until the very last second."
The ptero's beak creased up. "You see how foolish and naïve I could be. But that night, before I put my decision into action, I had a dream. And that dream told me of a far better way for me to accomplish what I desired. So, do you see why trying to sway me is pointless? I am already dead. My life was traded on that day; it now belongs to my Maestro. Had he not turned it around with his words, on that night, all I would have amounted to is a slightly pricier dry cleaning bill for our dear old Commander."
"You're mad," said Baba. "You will regret this. We will all suffer from your foolishness."
"Your attempts to scare me are quite pathetic, Lady Baba," replied Piano, going back to speaking out loud. "But rest assured, you will remain well alive, under my protection, regardless of your apparently disloyalty. Your gift is too precious to waste. I will make sure to tell the Maestro of your usefulness."
The witch scoffed. "You are too confident in your victory. People like you always fall at the last moment."
"Of course, overconfidence is a mistake," said the other. "But I feel like I am just the right amount of confident. See, my victory has been sealed; and it is about to walk in from that door, any moment now."
And as if on command, the room's door opened.
Pilaf Castle, 23:03 (22:03 Capital Time)
The fight had started hard enough, but for a few minutes, Muten Roshi had almost thought he could do it. His peer and long time rival, the Crane Master, wasn't stronger than him - even putting aside his many reasons for bias, that had always been a fact, one their own master Mutaito probably acknowledged, even though he would never be so blunt to say it outright. And now Roshi had had a chance to warm up and get back in shape during the last months, while Shen looked just as you'd expect an old celebrated master to - overly confident and cocky to the point of laxness, and his body inevitably betraying him now and then. The Elixir of Immortality they had drank only stopped their aging, which meant they were now both stuck for eternity with the occasional creaky joint, stiff backbone, and troublesome bowels they'd had when they got it. It still beat dying, but both of their bodies were now well past their prime, and did not suffer well a lack of exercise. So, for a short while, when he'd only exchanged blows with Shen, Roshi had indeed entertained the possibility of winning.
That had gone straight out of the window when Shen's other pupil had fully joined the fight. While the little one was still busy keeping Giran in his telekinetic stranglehold, the tall, bald boy with three eyes called Tien had eventually stopped simply harassing him now and then and had started exchanging blows on the regular, often coordinating attacks from two sides with his own master. Roshi had a suspicion that he had held back for a while out of respect for his own master, and he could see why. Once they were fighting side to side, there could be no doubt who was superior. Tien wasn't just a promising, well-trained youth at the peak of his condition; he probably was straight up more talented than Shen had ever been. His every motion was honed, precise, and yet stunningly powerful. Roshi thought of Goku - whom he had felt for a while had surpassed himself as well - and what a formidable fight this would have been if it could have been two on two, master versus master and pupil versus pupil. But alas, that was not to be, and instead it became very clearly destined to be a one sided massacre. Shen, he could beat. Tien, he could maybe keep at bay. Both at once would simply crush him in a matter of very little time.
Luckily, time was his friend, and Roshi would have been a fool to ignore that. The battle's victory conditions were not symmetric; his enemies needed to get into the castle undisturbed, whereas all he needed to do was to prevent them from doing so for long enough to get reinforcements. He took an evasive strategy. He would dodge attacks very quickly and immediately retreat, circling then his opponents from a distance to put himself between them and the castle. If they separated, he'd focus on the weakest one to harass him, then jump away before the other could join the brawl. Overall, he still took more damage than he could dish out and was tiring himself in the extreme, but he also gained a few more minutes, which was all he needed.
"Master Roshi!," shouted someone from the top of the battlements. "We're here!"
Two searchlights focused on the battlefield from above. There had been people put on watch at multiple spots in the perimeter after they'd guessed that the main attack was a diversion, but as bombs and shells kept falling, soldiers had still to spread between a number of tasks, and the need to save as much material as possible from the onslaught. It had taken only a handful of minutes for the ones who could genuinely help to gather in one place, but now they were here.
"Tien!," ordered Shen, launching a punch that was quickly deflected by Roshi, then guarding against his kick in response, "take those weaklings down!"
The young man acknowledged that and pointed his arm, letting energy build up along it and on the tip of his index finger, raised towards the top of the castle's walls.
