Chapter Thirteen – Magical Mystery Tour
Mirai slumped against the wall until he got his breath back. The journey had left him weakened and exhausted, but it wouldn't be long until the temporal field around his body re-aligned itself, Mirai hoped. It was all pretty theoretical stuff, even his mother couldn't figure it all out, and she'd invented a fully working time machine! Well… his other mother had invented one too, but by accident. It must have been an accident, Mirai reasoned.
The half-Saiyan peered at the watch, and realised it had gone back several hours. At least it keeps in synch with whatever time frame it's in… Mirai thought to himself, trying to see the good side to this mess.
Eventually, his body stopped shaking, and his breaths became more orderly. Pushing himself away from the wall, Mirai stretched his body and grunted as his joints and muscles flexed to more comfortable positions. "Ah man… I've never felt this stiff in all my life…" Shaking his head, long strands of lilac hair cascading about his face, to relieve the stiffness of his neck, Mirai stepped out from the alley in which he had landed, and out into the open street.
What he saw amazed him slightly. Old-style cars moved past quickly, but still slow compared to the vehicles he was used to. The cries of city life were all around him, and the smell was almost unreal. It smelt like damn rubbish that had been left there for days to rot, and the most disconcerting thing was that it drifted along the streets in a ruddy murk.
Walking down the street, Mirai looked around at his surroundings, and somewhere in the distance, a clock tower chimed eleven with low, mournful strokes.
"Hi, you're cute," a female voice said. Mirai, disturbed from his thoughts, looked up at a girl. Her hair curled at the end and she was wearing something that appeared to be more belt than skirt. Her eyes were heavily coated in makeup and her eyelashes were thick enough to use as nails.
"Uh… thanks…" Mirai said, and continued on his way.
"My names Janet – what's yours?" the girl asked, following him.
"Trunks," Mirai said, absentmindedly.
"What an odd name, you're not from around here, are you?" the girl asked.
"No, I'm… on holiday." Mirai replied.
"Oooh, where are you from?"
"Oh, nowhere special…"
"I bet it's nicer than this bloody place," the girl chirped.
"Hmmm," Mirai mused.
"Who's your friend, Janet?" another female voice asked.
"His name's Trunks," Janet replied. A hand reached out and gripped Mirai by the arm, and he instinctively pulled away.
"Oooh, you should feel the bulge under that jacket," the second voice said.
"'Ere!" Janet said, sounding offended. "Hands off, this one's mine!"
"Well tough!" a third female voice crowed. "I wants 'im!"
"Shove off, you slag!" a fourth voice cried. Startled, Mirai turned around to see a multitude of women following him down the street.
They all stared into his baby-blue eyes.
They swooned and sighed deeply.
He turned around and ran as fast as he could down the street.
** * ** * **
Napa opened his eyes and groaned. Reaching up, he rubbed his throbbing forehead, and raised himself up into a sitting position. Then he patiently waited for the room to stop spinning. A small, fat man with a towel wrapped about his head was watching him, grinning a grin large enough to easily accommodate a bunch of bananas, and easily have enough room for the rest of the fruit bowl.
"Ah, you are awake, effendi!" the man said, somehow managing to grin even as he spoke.
"Urgh, yeah…" Napa grunted.
"Your are lucky to be alive, effendi! Yes, very lucky! Your water would have gone to the desert, had my men not discovered you!"
"The… desert?" the Saiyan asked.
The fat man frowned. "I fear effendi's blow to the bonce has left you several palm trees shy of an oasis."
"If "offendee" don't shut up, I'll give him a blow to the bonce that'll make sure he's several teeth short of a mouthful," Napa growled.
"Sorry, effendi,"
"Now, where am I?" the Saiyan demanded.
"You are in the palace of the Sultan Al-batross," the Sultan said, grinning still. "It is a great honour to have you here with us, effendi!"
"It is?" Napa asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh yes! It is not very often we get such great warriors in the great desert!" The sultan explained, and Napa beamed at such words. "Such a pity we will have to execute effendi at the end of his three days." Napa's expression dropped.
