"It seems neither contestant can contain themselves," the Grand Minster proclaimed neutrally from above and held his hand high. "Then let the second match of the Tournament of Time commence!"

He didn't care to observe how the fight between the two Vegeta's was going to progress in the next few moments, for he sincerely doubted it would be over for some time yet given the presumed tenacity of both warriors. The Grand Minister instead floated up once again towards the direction of Grand Zeno's palace above. There were various other duties he still had to attend to at this Tournament of Time beyond simply officiating the matchups; attending to the God of All's needs being his chief concern, amongst all of his other worries.

Seven Grand Zeno's… all of which required his undivided attention.

And an ongoing Tournament, which also required his undivided attention.

The Grand Minister didn't even think it was possible, but it seemed that even divine beings such as himself had limits to their patience.

At the Tournament of Power, some years ago now, while he essentially served the same functions as he had now, at the very least that event had been contained to their own Multivere and only concerned a handful of mortals to accommodate. All of which he was already comfortable in doing. He may have been slightly unfamiliar in his engagements with mortals, as that was more a function of the Kai's and the Destroyers to perform, but he thought he had managed quite well all things considered. And the Tournament had been an unmitigated success by its conclusion.

Whereas now he was surrounded by them on all sides, as well as deities both familiar and diverse. There were even some of his own children amongst them, all of whom were curiously unfamiliar. And while these peculiarities were easily dispensed with, he nevertheless found himself feeling uneasy… inadequate.

"It appears I have encountered a difficulty…"

He reflected on his performance thus far in the days since passed. He was slower in responding to his King than he would have liked. When contestants had been downed he had been hesitant to start counting. When he would address the audience, there were some who did not immediately respond with their undivided attention.

This was not proper, not up to the exceptionally high standards he placed upon himself. Grand Zeno deserved no better than perfection itself after all, as befitting of a being of his majesty. And the Grand Minister was not convinced he could provide that as things currently stood.

But what exactly was the root cause of his concerns? He was comfortable in his status. He was content in his approaches towards Grand Zeno, even if there were currently several more of the King in attendance to cater towards. Thus, the Tournament of the Time itself was the irregularity it seemed, the oddity that he had to contend with; the second ever Tournament he had ever been a part of in all of his long eons of existence.

"Inexperience, how peculiar a feeling."

As simple an explanation as that perhaps? That he was inexperienced in officiating a Tournament? He chuckled to himself, titillated by the unfamiliar feeling. "It seems events like these provide a learning experience both in and outside of the ring."

If it was as simple as that, that his concerns of inadequacy stemmed from his role within this Tournament, then the next question was just as simple; how would he go about resolving this problem? A resolution that would allow for the Tournament to continue unimpeded but also free up his own time to better attend to the Grand Zenos, as was his first and most important priority. That seemed like the most ideal solution; if he considered himself outside of his depth in officiating the matches, then the next logical step was to delegate this task to someone more suited for the role.

So what the Grand Minister needed was someone more acquainted with Tournaments than himself. Someone who could assist in the continued execution of the event and not simply in its facilitation.

And he already knew where to start looking.

As he understood it, Tournaments were a favorable mortal passtime within Universe 7 and a particular favorite on the Planet Earth, and fortunately for the Grand Minister there was already an Angel present who was quite acquainted with that specific Universe and its designated inhabitants; to the extend he would perhaps be able to provide some much sought after answers.

"Whis, a moment of your time please…"

- DB DBZ DBS DBGT -

"At once," Whis rose, and a second later he began to ascend quickly out of view.

"Whis, pass the hotdogs…" Beerus mumbled out whilst he continued to intently stare down at the battle in progress below. Both Vegeta's had just turned into a Super Saiyan, and Beerus was frankly too interested to turn away. Neither were his and yet he was invested all the same. "Whis?"

It was Elder Kai who responded once Beerus finally came to realize that his attendant had vanished after several more moments with no reply. "He's been summoned away! Only the Grand Minister or Grand Zeno himself can make such an order." The Kai clenched his fists tight and shook in alarm. "But why now? For what reason? Only the greatest of calamities are times for the angels to be called forth alone! What manner of horror has Whis been summoned to confront!?"

