Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball.

Betaed by: Zim'sMostLoyalServant and my best friend.

Last Time on Dragon Ball IJ:

Goku and the Twins set outwith Nam to return to his drought ridden homeland. An investigation upriver uncovered a chintzy resort run by unfriendly neighbors was contributing to their troubles.

And they reunited with another familiar face, Giran! Or as t turns out Girard former B movie actor turned pro wrestler heel. His efforts to negotiate yo reach an understanding with ending with failure so our heroes had to secure cooperation the old fashioned way.

With the water flowing once more the Turtle students bid farewell to their new friends and returned to Goku's home on Mount Paozu, to train until the day the Dragon Balls once more revealed themselves.

Chapter 2

Prepare for Adventure!

In Which Heroes and Villain Alike Prepare for the Plunge

Kame House:

Roshi got up to the smell of breakfast. Surprised but not about to rush, he washed and got dressed, and sure enough found as fine a breakfast as he could make set out and ready for him.

"What's this, Krillin?" he asked his student. Krillin bowed by the table.

"Leaving with class, master."

"Huh? But you still have two more days before I throw you out. Falling off that cliff yesterday mess with your math skills?" Roshi asked, taking an appreciative whiff of the meal.

"No, sir. Well, I don't think so. But I know what I want to do. So, there's no need to stay longer."

"Ha, that's more like it," Roshi said, taking a seat and starting to fill a plate as Krillin did likewise, "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, I'm going back to Orrin Temple, at least for a bit."

"Revenge?" Roshi asked.

"No! Well, maybe a little. Those at the tournament will just lie about what happened. That place won't change. But if I beat the instructors and the head monk, maybe they'll get their act together and stop being a bunch of thugs."

"That's not certain, but if it knocks even one off the wrong path, it will be worthwhile. What about sticking around after and running the place?"

"Oh no! I wouldn't know where to start. After that, I plan to travel and train, like Goku and Launch are doing. Though, could you give me Chichi's address? It would be nice to visit before the three years are up."

"I don't see why not. But I'd better not hear about you bumming off of Gyu Mao, boy," Roshi said pouring a cup of coffee.

Mt Paozu:

Lunch sat on the edge of a cliff, wearing her turtle shell, looking out over the mountains and greenery.

"It's so beautiful. Nature really is stunning," she said, as a tiger snuck up behind her. The big cat leapt, and she sprang upwards. The tiger gave a yowl as it went over the cliff, only to scream in pain as Lunch grabbed it by the tail and pulled it back to safety.

As it looked at her in puzzlement, she chopped it between the eyes. Eyes white, it collapsed to the side.

"Hmph, you're lucky you're endangered in this region, or we'd have you for dinner, mister. Goku needs to be mindful of what he eats. If he eats too many tigers today, there won't be any for tomorrow," Lunch said, walking off.

The bushes rustled, and a black bear rose up, roaring at her.

"Oh! What a lovely coat! I'll get to try that wilderness book's chapter on pelts!" Lunch sparkled, while the bear sweatdropped, regretting many things.

And so, time passed as the Dragon Balls recharged:

Yamcha had left the dirt path that served as a road on this part of the island. Master Roshi's coordinates had led him here, and he was alone this time. Yamcha and Puar, for the first time in years, had parted ways.

It had been hard, but Yamcha had seen to it that Puar was settled with her grandfather. The old shapeshifter was as cranky and prone to hammering people as ever, but had actually approved of Yamcha training with the Invincible One. Yamcha had promised to write a letter every week, and hoped some time apart would mend the argument that had made them decide to take a break from each other.

Tearful as the parting had been, Yamcha felt a certain vigor in himself, marching over the grassy hills. It felt like he was really turning a corner. Like going with Bulma to West City, it was a feeling his life was really changing. He would become a truly great martial artist and win back Bulma's approval; he'd be taking charge of his destiny.

He smiled at the sight of the small pink house with the words Kame House painted on the wall. It was like those farmers had said. They'd also warned him that Roshi's training wasn't just hard, but weird. He didn't even go easy on girls, and he'd have no time for anything else, they warned him.

Yamcha wondered if it occurred to them that farming was probably just as demanding. Something claiming near all of your day wasn't a bad thing, if you either loved it or embraced it as being key to achieving your goals.

"Ah, you must be the other student," a sea turtle said. The creature was on the lawn near the front door, holding a watering can in his flipper.

"Oh, greetings, are you with the Muten Roshi?" Yamcha raised a hand, returning the greeting.

"Sadly, yes. Just call me Turtle; no human's ever pronounced my real name right anyway. Huh, compared to what he's done lately, you seem oddly typical for a student."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Oh, pardon my manners. Comes with the hermit lifestyle. Just knock on the door, Master Roshi's inside with the other one. Welcome to Kame House."