"Execute?"
"Yes, effendi."
"… As in… kill?"
"Yes, effendi," the Sultan said. "I fear the blow to the noggin was more severe than you thought, effendi," the sultan hissed to a figure near-by. Napa looked at the tall, skinny man standing to the left of the Sultan's cushions. He was very skinny, had a skinny moustache, a long, serious skinny face, cold eyes, and wore a turban with a spike appearing though the top. Napa, one of the most cold-blooded killers in the universe, a man who's only complaint about eating babies was that they were too lean and didn't have enough meat on them, looked into those eyes and felt his blood run cold.
"I am Al-hergy, Grad Vizier to the Sultan," the taller of the two men said with a bow. "I do hope you enjoy your three days with us. Make sure you sample all of our delights before we disembowel you and burn your intestines."
Napa swallowed hard.
"Thanks…"
"Now, effendi we eat!" the Sultan said cheerfully, clapping his hands together and rubbing the palms. Beautiful women appeared from side-passages, each bearing platters of steaming food. Steaming roast meats in succulent sauces, fruits, nuts, flat bread, cold meat cut into slices… Napa drooled from both the food and the waitresses, who lounged lingeringly about the room.
The Sultan pulled dates and dark meats onto a golden plate, added grapes ad other fruits as he saw fit, the large heavy jewelled golden rings clattering from the golden platters as he moved his hand this way and that.
"Come, eat, eat!" the Sultan said with a hearty laugh, stuffing a date into his mouth and biting into it. Napa couldn't take his eyes from the scantily clad women. Their clothes were made from silk and threaded gold lace; barely enough to cover the most intimate bits of their bodies. What wasn't covered was left to the imagination, and after all these years without, ahem, "female company", Napa was imagining quite a lot.
"I believe our guest is distracted by the servants, Sultan," the Grand Vizier said, not trying to conceal the humour in his voice.
"Yes, yes, and who would not, eh? Ha-ha!" The Sultan laughed.
"Yes, indeed. Ha. Ha." Al-hergy emulated the laugh, unconvincingly.
"You want to sample the quality of our women, effendi?" the Sultan asked with a sly smile. "You are my honoured guest in my humble home, and as such, whatever is mine, is yours!"
"You mean…" Napa started.
"Yes, effendi! If you see one you like, I'll make sure she finds her way to your apartments through the night!"
Napa licked his lips with a dry tongue. "What about… all of them?"
The Sultan burst into great roars of laughter, and almost threatened to topple of his pillow. "That is what I like to see, effendi! A man who knows his own desires! Not like this old stick here," the Sultan said, slapping the Vizier jovially on the back. Al-hergy, not expecting this, staggered forwards a couple of paces and his turban slipped over his eyes.
"Indeed, your great rotundness. But, perhaps, we should leave the harem wenches for yourself? After all, we don't want any… accidents to happen." The Vizier suggested, slipping his turban back into place.
"Nonsense!" the Sultan cried. "My home is effendi's home. My harem is effendi's harem."
"As the Sultan commands."
"Now, effendi, eat! You will be in need of all the energy you can muster tonight! These women are not only trained to be carriers of food!" The Sultan winked at Napa, and roared with laughter once more, before returning to enjoy his food. Napa thought about all this, and started to eat from the golden dishes of food.
This didn't seem so bad, Napa thought. Execution aside – all this food, all these women, it was perfect. The execution could easily be set aside. He could kill the executioners, for a start. His strength was sure to return after he'd eaten. Napa hesitated as an unpleasant though struck him. Na, it'll be fine.
** * ** * **
Mirai ducked into an alleyway, his jacketed chest heaving as he gasped for air. He wiped the sweat his brow and brushed sweat-lank hair from his eyes.
"Why me…" he groaned, thinking back to the first and, so far only, gig they had played, at the Orange Star High School. The pawing hands, the ripping fingernails, the pouting lips…
Mirai wallowed hard and suppressed a whimper before daring to look around the corner. He turned his head this way and that, and when he was sure the coast was clear, he quietly snuck out into the street.