Up above, concealed behind the palace of Grand Zeno, Whis was being informed of his heinous task.

"Say again, Father?"

"I was hoping you could find us a new Tournament officiator," the Grand Minister laughed in self deprecation. "I'm 'at my wits end' I believe is the expression."

"So I gather," Whis blinked, coughed, and then composed himself. It was exceedingly rare for him to be summoned away in absence of Lord Beerus, and frankly he was expecting it to be for something far less… trivial.

"But why entrust me with such a task? I'm hardly experienced myself with the practicalities of Tournaments so I would be an unsuitable replacement. Perhaps Vados would be of more help? I believe she undertook many of the preparations for Lord Champa's Tournament of Destroyers, and that event was enough to attract even Grand Zeno's attention."

"Indeed, I had considered that," the Minister replied, swift and cool. "However, given that this Tournament is more akin to the ones that are performed by the mortals of Planet Earth, I was thinking that perhaps one of their own would be a better fit, rather than one of us." He smiled keenly. "A more 'down to Earth' perspective would be beneficial in my view."

"You wish me to find a mortal?" Whis asked with a raised brow. "A bold step if I may. What was Grand Zeno's view of the situation?"

"He is delighted by the idea. The role of the divine within this Tournament is already somewhat limited, and each Grand Zeno is quite content for a willing mortal to undertake the role of officiating the matches in my stead." He tilted his head. "And not simply for my benefit I can assure you. Rest assured I am not simply abandoning my post, but a more… accustomed set of eyes would not go unwelcome."

"I understand," Whis replied simply. "Grand Zeno desires a mortal with Tournament experience to officiate the matches? Then the simplest option would be to ask Goku for his assistance. He is well acquainted with them from his youth."

The Grand Minister gave an unreadable smile, and Whis was struck with inspiration.

"Though having considered it, there is another who could lend us a hand..."

- DB DBZ DBS DBGT -

"You want me to do whut?"

"I explained myself quite clearly, Hercule, must I really do so again?"

Minutes later, Whis had been swift to undertake his task, and had thought of a solution before his conversation with the Grand Minister had even finished. Given Goku was an active participant in the Tournament already, Whis reasoned the Saiyan was preoccupied enough as it is and could do without another additional task to perform. Luckily for Whis however, his Universe contained many more Tournament goers than Goku alone, and he just so happened to be acquainted with the reigning Champion himself.

After whisking away the somewhat aged Mr. Satan to a quieter area in one of the many stairways littered throughout the arena, Whis made his position plain.

"Right right, you want a new Tournament official to sub out with your dad and referee the matches." Hercule rubbed his bald spot in contemplation, before placing his hands to his hips and striking a pose. "Well you came to the right person, Whis, my man! The World Champion is more than up for the job!"

"Please no," Whis deadpanned, clearly used to the man's theatrics by now after having tolerated them for many long years. He coughed to conceal his change in composure. "By that I mean 'Thank you very much for offering but that will not be necessary'. I came to you, Hercule, because, as I understand it, you are well acquainted with the Tournament scene on your planet. I was hoping you would know of an appropriate candidate with a suitable level of expertise who could take over." Whis paused. "Your own experience seems to be more 'in the ring' rather than outside it."

Hercule deflated slightly, scratched his stubble and considered his words carefully. "Right… less showmanship, more sportsmanship."

"It's nothing too complicated mind you," Whis stated, almost dismissively. "We simply need someone who can count to thirty, follow the rules and has a decent level of public speaking ability. Surely there must be somebody in your entourage who could-"

"Not too complicated!?" Hercule proclaimed, exaggeratedly dismayed. "Why, hosting a match is just as important as fighting in it! You gotta keep the audience engaged. Clue them in on the know how and trivia! If the contestants are the stars then the host is the one who has to keep them shining!" He clenched his fist with surprising determination. "The lynchpin that keeps it all from toppling down!"

