Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball.

Betaed by: Zim'sMostLoyalServant and my best friend.

Special Thanks: To Bobdude17's "Launch Time" once more for inspiring this fic. If you haven't checked it out yet please do so.

Last Time on Dragon Ball IJ:

Krillin set out from Kame House to face his past in the temple he long trained in. Yamcha meanwhile began his own training under the Turtle Hermit; and Ranfan also set out on training journey!

As For Goku, Launch, and Lunch they continue training and passing the time on Mt. Paozu, unknowingly losing track of the the time and missing the Dragon Balls reactivation! But the evil Red Ribbon army is far more attentive and is on the move.

And so the first Dragon Ball goes to the forces of evil while our heroes missed the starting pistol. What adventures await as the second dragon ball hunt unfolds!?

Chapter 3

Hitting the Silver Lining

Red Ribbon meet the Kame School!

Colonel Silver entered the ring, stepping over the ropes at the edge with practiced ease. The redhead threw off his jacket, did a few stretches and threw some practice punches before addressing his opponent.

"Sakamoto, I trust I don't need to go over the rules?" Silver asked, as a private uncuffed the martial artist in the other corner of the ring. The other man didn't answer, glaring defiantly despite the barely fading bruises on his face and band-aid across the nose.

"Good to see you still have vigor, let's go then," Silver stated. He advanced casually toward the center, while Sakamoto hung back, looking him over.

When the attack came, it was with a flurry of blows as Sakamoto closed the distance. Silver raised his arms, blocking the punches, and tanked the kick to his left shin. His own left hook staggered the man. Silver smiled that the other man didn't fall, and followed up with a left hook that the other man dodged, coming in on the opening to land a blow on Silver's cheek. Silver's head turned with the blow, and he turned it back with a small smile on his face when the fist withdrew. His own flurry of punches was blocked ably, but as it went on it was clear his opponent was being worn down; the movements became heavier, the flinching and pained grunts more obvious.

Finally, Silver went in for an uppercut, landing it perfectly on the prisoner's chin. The man fell back to the mat, and the private counted down.

"Ten! Another victory, Colonel sir," the goggle-wearing nonentity said. Silver barely acknowledged him with a nod before climbing out of the ring.

"This one is still amusing to fight for my morning warmup, send him to the med tent to get patched up. He'll probably need two days to recover, though; send for another punching bag from Corps HQ," Silver said.

"Right away sir, as you command."

"As I command, I never get tired of that," Silver chuckled darkly, making his way through the encampment of capsule buildings to his own quarters.

As he showered and dressed for the day, he reflected on how even with the current trying circumstances, his life had ended up at an excellent place. His father had been a lowly school janitor, always saying how hard work and good moral living paid off, and his mother had been cut from the same drab uninspiring cloth. The two had grown old and died, amounting to nothing, with their only legacy being a funeral home crowded with retired teachers and former brats sobbing over how nice the useless fools had been.

They'd taught him, if only by accident, that if you wanted to make something of life, you needed to focus on getting what you wanted and be ready to trample others to get it. Those who helped others ended up slaves of society, those who helped themselves ruled society.

That had led him from street gangs, to biker gangs, countryside Yakuza, and four years ago to the Red Ribbon Army. Of all of them, the RRA was easily his favorite. This lot did not bother with anything like neighborhood or regional pride, this supremacist or that hate, or ridiculous harping over tradition, brotherhood, pack, or any other dreary hollow cause. The Red Ribbon was all about seizing power; you helped the higher-ups take what they wanted, and in return you got a slice. And the dangling promise that if you had the skills, the courage, and the luck, you might climb the ranks and end up as the authority holding the knife and deciding who got what. In short, it was all the power a man could want with no tedious distractions of ideology, unless you counted "those who can shall do, and those who can't shall do as they are told; or else." Silver didn't count that as ideology, because to him it was a simple fact and others were at fault for not following it.