He had almost made to the top, when a shriek pierced the air.
"There he is!" a vaguely feminine voice cried. "Don't let him get away!"
Turning back with horror, Mirai saw a multitude of screaming girls stampeding towards. With a cry of horror, the half-Saiyan forced his legs into overdrive and he charged onwards. Turning the corner, his legs pounded as hard as they could carry him, sending him surging down the lane and around another corner. He slammed his back against the wall and stood flat against the brickwork, breathing heavily.
"I think… I lost… them," he gasped between breaths.
"I think he went down this way!" another girl's voice shouted from close by.
"Argh! " Mirai shrieked and sped off again.
"Don't run away, we won't hurt you!" Cried one of the screaming girls.
"I don't wanna die!" Mirai sobbed, lunging an arm out and swimming around a corner. Four men in grey suits stood idly at the corner, chatting amongst themselves. They had mop-haircuts and spoke in strong Scouse accents, and as Mirai belted around the corner they all looked at him.
"Hey, like the hair-do," one of the said. He had a big nose.
"You have to save me!" Mirai screamed.
"Save you? What for? You look fine to us," another said.
"Girls! Lots of girls!" Mirai gasped, letting his body sag. He gripped his knees for support and gulped down air.
"Did he say… girls?" the big-nosed one asked, sounding worried.
"I think he did, Ringo," said a third.
"Were they screaming by any chance?" the fourth asked.
"Yeah…"
"He said they were screaming, John," the third one said again.
"I heard, Paul. What do you think we should do?" the second answered.
"I dunno, what do you think we should do, Ringo?"
"Scarper," the one addressed as Ringo replied. "Very quickly, in a direction that doesn't go in that direction."
"Why, what's in that direction?" the fourth member asked. Ringo pointed in the direction Mirai had just come from.
"You don't want to know, George. You really don't want to know."
On cue, Mirai and the three others turned around. Stalking carefully around the corner came The Girls. As one, they paused, and looked up at the five.
They blinked.
The five blinked back.
The Girls gasped and flung hands over their mouths.
The five cringed.
The Girls shrieked in pure delight.
The five shrieked in absolute horror.
The Girls started to pour forward like an avalanche.
Four grabbed a startled Mirai, and ran like hell.
They turned around various corners, Mirai held between them like a ladder, rigid from terror. All that could be heard were the shrieks, and the occasional "Oh my god! Did you see who he was with? OH MY GOD!"
"You alright, kid?" John asked as they pelted down street after street.
"B-b-b..." Mirai replied.
"It could be worse, y'know." Ringo said.
"How could this possibly get any worse?" George panted, gripping onto Mirai's feet for dear life. If they dropped him now, they would never have time to turn back pick him up. He would have to be left as a martyr for the cause.
"They could be trying to kill us."
"They are trying to kill us," John gasped. "They'll just be doing it very nicely, and there's no way we'll be able to object."
"Yes we will," Paul said. "You just say 'I object.'"
"Well you may well be able to do that," John replied. "But I was brought up never to speak with your mouth full."
"That's alright, I'll object for you."
"You're a great pal, Ringo."
"Cheers."
"Now, be a pal and lead us out of bloody' London."
** * ** * **
Bulma and Tomatta scurried about the lab-room franticly, looking through notes, leafing through pieces of paper, sending pieces of equipment flying in a desperate attempt to find out what the hell went wrong!
"Maybe they were just too good," Trunks said, fidgeting nervously.
"Yeah… maybe they were so accurate, that they accidentally froze them in time, or something." Goten said.
"If they were frozen in time, Goten, we'd be able to see them."
"Nuh-uh!" Goten piped. "If they were frozen in time… then they would be frozen when they put the watches on, so they wouldn't be in time anymore, which means they'd be trapped at the point when they put the watches on. Gee Trunks, I thought you were smart."