Whis felt his brow involuntarily rise, he rarely heard Hercule speak with such genuine conviction. "It seems you might be the right man for the job after all, Hercule. Your 'down to Earth' perspective may be exactly what we are looking for." Whis tilted his head. "Would you like to take over?"

"Urr," Hercule mumbled out, suddenly sucked of all his bravado. "No thanks, like you said, more experienced outside the ring I am, yes sir!" He struck another audacious pose, shakily. "But I have been in the Tournament racket for a long time now, I've picked up a few contacts. Just let me think…"

Hercule turned away, closing his eyes with a thumb to his chin. Whis watched him expectantly. "Let's see… Jimmy owes me a few favors, but he's with a new network now. Piiza might have some names on the cards who could do with some exposure… but she's always pushing for contracted weirdos to suck up to the marketing guys. We need professionalism for a Tournament like this! Someone with real, genuine passion for the job."

Whis checked his non-existent watch, half wondering if he should just leave this Mr. Satan rambling and go recruit the Mr. Satan of Timeline 2 to his side instead. Before he could elaborate his thoughts however, Hercule turned back to him with pizazz and grinned up at him proudly.

"I've got it!" He clapped his palms together. "There's only one guy on Earth who's up for a job like this! Whis, we're going to Papaya Island!"

- DB DBZ DBS DBGT -

"This ain't Papaya Island…"

"I am not a map, Hercule, I travel by energy signature, not landmarks."

Whis may have been able to teleport between the Null Realm and Universe 7 at will, but that didn't mean he could pinpoint the exact place to appear by its name alone. Instead it could only be to somewhere he had either been before or was readily familiar with; in this instance being the back lawn of the Capsule Corporation where they had originally departed from.

"Well we'd best get a move on then! Papaya Island is way down south from here." Hercule adjusted his non-existent gloves. "I've got the fastest Capsule plane on the market, should only take us a few hours! Shame that we'll probably miss a round or two though, I just hope we're back before Gohan gets to fight." He almost appeared to swoon. "Oh he is just the best son in law a man could hope for, there's no one better for my little girl!"

Whis appeared unfazed and ignored Hercule's proclamations. "We'll travel via myself, at worst we'll only miss part of the current match. Depending on how long we take." He checked the orb of his staff, Hercule looking up at him befuddled. Back in the arena, each Vegeta seemed to be in the middle of charging their trademarked Galick Gun attack. "I'll show you the highlights later. For now let's just get a move on, place a hand on my back please."

With an uneasy raise of his arm, Hercule complied. "Right um, here okay?" He placed his hand on the middle of Whis' back. "Or a little lower…" He adjusted his touch.

"That will be just fine, thank you." Whis hurried out, before beginning to glow an ethereal white. "Papaya Island to the south you said?" He turned his head left and concentrated for but a moment, sensing a collection of mortal energies. "We shall start there."

An instant later they were gone, and just as quickly their surroundings were replaced by a bustling metropolis in the early morning light.

Hercule looked around in a dumbfound panic. "Whoa, where'd we go? Did you do that instant translocation thingy?"

"Instant transmission and no, I simply flew us here at the speed of light. Earth is comparatively small compared to most planets so to one like yourself the change appears more or less instantaneous." Whis looked around ponderously. "Now then, is this Papaya Island?"

Hercule's head darted back and forth, with several passersby starting to become aware of the presence of the World Champion. On instinct he waved in response to their gleeful pointing and surprised exclamations. "Looks more like South City I think. Need to go a bit further down. I think it's uh…" He paused, looking around for any landmarks he could recognise, South City was a popular layover for those traveling to Papaya Island so they were in fact quite close already. He looked to the west. "That way! There should be an Island with a town on it."

"Very helpful, thank you." Whis replied as he looked in the indicated direction. Just as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone again. Their surroundings now being replaced by a collection of capsule buildings on one side and a beachfront resort on the other; all visible once the white glow around them faded.

What peaked Whis' curiosity however was the large concrete structure visible even now within the center of the small city. An obvious landmark to the coast side settlement. "Ah yes, I remember now. Goku has spoken very fondly of this place."

"Ha! Course he has, this is the town where Champions are made, home of the World Martial Arts Tournament!"

