A/N: Bam! And the nasty inspiration bug strikes like so. Therefore, here I am, attempting my first fic. After reading well over a hundred fics in this genre, I decided that it was worth a try. This will be a G/V and a mild Gohan torture fic, simply because the DBZ series went to hell after the Saiyaman Saga, and it sucked considerably after the Cell Saga. Well, I am not going to take up space rambling here, so here is the Prologue to my first fic.
Disclaimer: *Laughs hysterically*
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Prologue: A Commencement of Considerable Boredom
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Announcer Guy was bored. No, simply bored was not the proper descriptor, he was bored to death. Mr. Guy had been dealt a bad hand in life, or so he would like to say. This series of unfortunate events spanned from his birth to his present humdrum life. Watching the rural scenery flash underneath the helicopter, he pulled his hands through his mane of well-polished hair and leaned a weary head against the unforgiving metal of the small enclosure. It all had started when his mother, an eccentric woman, decided to name her son 'Announcer,' and spanned up until the previous World Martial Arts Tournament.
Now, that was a pathetic spectacle. Gone were the glory days of the Tournament, where green men blew up the ring, socially inept and freakishly strong children made it to the finals, and the martial arts displayed there were a demonstration of mastery and originality. No, it was now reduced to a circus for that king of clowns, Hercule Satan, to flash his embarrassing poses. Sure, he went along with it, but wouldn't anyone? Glancing around the interior of the helicopter, he did have to admit that the perks were great enough that he could still manage to paint on a happy, enthused smile and shout moving commentary over the cheers of an adoring fan base; not his fan base of course, Hercule's.
Well, Announcer guy was desperate for some decent competition. It made his job much more genuine when could exclaim "wow" without inwardly grimacing. Therefore, his small private helicopter, courtesy of his generous paycheck, was making its way towards the 439 Mountain Area. There, he could query the one fighter that never failed to astound him on the topic of his lack of participation in the preceding Tournament, and hopefully persuade him to enter the one promptly approaching. Rubbing his hands together in the rear right corner of the posh flying vehicle as an untouched landscape passed beneath him, Announcer Guy vowed that he would broadcast another tournament featuring Son Goku.
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A/N: Dun dun dun! Didn't anyone think it was weird that no one noticed that the winner of a WORLD Martial Arts Tournament simply disappeared? What kind of universe doesn't notice when a public figure dies? What utter bull! Therefore, I am addressing this plot hole (out of the noticeable millions) in this little A/U ficcy. I doubt that anyone (mainly me, I still need to write out the rest of the summary) is going to see where this is going!
As always, reviews are welcomed, and encouraged, and loved, etc, etc, etc. And if I suck, tell me. As much as I like ass-kissing, if you tell me where I need to improve, I'll be even more grateful!
Disclaimer: *Laughs hysterically*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prologue: A Commencement of Considerable Boredom
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Announcer Guy was bored. No, simply bored was not the proper descriptor, he was bored to death. Mr. Guy had been dealt a bad hand in life, or so he would like to say. This series of unfortunate events spanned from his birth to his present humdrum life. Watching the rural scenery flash underneath the helicopter, he pulled his hands through his mane of well-polished hair and leaned a weary head against the unforgiving metal of the small enclosure. It all had started when his mother, an eccentric woman, decided to name her son 'Announcer,' and spanned up until the previous World Martial Arts Tournament.
Now, that was a pathetic spectacle. Gone were the glory days of the Tournament, where green men blew up the ring, socially inept and freakishly strong children made it to the finals, and the martial arts displayed there were a demonstration of mastery and originality. No, it was now reduced to a circus for that king of clowns, Hercule Satan, to flash his embarrassing poses. Sure, he went along with it, but wouldn't anyone? Glancing around the interior of the helicopter, he did have to admit that the perks were great enough that he could still manage to paint on a happy, enthused smile and shout moving commentary over the cheers of an adoring fan base; not his fan base of course, Hercule's.
Well, Announcer guy was desperate for some decent competition. It made his job much more genuine when could exclaim "wow" without inwardly grimacing. Therefore, his small private helicopter, courtesy of his generous paycheck, was making its way towards the 439 Mountain Area. There, he could query the one fighter that never failed to astound him on the topic of his lack of participation in the preceding Tournament, and hopefully persuade him to enter the one promptly approaching. Rubbing his hands together in the rear right corner of the posh flying vehicle as an untouched landscape passed beneath him, Announcer Guy vowed that he would broadcast another tournament featuring Son Goku.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Dun dun dun! Didn't anyone think it was weird that no one noticed that the winner of a WORLD Martial Arts Tournament simply disappeared? What kind of universe doesn't notice when a public figure dies? What utter bull! Therefore, I am addressing this plot hole (out of the noticeable millions) in this little A/U ficcy. I doubt that anyone (mainly me, I still need to write out the rest of the summary) is going to see where this is going!
As always, reviews are welcomed, and encouraged, and loved, etc, etc, etc. And if I suck, tell me. As much as I like ass-kissing, if you tell me where I need to improve, I'll be even more grateful!