"Stop that or dodge!," screamed Roshi, but without a need for his prompting, someone had already jumped from the top of the castle. A brilliant blue trail of shiny hair whipped in the air, and the silhouette of a woman screened the light. Major Cobalt, fully powered by her HEP II chip, landed in front of Tien, and her hand moved swiftly downward, then to the left, pushing Tien's own away suddenly. The beam bolted out of his finger, now aimed at nothing but the empty countryside. But he immediately moved to punch back in response, and Cobalt had only the last instant of energy available to withstand the blow while also jumping backwards. She ended up smacked quite hard against the stone walls and let out an audible yelp.
"Are you all right, lady?," asked Roshi, running to her help with Shen on his tail.
"Couple broken ribs," she said, "Don't bring them here!"
"Worry about yourself first, Roshi!," shouted Shen, managing to land a kick from behind. The Turtle master took a tumble, but it was obvious the blow wasn't serious, because he immediately jumped up without even losing momentum, having if anything escaped his opponent's range faster.
"Fire!," ordered someone from above, and a shower of bullets fell towards the ground in the area where Shen was, diverting his attention. He avoided most bullets and caught others. A few hit him and bounced off like they would have with a tank's armour, but he still let out some annoyed noises, and at one point closed his eyes.
"Tien!"
A second beam was ready to fire now. From the sides, having walked around the castle to get there from the ground, Major Ocra and Colonel Violet attacked in a pincher move, together with a few other HEP II powered soldiers. But before their blows hit, Tien simply fired his beam, still not fully charged. The explosion blew up part of the top of the battlements, and with it, a couple of the soldiers standing there. One of the searchlights came crashing to the ground in a shower of glass fragments. As the dust and rubble were still falling, the shockwaves from multiple clashes blew them away. Colonel Violet and three more soldiers had grabbed arms and legs of Tien, tackling him to the ground with their momentum. They leg locked him from four different corners, so they could exert as much leverage as possible with relatively little strength. Ocra ran up to them, and standing above Tien, he simply kicked his face up with a stiff motion. Tossed back, Tien's head hit the ground, his nose bleeding. His stare got angry, and he turned to look at the man standing above him, his mouth opening to breath now that his nostrils were full of blood.
"Got you," said Ocra, grabbing the grenade he'd unpinned a couple seconds before and pushing it hard straight into the fighter's mouth so that it would be stuck between his teeth. Then him, Violet and the others all jumped back.
Tien got back on his feet. He had little less than a second before the explosion, and didn't even know that himself, but in the end his reaction to the new danger was fast and decisive. He simply crushed the grenade with a bite and spat out the detonator, still fizzling helplessly. Then, separately, the powder, right after it.
"Didn't even know that was possible," said Ocra, heaving after the effort had left his body torn and pained. "Well, it was worth a try. Let's step back a bit."
There was now a circle of variously armed soldier surrounding the fight. A few more had HEP II chips installed and stood on the frontlines, ready to jump in at the best chance. Chiaotzu, still holding Giran, was now slightly panicking and looking helplessly at his master. A hail of bullets fired in his direction forced him to dodge frantically, and suddenly the ptero was free, which he announced with an enraged roar.
Shen looked around in frustration, gritting his teeth, while his two pupils ran to his side, forming a triangle back to back. The others cautiously surrounded them, weapons ready, including multiple explosive ones like grenade and rocket launchers, and master Roshi at the forefront, taking a battle stance.
"You're surrounded," he said. "The entire castle is alerted. You won't have an easy time getting past us."
"Don't act so cocky!," shouted Shen, "You're the only one who can put up half a fight among this whole lot, and you know it! Your friends using... whatever tricks your scientists made up are all worn out now, a glance is enough to tell! You're not winning this one."
"We're probably not," admitted the other, calmly, "but we're still going to slow you down long enough to hide the Dragon Balls. Or destroy them, if it comes to that. And remember, it only takes one blow. One small mistake. Do your students' lives matter to you less than the Dragon Balls? Why do you even want to bring back Piccolo?"
"I don't want to bring back Piccolo, you idiot!," screamed the Crane master in return. "I'm not a fool! I want to bring back and avenge my brother Tao Pai Pai, whom one of your pupils cowardly-"
"You don't want to get the Dragon Balls for them? But they trusted you with this mission?"
"They have to! They're on their last legs, they only have one, and until they gather all seven-"
"Shen, you cretin, they already have four!"
The two rivals stood there transfixed for a moment.