Just like his hobby of beating people senseless for fun. Commander Red couldn't care less so long as it didn't interfere with Silver carrying out his duty and orders. And he'd even said he would reward Silver in kind if he was genuinely pleased with his performance. Blue, he understood, had a similar deal regarding his love of big strong men to torture and play with. The list went on, and wow did it ever; the RRA had attracted the cream of the underworld from across Earth, those willing to bend their knee in exchange for a shot at fulfilling their dark desires in the light of day under a new world order.

Granted, as he finished up his breakfast and called the Commander for his morning report, there were downsides.

"Silver, General Brown has secured a Dragon Ball," Red said bluntly.

"Really? That is good news," Silver answered.

"And I presume you still have nothing?" Red pressed.

"That is correct sir, my men however will be getting back to work as we speak."

"Back to work? Why would you stop in the first place, Silver?"

"Sir, if we have all the men working at once as you instructed, they need rest, and it will be harder to find the Dragon Ball at night anyway."

"No excuses! We have six more Dragon Balls to go, and you idiots are dragging your heels. I don't care if there are tornadoes ripping through your search zone, I expect you to have men searching around the clock until it is found!" Red commanded.

"Understood sir, we will leave not a stone unturned."

The next voice to come over the line was Staff Officer Black, "Admirable. If I might suggest, in addition to lending a hand yourself as duties permit, those prisoners you keep for training could be put to use in the search."

"That's a good idea, you need to get that Dragon Ball more than you need to have fun, Silver. I expect to see results soon, or we have a firing squad with your name on it."

The line went dead, and Silver just frowned at the radio.

Yes, the fact his own life was at the mercy of the whims of superiors was a downside. But he was confident he could rise to the occasion and in due time take Red's place at the top of the pecking order. And with the Red Ribbon sweeping all before it, that would make him king of the world.

Still, there were things to deal with first, he had to remind himself. Driving out to one of the searching posts personally, wearing his trademark purple jacket, the red-haired shirtless man found the two soldiers in residence barely beginning their daily search.

"It's already past eight, and you men barely begin to do your duty," he announced himself to the knock-off cowboy and beastman. The two flinched, noticing him. As they should; he had risen not just through his personal talents, but his ability to fearfully motivate underlings.

"Colonel Silver, we are doing our best sir, but this is a lot of territory to cover for something that small," the cowboy remarked.

"I don't want to hear it, soldier. Brown Corps found their ball, and the Commander has taken that as proof that all we lack is proper determination to succeed. We are officially on borrowed time. Get to work, slackers get the death penalty."

That got them moving, and he went back to the jeep, shovel in hand. He'd need to make a display of taking part, but he had little intention of dirtying himself more than the minimum on this ridiculous quest for so-called magic genie-summoning balls or whatever.

The comm at his belt began vibrating.

"Colonel Silver! We have an unknown aircraft on radar, heading toward your current position. It's coming in fast. ETA four minutes."

"What? Blast, the search has the Corps spread out. Send all adjacent units and nearby patrols to rally to my position at once!"

The last thing he needed was a surprise attack from the Royal military or a rival faction to hinder the operation. Rushing into the capsule house serving as the outpost building, he checked its radar to confirm the unidentified flier. A quick trip to the heavy weapons cabinet had him exiting with a shoulder-mounted AA rocket launcher.

He paid no mind as the reinforcements he requested drove in hastily. Their requests for further orders were ignored as his keen eyes scanned the skies.

Was a battle about to break out? It might just be dumb city tourists. A scouting craft, or a bomber that would hit the base camp, ignoring his little outpost.

In his life in the army and various outlaw outfits, he'd become accustomed to many unexpected turns. But Silver was given pause when the top-of-the-line scope showed him a boy with spiky black hair in orange, and a blue-haired woman also in orange, riding a golden cloud.

He did the only reasonable thing when faced with such an unknown. He opened fire with lethal intent, squeezing the trigger of the rocket launcher. The explosion in the air confirmed the impact, as his men cheered.

"What was it, Colonel sir?" one of the grunts asked him.

"Not quite sure, but into the vehicles. I want to check for any survivors or debris."

Sure enough, the two people he'd seen on the cloud quickly popped up as the jeeps raced across the badlands. Silver got out of his while it was still moving, and the boy turned on him angrily.

"Hey! Are you the one who blew up the Nimbus?!"