X X X

"Come on. Ya really sayin' you don't want it?" Launch admonished the wolf cornered in the pass. Brandishing the bloody piece of meat again, Launch's frown deepened as the wolf covered his eyes with his paws.

"Hmf! Freakin' wimp! It's no fun to kill and eat ya if ya don't fight back. Just for that, I'm keeping this meat. I'm sure the bears still got some lead in their pencil," she flipped the bird to the wolf before stomping off into the underbrush.

X X X

Goku burst up from the water and heaved his turtle shell onto the shore. Startled awake, Lunch hit the button on the stopwatch.

"How was my time there?" Goku asked.

"Uhhh, it turns out I don't actually know how to use this model," Lunch admitted.

X X X

Ranfan sat on the couch of her apartment, tapping her foot and looking at the folder holding the pages occupying her mind.

"That Trunks guy is quite the catch. Good-looking, funny, and more than enough money to make the housewife deal generous, too. I did say the Budokai would be my last best shot. Time to accept the dream was just that and pick a new direction in life. And a new direction has certainly fallen into my lap," the fighting woman mused to herself.

Flashback to the Budokai:

"You're different," Ranfan stated.

"I hope you caught my little explanation, cause I'm not repeating it."

"Most of it."

"Good enough. So, apparently you give guys a panty show to win if playing fake damsel doesn't work. That right?"

"What, going to say it's not honorable or something?" Ranfan asked.

"Did you even watch my fight? I just bit the other guy. Unless it's actually breaking the rules, a win is a win. And any guy who loses to that trick didn't deserve to win anyway. Heck, I wouldn't deserve to win if some hunk could beat me by stripping down to a speedo. But it's not about cheating, I'm talking about self-respect as a fighter."

"I literally couldn't afford that."

"Yeah, yeah, overpriced senseis, strip mall misogynists, and probably some willing but handsy teachers, right?"

"Pretty much," Ranfan admitted.

"Cry me a river. The question is, if you had a way to really grind your level up, would you do that instead of cheap tactics?"

"Of course."

"Really? So you're saying if you got strong for real, you'd be willing to give up the strip tease? Cause frankly, few enough women get to this tournament, and displays like that aren't exactly inspiring respect for such."

"I guess?"

"Hit my palm," Launch said, holding out her open palm.

"…Is this some 'fighters talk with their fists' thing?" Ranfan asked, getting to her feet.

"Nah, just want to see for myself if you got any real iron in that pot, or just tricks and excuses. So hit my palm, lady," Launch demanded.

Ranfan did. Launch raised an eyebrow, frown deepening. She didn't say anything, didn't need to.

'Not impressed? I could take that, even laugh it off, from a guy. But another woman in martial arts… It's not sexism, and you don't really care much about the stripping for propriety, do you? This is about whether you think I'm a real martial artist or just some trick fighter? I may not have much to show for it, and this may be the end of my path, but I am a martial artist! I worked hard to get what I have, and you will not look down on that, blondie!'

Ranfan hit the palm again. And Launch smiled.

"Okay. What's say we make a deal?" Launch chuckled, meeting the angry eyes with her amused ones.

Present Day:

She claimed this was the Muten Roshi's training routine, the Kame School curriculum. She couldn't promise the best results, as she had the man himself guiding her, but this was the map to the path Launch had walked, along with those boys.

She'd been quite clear Ranfan wasn't to share or sell this. And if she either used it for evil or used it along with her sexy antics, the blonde would track her down and punch her until her newly ugly face had to look up to see her sneakers.

"And I don't think she was kidding," Ranfan shuddered. That woman had casually given off an air of nonchalant violence. Not a maniac to lash out for no reason, but give her a reason and Ranfan guessed the retribution would not only be swift but done with little regard for what was appropriate.

Anyway, the routine made her ache to just read it. She wasn't even sure how she could incorporate running from dinosaurs with milk and out-swimming sharks into a one-day routine. But even if she couldn't replicate it perfectly, she felt she could put together something close to it.

But it wouldn't be easy. She'd have to quit her day job and use her savings to make it happen. And it would likely take a lot more than ten months without an instructor, and she'd have to assume her substitutions or omissions would make it less quickly effective, too. It might take three years to do what they did in three months. Not that she could keep that routine up for three years.

