It's new years eve and I'm writing chapter Seven.
I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a sad thing. Oh well.
On with the story.
The junior division had concluded, with an exuberant Trunks as the winner. Vegeta looked down on him from where he and the other fighters had watched the match. His face seemed as cold as ever but inside he was beaming with pride. Down in the stands, Dr. Briefs glowed with pleasure, his voice hoarse from all the shouting he did during the competition.
The announcers' voice rang loudly over the intercom, proclaiming Trunks the World tournaments junior champion.
Dr. Briefs glanced at Vegeta out of the corner of his eyes. The glower on his face made him sigh, sadly and think to himself, he's a fighter like his father. He looked at his grandson once more. Oh Bulma you would be so proud of your son if you could only see him now.
"Would the fighters who will be competing in the actual competition please find your way into the building. They're getting ready to draw fights."
The unexpected call of the speakers jerked Dr. Briefs back to reality. With a smile he watched as his daughters friends quickly left to draw their lots.
"This is going to be an interesting fight. A very interesting fight." he chuckled beneath his breath.
"Wonderful. Looks like everybody made it," The monk said. He squinted over the rim of his glasses at the fighters; " just to be orderly lets do this in alphabetical order. That would mean that . Aiken you're up first."
A tall red head marched up to the monk. He smirked as he yanked the top ball off out of the jar. Tossing it to the monk he walked back over to his friends.
"Wonderful you drew number twelve," he looked down at his clipboard and read off a name," Miss. Danica you're next."
A petite brunette strolled over from beside Aiken and slowly drew her lot. The monks blushed at the sight of her well-endowed cleavage as she leaned into the jar.
"Ah shucks," she pouted," I drew number five."
"Yes, well," the monk cleared his throat, " Eighteen you're up."
Silently Eighteen walked up to front. Looking very bored she reached in and pulled out a ball, glanced at it and dropped it into the monks waiting hands.
"Eighteen is thirteen."
"Eugene . ten."
"Gohan . nine."
"Goku . fifteen."
"Hercule . lucky number fourteen."
"Since when is fourteen lucky," Krillin whispered under his breathe.
"Apparently since Hercule drew it," Goku whispered back.
A couple of the Z-fighters rolled their eyes at his response. Vegeta gruffly replied, "No shit Sherlock."
"Jewel . one."
"Killer . three."
"Krillin . two."
Krillin sauntered back to his companions and said loudly, "Well at least my first fight will be easy."
"Yeah easily lost, shorty," Jewel snickered.
"Just wait until you're eaten pavement," Krillin snorted, then as an after thought," Blondie."
The monk continued on as though nothing were happening.
"Mighty Mask."
Out of the corner the fighter stumbled, acting like he'd never walked on his own two legs before or was really drunk. He reeled about. His cape tangling about his feet as he neared the monks. Regaining his balance quickly, he grabbed his number and returned to his corner.
"Mighty Mask is number Four."
"Pi . oh I'm sorry I seemed to have missed one." He squinted over his glasses again," Would B please come forward and draw your number." There was no response," is B even here."
A few minutes passed. The other fighters milled about themselves, chatting. The monks up front were clearly getting impatient. The head monk tapped his pen on the edge of the clipboard.
"If he doesn't stop that soon," Vegeta grumbled after a bit," I'm going to take that pen and shove it up his ."
"Vegeta! Please. There are ladies present," Goku quickly interceded.
"Well I guess if B isn't going to show up we'll just have to pick a new fighter." The monk turned to his companions, " Who was the next strongest?"
"Patience is a virtue you would do well to learn, my bald headed friend," a surprisingly soft voice came out from a doorway. The cloaked figure of B soon followed it, chuckling gently, " You were taking so long I had to take a bathroom break."
The monk merely frowned, pointing to the jar of numbers. B strode quickly up to the front, drawing out his number with little show. He handed the monk his number and once again disappeared in to the doorway.
"What a rude man," the monk snorted," any way that puts B in the number eight slot. Piccolo you're up next."
Piccolo drew his number quickly and returned to the others.
"Piccolo is six."
"Sheridan . seven."
"Vegeta . eleven."
"Pity Kakkarot," Vegeta said as he returned," I had wanted to fight you right off the bat."
"Don't worry about it. You guys will get to fight in the third round." Krillin laughed," I just hope the ring will survive."
" And finally Videl is sixteen. If you will all meet here again in a half an hour the matches will begin. I want to personally wish you all good luck in your fights."
Out in the arena two monks were writing on a large black board as excited fans watched on.
"For those of you two far away to read the board," the announcers' voice came over the loud speakers," the numbers have been drawn and the fighters will follow accordingly."
"In match one we have Jewel and Krillin."
"Match two, Killer and Mighty Mask."
"Match three, Danica and Piccolo."
"Match four, Sheridan and B."
"Match five, Gohan and Eugene."
"Match six, Vegeta and Aiken."
"Match seven, Eighteen and the great Hercule."
The crowds shouted excitedly for a few moments. As they died down the announcer waited, slightly annoyed at being cut off.
"Last but not least in match eight we have Goku and Hercules daughter, Videl."
The crowd once again erupted. Joyfully they waited until the fight would begin. On edge to see who would be named this years World Greatest Marshal Artist, unknowing that more might be at stake then just reputations.
That would have to be the most boring chapter I have written.
I hope I didn't send you all to sleep. Please Review and tell me you managed to make it through.