"If you mean the cloud, yes. Impressive vehicle, though not very durable," Silver said, as his men parked, surrounding the duo. The woman looked around in surprise, but the boy had all his attention on him.

"How could you do something so mean! The Nimbus didn't do anything to you! It was my gift from the Turtle Guy for helping Turtle! I won't forgive you!" the kid seethed.

"Well, you aren't very sharp. Here you are, in the palm of the Red Ribbon Army's fist about to clench, and you're daring to make threats? Men, take the girl for questioning, I'll take care of this brat personally," Silver said. The kid pulled a staff, of all things, off his back and faced him. His sister or whatever was forgotten as the troops moved behind his back, cutting the two off from one another.

"Oh, you wanna fight? Fine by me!" the kid said, leveling his pole.

"Nice stick; let me introduce you to modern warfare, brat," Silver said. His quickdraw was impeccable; he'd put trick photography in western movies to shame, if he said so himself.

The kid dodged it so casually that Silver was sure for a moment it had been luck. He emptied the clip, and in doing so confirmed it wasn't dumb luck. And his men were crying out about getting shot, but that wasn't important.

"My turn!" the brat said, and rushed up under his pistol whip to strike him in the stomach.

Sakamoto's blows were nothing compared to this hit. For a moment, vision blurring, he thought back to school and the last time he'd been truly beaten up, by the dad and mom of one of his favorite victims on the way home from school. The thought snapped him back to lucidity, jaw clenched as he forced his body to straighten. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside, showing the kid the masterful form that his training and experience had crafted, he was all he could be courtesy of the RRA's training programs, and drugs.

"So, you've had some training. Good, I was getting bored digging in the dirt," he remarked, despite having not done any digging himself.

"Oh, are you going to fight for real now?" the brat asked.

"Don't take Colonel Silver of the Red Ribbon Army lightly. Or you'll die before you have a chance to regret it!"

Silver sprang forward on the last word, his kick knocking the boy into the air and following it up with a vicious hook, smacking him into the ground.

Pausing to revel in the boy's pain before going for the kill, he was brought up short. The boy wasn't writhing in pain or passing out, he glared up at him with only anger in his eyes. Silver barely saw the blow that took him as the boy sprang up. He saw stars, staggering away. It was the same spot Sakamoto had hit him, but the difference was like between a star at night and the sun at noon!

He had to erase this atrocity!

"Men! Kill that boy now!" he bellowed. When no one rushed to perforate the brat with bullets, he turned to glare and saw his men spread out bleeding, groaning, and generally beat up. Only that girl was still standing, dusting her orange gi off and casually humming a little tune. Silver just stared at the absurd sight, eye twitching.

"Goku, do you want some help?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm almost done," the brat said, walking up to Silver. Letting out a wordless bellow of rage, Silver raised a fist and brought it down on the boy's head. Only for him to catch it on his forearm and parry it, sending Silver falling. He didn't see the punch that knocked him out.

X X X

"Ah man, what are we going to do without the Nimbus?" Goku lamented, joining Lunch.

"Well, we aren't in a big hurry, so nothing wrong with walking."

"But the radar doesn't show what ball it is. Like I said, this six-star one we found is no good, I don't care about a wish," Goku whined, "It could take forever to find my Grandpa's ball."

"Well, we can just hotwire one of these," Lunch said, taking out a pepper pack.

"Achoo! …Looks like I missed a party," Launch remarked, looking around the defeated platoon.

"Nah, these guys weren't strong; this guy was a bit, but he wouldn't have made it to the Budokai past the elimination round I bet," Goku said, pointing to Silver passed out on the ground, "Anyway, these jerks blew up the Nimbus, Lunch said we could hotrod these cars or something?"

"Hotwire, and don't bother. These guys have 'military type' written all over them. Five'll get ya ten there's a base with fueled-up planes nearby. Take a leap and take a look, kid," Launch ordered. Goku complied, jumping as high as he could. Unknown to the two of them, one soldier was awake, with an eye half opened, watching.