If this was what it took to be a champion, that should be a clear sign that she wasn't cut out for it. In the end, it had indeed been a game, and it was past being fun. Just a girl playing around, like all those narrow-minded instructors had said. Not all of them were men, either. She had not told Lunch or Launch that, but the few reputable women instructors she found dismissed her quick, as just a mid-placed swimsuit model looking for an angle to pick up guys. Waste of time, a distraction for the other students. Not quite rejections in most cases, but making it utterly clear they would take her on only for obligation, rather than seeing ant merit in the task.

Any merit in her.

And she had become a gimmick fighter.

She didn't want to be what they thought she was anymore.

Ranfan concluded it was a bad idea, but if she picked up the phone and called Trunks back, she'd spend the rest of her life wondering if she could have taken this gift and made something of it, made something remarkable of herself.

She tucked Trunks' number into her pocket, jotted down a list, and left the apartment for the library. She needed to get some geography questions answered. And maybe see about getting her deposit back.

After all, if she was going to go down the rabbit hole, she might as well be all in for the leap right?

And So Time passed, For Our Heroes and Everyone Else:

"Today's the day," Commander Red said, as he and Black stood in the command center. The room was abuzz with activity as the staff went about their business, while Red sat with his pet on his lap and Black stood to the side, waiting. But the Commander gave them as much regard as furniture; so long as they did what they were supposed to and he didn't need them, they weren't worthy of his attention.

"We aren't clear on the exact time, sir, it could be quite a while. Perhaps you should leave this to someone else?" Black offered. Red glared at the subordinate, who sweated a bit at the clear irritation of his superior.

"No, this operation is too vital to the Red Ribbon Army's future. It takes priority over literally everything else. I will make sure it kicks off ASAP, if I have to wait all day."

"Understood, sir. Your dedication to the cause is an inspiration," Staff Officer Black said.

Seventeen Hours Later:

"You're sure the date is right?" Red snapped, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yes sir," Black said.

"We have a hit!" one of the nameless grunts yelled from his station.

"Where!?" Red demanded, getting up from his chair and throwing his coffee to the side to splash it on Black.

"There! And there's more!" the grunt said, pointing to the wall-covering screen showing the world map.

"Seven," Red smiled. "Seven signals for seven Dragon Balls. This time, they won't slip through my grasp. Heh, would you look at that. Looks like none of them are deep in that dog's zone of control, either."

"Most fortunate. Shall I dispatch the seven corps, Commander?"

"Do it! And tell them to let nothing stand in their way. The success of this operation will clear the Red Ribbon Army's path to power. March and conquer! Who could possibly oppose our military might now!?"

Mt. Paozu:

"Listen, forget how it happened, just get it off," Launch said, voice muffled by the bucket stuck on her head.

"Huh, how about this?" Goku said. Picking up his power pole, with a solid whack that rang the metal bucket like a sour bell, he struck the offending object. A crack appeared along the edge and ran up the side. The two halves fell off her head, leaving a red spot visible.

"Goku, if I wanted it to hurt, I could have ripped it off myself," Launch told him, kicking him in the brow. Goku rolled with the blow.

"It was time for sparring anyway," He chuckled.

"Oh, feeling clever, are ya? Well, let's start all out! Rocket Launch!" she called, bursting into battle. The two of them moved their brawl away from the house, though their progress through the forest was marked by the occasional trembling of falling trees.

Meanwhile, the Dragon Radar sat under a basket half full of yams inside the house, which among other things did not have a calendar.

Two Weeks Later, Earth Countryside:

"We have Commander Red on the radio, General Brown," the communications officer said in his corner of the tent. The General approached, wearing a khaki uniform with a matching cap with gold trim displaying the Red Ribbon insignia. He was a broad-shouldered man in his thirties, with brown skin and dark brown hair slicked back under his cap and a pointed chin.

"Commander Red sir, this is General Brown," the officer reported, taking up the speaker offered by the comm officer.

"You'd better be ready to roll out, Brown, two weeks and not one of the corps has secured a single ball. At this rate I'll be needing to fill some vacancies in the chain of command," Red's voice came from the radio speaker.

"I am pleased to report we are ready to attack at a moment's notice. All needed personnel and capsules have been assembled. Since the Dragon Ball moved, we can be certain it is in someone's possession, the most likely being Don Gassi, who controls the town we are menacing. I have already arranged to speak with that mafioso, offer him a chance to fork it over," Brown reported.

"What's with asking?! I want results, not haggling. I didn't put so much firepower at your disposal to barter like housewives at the grocery store!" Red snapped.

"We could indeed flatten him in less than an hour. But doing so might make it a task to search through the rubble. My priority is to secure the Dragon Ball for you as quickly as possible, my Commander."

Black spoke next.