"I thought of that, who do you take me for?!," snapped back Shen, "But what do you think that-"
And a shadow passed over both of them. Not in the metaphorical sense; an actual shadow covered them, and the rest of the scene. It was not a bright night, but the stars were visible, and there was a half moon. Now, they'd gone away. It wasn't immediately noticeable, like blinking and having your eyes not adjust immediately to the light. But when they all looked above, it became clear enough that the sky had all but disappeared. All that they could see was a black void, a vault of perfect darkness.
"That's impossible," murmured Roshi.
"What? What's going on?," Shen looked above, then at everyone, confused.
Major Ocra spoke up with a strained voice, propping himself up against the wall to stand despite the pain his body was in. "The mission briefing said that upon summoning of the dragon, the sky would darken, like it did last year. Can anyone confirm these are not just normal clouds?"
"No, sir," replied a soldier, checking with binoculars. "The dimming seems to be uniform everywhere, clouds or not. And the cover should not be dense enough to cover the moon altogether."
"It's the worst case scenario, then," he replied. "Colonel Violet?"
"We retreat and regroup," she said. "Start evacuating the castle now."
"The dragon? What are you-" Shen looked around in confusion, then he saw it as everyone else did - a giant pillar of light striking like lightning in the distance, far off in the direction of the Instruments' camp, twisting and turning through the sky, and taking the shape of a gigantic, flying serpent.
"Damn it!"
He darted away, vaulting over the entire circle of soldiers surrounding him. His two pupils remained perplexed for a moment, as if uncertain whether they should follow him, or continue the fight.
"Let them go," said Roshi, "we have more important things to do." Tien and Chiaotzu exchanged a glance and a nod, then ran off in silence.
"Shouldn't you follow them?," asked Major Ocra.
"If they get there in time, they'll do us the favour of stopping Piccolo being summoned themselves," said Roshi. "I can't stop them anyway, so no reason to even try. But I doubt they will make it. We should leave. If we're confronted by Piccolo, we have no hope to fight him off here."
He stared at the distant light, the dragon floating off the ground. He felt a pang of despair and regret at the thought that he was right, and Goku had been right - they should have destroyed even just a single Dragon Ball while they had a chance. They'd been played, somehow. And they may as well all die before they ever learned how.
The Instruments' mobile operations base, 22:55 (21:55 Capital Time)
The room's door opened, and in stepped the blonde figure of Flute, holding a briefcase. Piano welcomed him with a smile.
"Do you have them?," he asked.
The other simply grinned, slammed the briefcase on the table, and made the lock click open. Lifting the top half revealed inside three Dragon Balls nestled in styrene foam to stop them from bouncing around. The suitcase itself, of course, provided the shielding that hid them from detection.
"I can't help but be simply amazed at your infiltration abilities," said the ptero, lifting one of the Balls with his claw and admiring it under the lamplight. "You will have to teach someone your secrets at some point."
"Hey, what are you doing here?," shouted Colonel Violet at the sight of one such helper opening the door to the supposedly very secret strategy meeting, then with an exasperated sigh she left the table of the discussion and went to show him out.
She noticed something was off as soon as she was close enough. The kitchen boy was cute, very cute. A familiar kind of cute, in fact. Blonde, beautiful blue eyes. Someone whom she used to fight side to side with, a fellow colonel until he'd gone traitor. Her hand, alarmed, immediately ran to the holster, and she was about to shout a warning when that soothing, deep gaze fixated on her.
"Let's not ruin this moment," he whispered. "Keep quiet. I just want to have a chat."
"Sure," she replied, instantly relaxing. "What do you want to talk about?"
"The Dragon Balls' location, the security around them, and how do I disable it. If you can't do it all yourself, don't worry, and just tell me who has the necessary codes."
"Some secrets just can't be taught," replied Flute, shrugging. "What can I say? I'm a natural, that's all there is to it."
Piano dragged out another suitcase, similar to Flute's and opened it to reveal the other four balls. Gathered together, the globes' inner light shone all the stronger, resonating with each other, and emitting a pulsed, low pitched hum. They were ready to work.
"We should do it outside," whispered Piano, reverent. "Violin, take Lady Baba away. Lock her in your quarters, and don't take your eyes off her until she's safely under key. Then come back to us."
"Yes, sir." The woman hesitated. "Sir, are you going to summon the dragon now?"