Later:

Silver entered the base camp, grinding his teeth. The place was a display of carnage, men scattered all over, pummeled, knocked out or otherwise out of commission. And vehicles spread out so haphazardly in the staging area it could only mean someone had rooted through the capsule storage.

"Colonel Silver! Thank Kami you're alright," a sergeant said, rushing up. He was uninjured.

"Soldier, you were stationed at base camp, correct?" Silver demanded.

"Uh, yes sir! We were attacked by-"

"A brat with stupid hair and a blue-haired girl, right?"

"Um, she was actually blonde, sir."

"Hmm, that matches the report I got. Trivial, but perhaps worth the report. What vehicle did they take?"

"One of the jets, sir, the new kind that can take off like a helicopter."

"And you saw all that without putting up any fight at all? Cowering when the enemy invaded and escaped with the Dragon Ball the Commander entrusted us to find?"

"Sir! Well, sir! I thought I needed to ensure my own survival to report what happened," the sergeant said, sweating. Silver took out his pistol and put a fresh clip in it.

"Then you accomplished your mission, solder, that will be all," Silver told him.

BANG

Entering the communication building while his men looked on stunned at the new corpse and conquered base, he was met with the sight of the incoming call light flashing. He recognized the coded sequence; not just high command, the Commander himself.

X X X

"I don't want any excuses! Get back here and report in person!" Red yelled into the phone before slamming it down.

"Silver defeated in one-on-one combat by an unknown, stunning," Black said. The command chamber was abuzz with activity, everyone but Black and the bear officer in charge of operations in the room trying to not notice the Commander's flaring temper.

"What's stunning is that I ever thought a schoolyard bully like Silver had the right stuff for commanding a Corps. Prepare a firing squad for his arrival. I want a proper report on what happened out there, but that's the last service he'll do for the Red Ribbon Army."

"Understood, sir," Black said.

"…Don't stand so close to me," Red snapped to the taller man, who took three steps back obediently.

"Commander sir, based on tracking the enemies' stolen Dragon Ball, we have concluded they are heading toward General White's base, the Muscle Tower."

"White… a Dragon Ball pops up in his backyard and he still can't find it," Red growls.

"We've controlled that sector from Muscle Tower for three years now, but other than collecting taxes and the occasional slave labor from the locals, it's mostly weapons testing. Not much infrastructure on our part outside of the tower itself," Black pointed out.

"Has White put those yokels to work finding my Dragon Ball?" Red demanded.

"Yes, apparently everything but women and children. Even one of the Androids has been assigned, though I seem to recall it started malfunctioning. Dr. Vomi should be on site to repair it," Black reported.

"Gero couldn't be bothered to go himself so he sends his nerd bimbo instead?" Red grated.

"Dr. Gero is preoccupied working on the Number 9 model android sir, per your orders."

"Bah, the 7 seemed to work alright. And it sounds like he couldn't get 8 to work for a crap if a little snow made it go haywire. But never mind that money-guzzling egghead. Tell White he's got trouble coming his way. His orders are to recapture the Dragon Ball and kill those two."

"Sir, shouldn't we try and capture one for questioning? If King Furry or some other organization is making a move…" Black suggested.

"Once I get my wish, it won't matter what anyone else is doing. My destiny, and the Red Ribbon Army's, will be secure. So, I want those two wiped out! Tell White I don't care if he has to set that snowfield ablaze and sacrifice every peasant, soldier, android or egghead on site. So long as he comes back with those Dragon Balls, it's our win!"

X X X

Chichi sighed, pushing her chair back from the desk. Rubbing her forehead, she could imagine her head throbbing.

Her room in the newly rebuilt castle was luxurious, and her possessions from the old home during the fire had been moved here in addition to new nice but impersonal decorations. Her old armor was propped up on a rack in a corner. She walked over to it and looked down on it. She'd outgrown it. That felt odd, knowing that.

She'd outgrown the gi Launch made too, with her latest growth spurt.

Likewise, her homecoming didn't really fit. Her father was now caught up in being a good king, which meant lots of meetings, inspections, and other things. The new castle was a posh and classical building in the center of the rebuilt town, with two stories and a nice green and white coloring theme, but it was still a new place.