P.S. Happy belated New years and a merry Christmas.
I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a sad thing. Oh well.
On with the story.
The junior division had concluded, with an exuberant Trunks as the winner. Vegeta looked down on him from where he and the other fighters had watched the match. His face seemed as cold as ever but inside he was beaming with pride. Down in the stands, Dr. Briefs glowed with pleasure, his voice hoarse from all the shouting he did during the competition.
The announcers' voice rang loudly over the intercom, proclaiming Trunks the World tournaments junior champion.
Dr. Briefs glanced at Vegeta out of the corner of his eyes. The glower on his face made him sigh, sadly and think to himself, he's a fighter like his father. He looked at his grandson once more. Oh Bulma you would be so proud of your son if you could only see him now.
"Would the fighters who will be competing in the actual competition please find your way into the building. They're getting ready to draw fights."
The unexpected call of the speakers jerked Dr. Briefs back to reality. With a smile he watched as his daughters friends quickly left to draw their lots.
"This is going to be an interesting fight. A very interesting fight." he chuckled beneath his breath.
"Wonderful. Looks like everybody made it," The monk said. He squinted over the rim of his glasses at the fighters; " just to be orderly lets do this in alphabetical order. That would mean that . Aiken you're up first."
A tall red head marched up to the monk. He smirked as he yanked the top ball off out of the jar. Tossing it to the monk he walked back over to his friends.
"Wonderful you drew number twelve," he looked down at his clipboard and read off a name," Miss. Danica you're next."
A petite brunette strolled over from beside Aiken and slowly drew her lot. The monks blushed at the sight of her well-endowed cleavage as she leaned into the jar.
"Ah shucks," she pouted," I drew number five."
"Yes, well," the monk cleared his throat, " Eighteen you're up."
Silently Eighteen walked up to front. Looking very bored she reached in and pulled out a ball, glanced at it and dropped it into the monks waiting hands.
"Eighteen is thirteen."
"Eugene . ten."
"Gohan . nine."
"Goku . fifteen."
"Hercule . lucky number fourteen."
"Since when is fourteen lucky," Krillin whispered under his breathe.
"Apparently since Hercule drew it," Goku whispered back.
A couple of the Z-fighters rolled their eyes at his response. Vegeta gruffly replied, "No shit Sherlock."
"Jewel . one."
"Killer . three."
"Krillin . two."
Krillin sauntered back to his companions and said loudly, "Well at least my first fight will be easy."
"Yeah easily lost, shorty," Jewel snickered.
"Just wait until you're eaten pavement," Krillin snorted, then as an after thought," Blondie."
The monk continued on as though nothing were happening.
"Mighty Mask."
Out of the corner the fighter stumbled, acting like he'd never walked on his own two legs before or was really drunk. He reeled about. His cape tangling about his feet as he neared the monks. Regaining his balance quickly, he grabbed his number and returned to his corner.
"Mighty Mask is number Four."
"Pi . oh I'm sorry I seemed to have missed one." He squinted over his glasses again," Would B please come forward and draw your number." There was no response," is B even here."
A few minutes passed. The other fighters milled about themselves, chatting. The monks up front were clearly getting impatient. The head monk tapped his pen on the edge of the clipboard.
"If he doesn't stop that soon," Vegeta grumbled after a bit," I'm going to take that pen and shove it up his ."
"Vegeta! Please. There are ladies present," Goku quickly interceded.
"Well I guess if B isn't going to show up we'll just have to pick a new fighter." The monk turned to his companions, " Who was the next strongest?"
"Patience is a virtue you would do well to learn, my bald headed friend," a surprisingly soft voice came out from a doorway. The cloaked figure of B soon followed it, chuckling gently, " You were taking so long I had to take a bathroom break."
The monk merely frowned, pointing to the jar of numbers. B strode quickly up to the front, drawing out his number with little show. He handed the monk his number and once again disappeared in to the doorway.
"What a rude man," the monk snorted," any way that puts B in the number eight slot. Piccolo you're up next."
Piccolo drew his number quickly and returned to the others.
"Piccolo is six."
"Sheridan . seven."
"Vegeta . eleven."
"Pity Kakkarot," Vegeta said as he returned," I had wanted to fight you right off the bat."
"Don't worry about it. You guys will get to fight in the third round." Krillin laughed," I just hope the ring will survive."
" And finally Videl is sixteen. If you will all meet here again in a half an hour the matches will begin. I want to personally wish you all good luck in your fights."
Out in the arena two monks were writing on a large black board as excited fans watched on.
"For those of you two far away to read the board," the announcers' voice came over the loud speakers," the numbers have been drawn and the fighters will follow accordingly."
"In match one we have Jewel and Krillin."
"Match two, Killer and Mighty Mask."
"Match three, Danica and Piccolo."
"Match four, Sheridan and B."
"Match five, Gohan and Eugene."
"Match six, Vegeta and Aiken."
"Match seven, Eighteen and the great Hercule."
The crowds shouted excitedly for a few moments. As they died down the announcer waited, slightly annoyed at being cut off.
"Last but not least in match eight we have Goku and Hercules daughter, Videl."
The crowd once again erupted. Joyfully they waited until the fight would begin. On edge to see who would be named this years World Greatest Marshal Artist, unknowing that more might be at stake then just reputations.
That would have to be the most boring chapter I have written.
I hope I didn't send you all to sleep. Please Review and tell me you managed to make it through.
P.S. Happy belated New years and a merry Christmas.