The Worlds Martial Arts Tournament: Surprise
"All contestants for the
worlds martial arts tournament please report to the warm-up pavilion. The
preliminaries will get started with or without you." Projected the announcer
from the speakers.
'Guess I better hurry'
"And where are you from?"
asked an annoyingly cherry lady, holding a microphone to my face.
'Earth, you stupid blond'
"Ooookay, moving along," she
drawled leading her camera man over to another loser.
'Guess she didn't hear me'
"Please move on to the
locker rooms," whispered a short little man.
Finding a suitable locker I
slipped into my fighting gi. A red tankini top, blue flares held on by a chain,
black biker gloves and an orange bandana.
'I hope I can find him'
The warm-up pavilion was
filled with losers.
'Where is he?'
"Hahahaha, they would cheer
for a gold fish if you put a champion belt on it" laughed a familiar voice.
More voices joined with his.
'Bingo'
"I'll get a picture of the
real saiyaman then he'll be a laughing stock and Videl will be sure to like
me!"
'Oh no you won't you blond
haired freak'
Walking over I snatched the
camera from his hands and crushed it in mine.
"You'll have to pay for
that, you know! You've ruined everything!" cried the freak.
'Yeah, whatever.'
"Let the preliminaries
begin. 194 people have entered this year and there are only 16 spots. According
to rules the defending champion is automatically entered, that leaves fifteen
spots."
*sigh*
"This year we will be using
a punching machine to determine who gets the other 15 spots. Now to give us a
score to go by we have asked the defending champion to go first. Hercule will
you come on out please!" cheers erupted from the stadium and Hercule the
walking dumb-bell came out.
'Oh boy, what a loser'
But instead of punching the
machine he started posing. Cameras were taking pictures by the minute, until
all the sudden all the cameras blew up. A smile graced my lips as I looked over
at Picallo. Hercule made a lot of stupid noises and finally punched the
machine.
"Wow and a amazing score of
137," cried the announcer.
'Pathetic'
"Good luck to all you
fighters! I hope at least one of you can break a hundred so we can have a
decent match" with that dumb-bell left.
'Probably off to put some
salve on his hand'
Fighters went up and all got
really low scores when finally I noticed one of the gang.
"774!" cried the announcer
as she barley touched the machine.
They seemed to think there
was a problem so she had to go again.
'hahahaha'
Next came more of the gang.
"192" cried the announcer
looking astonished.
'Go guys'
"186 points!"
'You guys can do better then
this'
"210 points!" The crowd was
awed into silence.
'Oh no'
They switched the machine
and the prince came up for his turn.
"Stand aside!" he growled
and punched the machine blowing it apart.
'God help us' *sigh*
"Number 23" croaked the
announcer.
'That would be me'
I walked past the snickers
and catcalls and reached the machine. Deciding to hold back as the others had
done I pushed the machine with my index finger.
"512 points!!"
'Oh well, so much for going
easy'
I passed by the gang as I
headed back towards the crowd. I could feel their eyes boring into my back.
A few more people went up
and tried their best to break a hundred. No one did except for a black boy with
a white Mohawk. But I knew he would I could feel his power.
'I can't wait to fight you!'
"Alright then. The next 15
numbers I call are qualified to fight in the tournament. Number 17, 18, 19, 20,
21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 46, 53, 67, 84, 92, and 98. Every one else thank you for
trying and we hope to see you next time."
*I also hope to hear a lot
of reviews! So READ IT!