While she'd been a princess before, that had been a vague role where her father had mostly let her do as she pleased, so long as she stayed in the rules of the household. She'd still been such a kid then that amusing herself had been pretty easy, or so she recalled. But now she was expected to live up to not only a future role as queen, but now as princess. Her father had hired a special tutor for princess stuff right from the royal city of the High King himself. She'd never seen a wrinklier woman, or one with higher expectations.

It wasn't that Chichi objected to high expectations. Her new Chinese-style dresses she actually quite liked. And she'd concede her table manners needed polishing, though that was an oddly difficult battle she thought, tail swishing.

No, it wasn't that she was being suffocated by this place or the role. It was like she was wearing shoes that didn't fit right.

She didn't mind studying, but she'd like to do it a bit less, for instance. Chichi made a note that when she had children, while their education would be important, she'd have it broken up with other activities.

And likewise, if she had to be a role model as princess for the other classes, couldn't that involve things like training for fitness and empowerment? And rather than obsess over her admittedly bad table manners, couldn't she get appreciation for her quick mastery of the proper poise, posture, walk, etc.? Why, she'd even made her tail elegantly fit the image of royalty with an adorable silk bow.

Yes, it wasn't that the situation was terrible, just a bit too much of this and too much of that. And talking to her father yielded little results, because of that stupid book he was so trusting in.

"And I forgot what it was like to not have friends," she admitted.

Yeah, being the daughter of the feared Ox King and Good King Ox King had that in common. An unspoken barrier separated her from not just people her age, but also dictated how everyone else acted around her.

"I wonder what everyone else is doing now?" Chichi wondered, opening her window to feel the breeze and take a deep breath of the fresh air.

X X X

"I'll give you credit, head monk, you were stronger than I expected," Krillin said, as the head monk of Orrin Temple picked himself up from the arena in the training hall.

The man was on the far side of middle-aged, but still had the strong limbs and deep chest of one who had trained their body long and well. Unlike the students, there was more orange than yellow in his uniform, and he wore a medallion signifying his office as head of the temple.

He looked at Krillin now, as the instructors and students looking on muttered or glared in silent anger.

"It really is true, you did study under the Invincible One."

"Oh, so now you believe?" Krillin asked, crossing his arms. The head monk nodded.

"Who else could take you from the bottom to the top of the temple so quickly? I was wrong to doubt you."

"Actually, I bet there are plenty who could do that. The guy who beat me, Jackie Chun, might rival Master Roshi in strength, and Master Roshi made it very clear we should always assume someone out there is better than us. I was taught in this temple removing distractions and petty concerns of the outside world was a key to obtaining a path to power. But that wasn't what I learned at all this last year. We might have been apart from society in many ways, but we were socializing neighbors, doing work for others, eating with them. There was no need for walls or anything. I thought deep down the problem was me, and I needed nothing less than the best teacher to become someone worthwhile. I'm grateful for the teacher I found being so great, but I'm done blaming myself for this place's failures."

That shut up the crowd. Thankfully, the head monk just closed his eyes and nodded.

"You have defeated the top students, the instructors, and the head monk before witnesses in accordance with rules and tradition, Krillin. You now have the right to take my place as head of the temple. I regret that we have fallen so far under my stewardship, but I can yield smiling, knowing you will pass on the wisdom and might you have gained to future students."

"Well, you can stop smiling. I hate this place, and I don't want it."

"What?" the monk's eyes widened.

"I didn't come here to save your jerk students from being punks or to stop you from being an ostrich that ignores your problems, hoping something or someone else will fix them if you just hold out a little longer. I won't call you master anymore, head monk; you turned a deaf ear to my suffering and my pleas, all but telling me I just needed to try harder when this place was grinding me down. You even sent the worst of this lot to the Budokai just because they intimidated everyone else into not stepping forward for that honor. I can't believe you're too stupid not to see that, so I guess in the end you just didn't care enough to stop it."

"Krillin, a teacher points the way, but he cannot force-"

"People to act with basic decency, much less live up to those teachings you practically write on the wall? Master Roshi might be willing to teach thugs, but he didn't split hairs on how hard he'd come down on them if they used his teachings to be worse thugs. I lived here for eight years, but it was never a home; I can't think of one truly good memory of this place or the people here. I'm not taking your spot, but as is my right, I'm taking your official emblem. You don't deserve to display something like that with pride."