"Very well, attempt your negotiation. But this is his only chance. We've let him run that area without interference because we deemed our resources better spent elsewhere, but if he thinks he can stand against a Corps of the Red Ribbon Army, clearly a lesson is in order in that neck of the woods," Black stated solemnly.

"Fine. He gets one chance to buy his life and pathetic territory with the Dragon Ball. But if he doesn't, don't stop with his little mafia; after you get the ball, burn that speck off the map," Red said.

"Understood, sir. General Brown, over and out."

X X X

The gangster was older and shorter than Brown, even more apparent when they each took a seat in folding chairs set up a few paces from each other. Rows of Red Ribbon soldiers stood at the ready behind Brown, while over a dozen black sedans were parked behind the don, with suited men holding automatic rifles milling about around them. In the background, a town dominated by a steeple and buildings painted white covered a hill.

"So, you really think you and your knockoff army can just waltz in and claim what's mine?"

"We are only interested in this. Either stand aside to let us search for it, or surrender it and there's no reason we can't continue to be neighbors as we have these last four years since the Red Ribbon replaced so many of your peers." He once again held up the colored sketch of a Dragon Ball.

"Hmph, maybe you army boys are used to rolling over and barking on command like good doggies, but my people follow men, not dogs and toy soldiers. And I wouldn't be a man if I just coughed something over to you or let you root through my stuff. Even if I did have that, I'd only consider maybe selling it to you lot. And frankly, if it's valuable to you, King Furry would probably pay double what that little ginger would. No deals, get out of my territory or I send you all back in hearses," the Don said. He stood up quickly to knock the chair over, and walked back to the line of cars as his men raised their guns, moving smoothly into rough formations.

"What a pity, I liked the food here," Brown sighed. Raising his right hand high, he snapped his fingers. Several of the soldiers behind him jogged to the front of their formations, taking out capsules and throwing them down with smoke rising.

The don turned as he got in his car. The smoke cleared to reveal a line of tanks and attack helicopters bristling with weapons, and the remaining soldiers quickly climbing in as their engines roared to life. The don slammed the door shut, and the sedan sped back toward town. The others followed, the gangsters left behind either running or firing shots off at the infantry slowly advancing as the tanks started to roll.

Retreating or resisting, they fell soon enough. General Brown just smiled and took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a pull as tanks rumbled and helicopters roared overhead, already firing missiles.

"Still, the hard way is fun too," he grinned, as the Red Ribbon Army seized still more people and territory for its own over the dead bodies of those who would dare oppose them.

Two Hours Later:

"Sir, we have it!" a lowly soldier said, bursting into the late don's office where Brown was riffling through papers while other soldiers carted off valuable baubles and broke brick-a-brac like a six foot portrait of the late owner.

"Show me!" Brown demanded, paperwork forgotten. The soldier nodded, and held out a light orange sphere with five stars of darker orange suspended in its center. Brown took the ball with a smile.

"It was with other oddity loot. Apparently some peasant delivered it in lieu of their payments, not having enough tribute on hand for the don. The don wasn't pleased, it seems, but kept it anyway thinking it might be worth something at the appraiser."

"He was right, but it was a poison prize. Fortunately, the Red Ribbon is likely the only force in the world that could hold such power with impunity. Commence a loot and burn on the town. Let the civilians escape this time. Staff Officer Black was right; the people high and low need to be reminded the fear and obedience owed to the Red Ribbon Army. Prepare my personal jet and escort. I'll be delivering this to High Command personally."

"Yessir!"

Mt. Paozu:

"Hmm?" Launch went, pausing as she left the hut. Her hair had grown out some, and she'd been thinking of lopping some off with a knife, but just now she noticed there was something under that empty basket.

Moving the basket, she blinked at the piece of machinery. It certainly didn't look like something Goku or his kung-fu hermit grandpa would have.

"Hey, isn't this the Dragon Radar? How did Goku say it works again?" Launch wondered. She pressed down the button on the side of the circular object, and the dark screen came to life, three spots blinking on it.

"Oh. Hey, Goku! I think we lost track of time!"

"Whaddaya mean!?" Goku yelled back from outside.

"The Dragon Balls are back, this thing says!" she answered, waving the radar outside the door.

BOOM
CRASH
BOING

As the dust cloud rolled over to her, Launch stepped fully outside, closing the door, and Goku scampered up. Letting him swipe the machine, she watched his face light up.

"Alright! Now we can get my Grandpa's ball back. Let's leave right away!" Goku cheered.

"Fine with me, this place is ship shape, and with you on the point, it's not like we could starve anywhere short of the desert or the polars. Let's find some Dragon Balls," Launch nodded with a fierce grin.

Author's Note:

And so we continue.

Thanks for reading, long days and pleasant nights to you all.