Trunks looked at Goten, and then looked over at his mother. "Mom, tell him he's wrong!"
"He's right, honey," Bulma said, typing at the keyboard ferociously. Trunks' jaw fell open and he turned back to Goten, who was beaming with pride.
"Well… well… well…"
Gohan burst into the room, and held a tape aloft in his hand. "I know what happened," he said solemnly, casting a meaningful glance to Goten and Trunks.
"What?" Bulma said, turning around in her seat. Tomatta paused what he was doing and looked at his cousin.
"I said: I know what went wrong. I don't think it was anything you or Tomatta or Trunks did, or at the very most least, it's not all your fault." Gohan turned to the kids and smiled mirthlessly. "Isn't that right, you two?"
"Uh… gee, is that the time? We really must be…"
A silver flash blinded them, and they felt something heavy slam against their chests, pinning them to the wall. When their sight returned moments later, they saw Gohan shrouded in a silvery aura, two points of dazzling silver light burning through the brilliant energy where Gohan's eyes would be.
"Tell us what you did, now," he said.
** * ** * **
Napa watched with gleaming eyes as she caressed and manipulated. Her fingers ran smoothly over its length, and she spread on the oil with a delicate caress.
"Mmmm, yeah. That's right, do it slowly." Napa purred, not taking his eyes from the scene for a moment.
"As you command, my master," she replied demurely, coyly licking her finger and moaning in pleasure. It was sending Napa wild with desire - he had to have it!
"Do you want more of the same, or a little extra?" another voice whispered into his ear. Napa hesitated. What he was seeing was good… but he wanted more!
"No, try something else now…" he said. His mouth was dry, despite it salivating constantly at what he saw before him.
"It's so big… are you sure you can take it?" one of the girls said.
"Yeah, that and a whole lot more," Napa replied. "Ooooh, a little more of that. Yeah, that's it."
"Do you like it like this?" the first girl asked.
"Yeah, just like Momma used to do it," Napa said, swallowing hard.
"As you say, my lord," the second girl said. Her fingers were long, and they did their job expertly.
"It's been so long since somebody called me that…" Napa said with a sigh.
"Tsk tsk," the first girl said. "People can be so disrespectful."
"Yeah! I used to command one of the greatest armies ever known! And to think I was beaten by a lowly peasant…"
"I'm sure master wasn't beaten. Not with such big muscles," the first girl responded, laying on another layer over the surface expertly.
"Beaten and killed, but now I'm back from the dead and stronger than ever before," Napa said, proudly.
"Mmmm, my lord likes this, doesn't he…" the second girl said.
"Oh yeah… I can't wait to taste it."
"Almost ready, My Lord," she said.
"I hope so… I can't stand the teasing much longer."
"It's so moist, and subtle. And the scent… mmm, delicious."
"I… can't… take… it…"
"Not long now, My Lord," the first girl teased, holding her fingers to his nose, letting him breath the scent in deeply.
"I can't stand it any longer!" Napa cried. He lunged forward with both hands, the girls giggling as he reached past them, taking the flat-bread sandwich tat they'd been painstakingly preparing for him, teasingly sliding the toppings on, playing with the sauces and the various spiced butters.
Napa moaned, absorbed in the bliss of the taste, as he chewed the Middle-eastern hoagie without restraint. This was heaven – he hadn't felt so good since the golden days of Planet Vegeta.
"Luxury," the General said, his mouthful, morsels of spiced meats spraying across the room. "You may leave us now."
The girls exchanged glances at each other, and then slinked out of the apartment, leaving Napa with the flatbreads, the sandwich fillings, and his appetite.
"He eats more than the Sultan!" the first girl hissed as they trotted down the hall.
"But, I suspect, he bathes less! He smells worse than a camel at the height of summer!"
Things are starting to go awry! What exactly did Trunks and Goten do? Will Napa find a way to escape execution, and will Mirai Trunks escape the horde or girls chasing him? Perhaps, with a little help from his friends. Find out more, next time, on Death Saiyan!