"Krillin! You would disgrace the temple and everyone-"

"Yes! But I'm only showing people a bit of what a disgrace you guys actually are. But you know what? I was on my way to being as bad as you all. I didn't run away because I was some moral paragon, I did it to get strong and come back for revenge. But you guys aren't worth it, I only came back to put you behind me. If you want your emblem back, I'm going to leave it with Master Roshi; if you can convince him that you deserve it back, you can have it. But I hope to never see any of you or this place ever again," Krillin told them all.

He turned his back on the head monk, and with calm ease leapt over the crowd to the entrance. No one challenged him as he walked out of sight, and they heard the faint sound of metal sliding on stone and knew he was taking the emblem.

After they heard the temple door open and close, they slowly dispersed. The head monk was the last to leave.

After that day, conditions in the Orrin Temple slowly began to improve.

X X X

Red Ribbon High Command was designed to resemble a castle. The official line was that the archaic design showed confidence, as the surface-to-air defense system, air force, and armored corps on site meant the base itself would never have to weather modern siege. Silver assumed it was actually because Commander Red envied the King's castle in the capital and wanted one of his own while waiting to conquer the real deal.

Getting out of the jet that had arrived here so quickly, Silver wasted no time in walking off the airstrip, a quartet of troops awaiting him.

"Colonel Silver, Commander Red has ordered you to attend to him immediately."

"I am, as ever, ready to comply with his orders," Silver answered, noting how they boxed him in more like a prisoner escort than an honor guard befitting a returning officer.

The room the Commander received him in certainly fit more with a palace than an army base. Not that Silver minded the sheer luxury, as it was all part of the RRA's point; if the Commander wanted to use his power to act like a king and live like one, that was his right as the one who held the power.

The man was getting a shave, attended to by four young men in suits, for what should have been a one man job. That was just strange.

"Your report, in full detail," Staff Officer Black commanded, standing to the side of the Commander's chair, a stenographer sitting at the ready in the corner. Silver recounted the incident, seeking to give every detail. He didn't bother with any embellishments, despite the stakes; after all, he couldn't dress up the fact he was beaten and robbed by a child and a woman on a high-priority mission.

Commander Red finally sat up, rubbing his face with an offered towel.

"So in short, you completely blew it. Even after I'd just told you what the penalty for failure was. Those two have the Dragon Ball and are en route to Muscle Tower. A new little war seems to have begun, and you lost us the first battle."

"I will make it up to you. Give me a second chance, I will not underestimate those two again, I will triumph or die."

"Why should I give you a chance to fail again. Black!"

"Understood, sir. Guards, take Colonel Silver to the firing squad, post haste," Black commanded. The guards looked to him, and Black gave a small nod while Red's attendants drew pistols, making clear what would happen right now if Silver resisted.

The Colonel tensed, fists clenched, but looked at Black and let his hands be pulled behind his back to be marched away in cuffs.

"I'll get Colonel Mustard on the task of profiling those two right away," Black said to Commander Red as the Commander stood up.

"Don't bother. We've already ordered White to blow that plane out of the sky. Even if they survive that, the Corps at Muscle Tower is much stronger. What we need is to step up our efforts before more enemy agents make their moves. Silver can do us one final service, as a reminder that rank doesn't insulate you from the price of failure," Red said, lighting a cigar.

Later:

The door with the barred window unlocked with a clank and slowly swung open, revealing Staff Officer Black framed in the doorway, as impeccably dressed as ever. Stepping into the concrete cell adorned with only a waste bucket and a moldy cot bolted to the wall, he looked at the man sitting on the cot, hands now clapped in irons and resting on his knees.

The irons on Silver's legs clanked a bit as he shifted to look at his visitor.

"I take it you're the reason I'm not dead yet?" Silver asked.

"Correct. I think you are more useful to the Red Ribbon Army alive than dead," Black answered bluntly. Silver gave a humorless smile.