"Of course. There's no time to lose," he replied.
"I realise that. But given that the occasion is so important," she said, "and that we will welcome the Maestro back among us, shouldn't we at least have some ceremony? A picket to salute him."
"Hm. You are not wrong. He may take umbrage at not receiving the proper honours," agreed Piano. "Very well. Flute, go call a platoon for this special duty. Also any other officers you can find. I think they're all going to be in the strategy room at this point, that's not far."
"Understood, sir," Flute saluted quickly and left. So did Violin, basically dragging Baba away. The witch had now fallen into what looked like utter dismay, after her last desperate plea had fallen on deaf ears. She was barely summoning up enough strength to keep the crystal ball she was still perched up atop floating, and hobbled uncertainly when Violin pulled her by an arm.
Now alone, carefully, Piano gathered all the Balls into a single suitcase, closed it down again, and carried it outside. He could still feel the hum inside, now propagating through the metal of the case and his own arm. Once outside, he pushed a button next to the door of the small prefab building he was in; the entire thing vanished in a puff of smoke, and he was able to pocket the resulting capsule, after putting on the safety. He looked around, considering the spot where he was.
Quite a poor place, really, for such a historical moment. Just a barren patch of land, reduced to naked soil and dust by all the vehicles and soldiers that had walked on it during the last hours, muddied in a corner by those who left a nearby latrine. He called to a passing soldier who was rushing, weapon in hand, towards some unspecified objective, and told him to remove that. The soldier was puzzled but obeyed.
Piano considered the position of the artillery batteries where the attack by the castle's defenders had been confirmed. He expected them to divide their forces as a response to his obvious lure - which, in itself, accomplished the purpose of his giant bait and switch. All a massive distraction to keep them too busy to notice the real danger, and give Flute some leeway to execute his infiltration in full. Though given how quick and efficient he'd been, that might not even have been necessary. Now, however, that meant having someone that was potentially dangerous very close to where he would summon the dragon. That would become a very obvious and visible spot, very soon. Was there enough time for the fighter to reach him and stop him?
He decided to wait. He crouched down, and with a hand he traced a circle in the sand, then placed the Dragon Balls all around it in a regular hexagonal pattern, with one in the centre. It was not necessary in the least, of course; he just thought it was appropriate to add something that would make the ritual feel more proper. When he was finished, both Violin and Flute had reached him. Flute was followed by a troop of a few dozens soldiers, as well as Drum and Oboe, two fellow officers.
"We have enough for a simple picket," said the blonde man, pointing at the others behind him. "Tuba should also join us shortly."
"Very well," Piano smiled and nodded. "Flute, I'm sorry to ask you this too, right at this moment of greatness, but could you stand guard? My only worry is that the fighter who is attacking our artillery might notice and try to stop the summoning. If he made it before our Maestro is back with us-"
"Ah, yes, that could be an issue," the other muttered. "Sure, no problem. From the reports, it should be Yamcha attacking them. I will hold him off if he tries to attack you."
"Thank you, Flute. Then, we can begin."
Piano drew a deep breath. Around him, the soldiers were forming in parallel rows, standing on attention, with one officer at the head of each row. Violin stood next to him, arms crossed, like his own personal bodyguard. But the ptero hardly noticed; he looked only at the Dragon Balls, the power now about burst, right at his feet. He extended his arms, stretched out his hands, claws open to receive the light that emitted from the seven objects.
"O powerful dragon Shenlong," he spoke, with a jubilant voice, "come forth, and grant my wish!"
We're at the endgame now - at least for this mini-arc! Sorry for not posting this earlier, it actually was ready for a while now, but I wanted to keep it undisclosed until I was sure about making everything work with the following chapters (so I'm actually now somewhere in the middle of writing chapter 39). As a bit of historical detail - Piano's "origin story" was actually inspired to me by a real life episode, the suicide of Japanese writer Yukio Mishima. He didn't receive any supernatural reveals about Demon Kings waiting to be freed (probably a good thing for us all) and actually committed seppuku in front of a high military officer after trying to bring up a coup, mostly for very similar reasons to Piano's - he had felt that Japan had "gone soft" and wanted to promote a more militaristic, nationalistic policy. Then again, ritual suicide is in general a common form of protest throughout Japanese history, so the inspiration is pretty broad.
Anyway, thanks as always for reading and commenting! See you next time!