"So it's true what they whisper, Commander Red may be the head of this army but you're the neck, overlooked even as you decide which way the head points."

"Nothing quite so dramatic. I merely do my duty, and that includes at times curbing my superior's excesses for the good of him and the organization. Colonel Mustard," Black said, stepping aside. A portly man in a black uniform with gold trim entered. He had bright blonde hair in an ugly combover, and an impressive handlebar mustache of the same color under squinting eyes.

"You're seen better days, Colonel Silver. Perhaps you should have worn a shirt? It does get cold down here."

"The Chief of Staff and the Head of the Intelligence division. I wish I'd known I was going to have such guests; I would have put out some good wine and a bit of cheese and crackers," Silver remarked.

"Ha! I do like dealing with men not intimidated easily. They're so much more fun when they break, unlike the dogs who roll over at the first raised voice," Mustard chuckled, his smile showing off a lot of teeth.

"Show him," Black commanded, not moving from his post or raising his voice. He got instant results as Mustard walked up to Silver and opened a folder he had been carrying. Paper-clipped on top of the documents in the folder were two pictures.

"That's the brat. But not the girl," Silver said, pointing to the two pictures of Goku and Launch.

"You're sure?" Mustard insisted.

"I won't forget that boy anytime soon. But this girl… I heard she changed her hair, but this is more than that. The eye color, the expression. Her sister maybe, but these are different people," Silver said, eyes narrowed at the contents, "Who are they?"

"You don't get to make demands," Mustard told him.

"Son Goku is the boy's name, Launch is the only name we have for the blonde. Though apparently the other girl is Lunch. The uniforms gave Mustard a thread to follow," Black told Silver.

"These pictures are simple clippings from World Fighter Magazine, their special on the 21st Budokai. Launch being the newest champion and that boy a runner-up. Allegedly they studied under the Turtle Hermit."

"And I'm the son of King Piccolo," Silver huffed.

"Ha, good to see not all the younger generation are ignorant of the past. But get this, witnesses attest to superhuman feats from both. Laser beams out of hands, speed so quick the eye can't track it. And apparently the Muten Roshi himself put in an appearance to advise the tournament supervisors on their latest reforms. Whether it's really the legendary God of Martial Arts or not, these two are something special," Mustard explained, flipping through the file.

"In other words, it seems rather than failing due to a fault of your own, you simply got unlucky," Black stated.

"…if you were going to reinstate me, you'd be telling the Commander this," Silver stated.

"He will hear it soon enough. Whether he will heed it, is not your problem," Black stated.

"So, now what, Staff Officer?" Silver asked.

"You have a choice. I'd hate to see a good soldier be wasted so frivolously, but my system is dependent on the Commander believing all his commands are obeyed without question. He can be quite astute to spotting details, despite his other flaws. So, keeping you around under a new name and haircut is too risky. However, Dr. Gero has, after several setbacks in the Android program, been shifting his focus to cyberization for quicker results on super soldiers. Prisoner guinea pigs will only go so far, he needs subjects of peak physical condition, and who can be trusted not to rampage at the first opportunity."

"That's your offer, become a guinea pig for R&D?" Silver seethed.

"If you survive, I can spin it to Commander Red as you having unexpectedly survived what was meant as execution by being a lab rat. If Gero delivers on the power he promises, the Commander will definitely give you a chance to redeem yourself as a cyborg. You might even become a General."

"Or I could become a corpse, or a remote controlled-wretch being driven like a toy car by Gero or the Commander, with nothing to do but scream inside my skull."

"If you prefer to keep your dignity, the firing squad is ready and willing," Mustard pointed out, prompting Black to frown at him.

"Fine, it's not the first time I wagered my life on a throw of the dice."

"Excellent. Guard, release his shackles, he's got a trip to make to Gero's offsite laboratory," Black said, leaving the cell.

Author's Note:

And now we really get things rolling. The Red Ribbon Saga was fun to write abd I hope you find it fun to read. I hope you are all enjoying the holiday season. I know it can be rough too, particularly when it reminds us of those who have gone on ahead. So whether its going well or leaving you feeling down, I wish you long days and pleasant nights.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and to see you next week!