Indeed it was; the duo were standing just beyond the outskirts of the World Tournament arena itself, currently closed but there was enough evidence present to indicate the last event had been quite recent. Several markees and stands were still on display, although there were currently no tourists to accompany them.

"The 31st World Martial Arts Tournament was only a few weeks back, and Grandfather and Granddaughter are still the reigning World Champions!" He struck a proud pose again, even though Whis was his only audience. "Junior and adult divisions you see."

"Yourself and Pan you mean," Whis responded in vague interest. "Yes, Goku has mentioned these Tournaments to me, some of his earliest battles took place here as I understand it."

"Exactly, it's your one stop shop for all your Tournament needs! Officials included." Hercule looked around once again, and it was apparent he was quite familiar with this particular location. "In fact, knowing him, he should be around here somewhere."

"You have someone specific in mind then?" Whis asked with renewed enthusiasm, looking down to Hercule once again. "Pray tell, who might they be? Someone related to this Martial Arts Tournament perhaps?" Whis asked, with a head gesture towards the large stadium.

"It would be underselling it to say that there is no World Martial Arts Tournament without this guy, he's been on the scene since I was a kid!" Hercule rubbed his bald spot again, self consciously. "God help us if he ever decides to retire, this guy is pretty much irreplaceable."

"Reassuring," Whis stated genuinely. "Sounds like just the person we need, is he close?"

"He likes to take extended vacations here once each Tournament is over, so he should still be around. There's some great resorts around here, I've even got some franchise deals with some of them." By now he had started to walk along the pavement adjacent to the beach, with Whis following swiftly behind him in the shade of the palm trees. "But knowing him, he'll be… there!" He pointed ahead, to what Whis would describe as a cozy, luxurious, beachfront penthouse. "Basically his second home, this gig rakes in the Zeni."

"Charming," Whis responded monotonously. Hercule blinked, he always found the Angel difficult to read; a walking, talking enigma.

"Uh, anyway. I'll go ring the bell, let me do the talking okay? He might take some convincing to cut his break short." Hercule took charge and marched forwards and up the steps, with Whis following a short distance behind. There was a sequence of elaborate knocks upon the door then, far more than Whis considered necessary.

They each heard casual footsteps then, which was followed up by the door swinging inwards and a blonde haired man with a thin mustache and receding hairline taking in the sight of his company behind the tint of his sunglasses. His smile was immediate.

"Mark! What a pleasant surprise, what brings you here in the off-season?"

Hercule responded with his usual grin and audacious laugh, while Whis simply raised his brow again in genuine befuddlement. "Mark?" He looked down to Hercule, it was him being greeted after all. "I thought your name was Hercule?"

"It is, in most jurisdictions," Hercule, or Mark, responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Hercule tested better with the younger demographics, I mainly go by Satan now anyway." His face went blank for a moment. "Real name's Mark, but that doesn't have the 'oomph' for this line of work."

"I feel as if I should be offended…" Whis mused, pondering the implications of declaring oneself as 'Satan' in the presence of an actual deity.

The blonde man looked back and forth between Hercule and Whis for a moment and seemed to squint behind his glasses. "Everyone knows who Mark here is but who might you be, young lady?"

"Pardon?"

Hercule grumbled and coughed. "This fella Whis here is my… business associate, we have a proposition to discuss with you." He placed a hand on the blonde man's shoulder and led him back inside the retreat at his own invitation. "And you really need to get yourself a new prescription, dude, you can barely read the names off of the register some days." Hercule whispered pointedly.

"You know I hate the opticians," the man responded half in a whine and motioned towards his sunglasses. "And they don't have this style in stock anymore, I can't go messing with my image!"

Having followed the pair and shutting the door behind them, Whis took in the atmosphere of the otherwise pleasant holiday home they were currently in and situated himself close to the glass door to the beachfront balcony. "While I do hate to impose on you so early in the morning I'm afraid we are on a bit of a schedule. Just for clarity my name is Whis, and you are…?"

The blonde man blinked and stood up straight. "Straight to business then? I'm-"

"Just the guy we need!" Hercule interrupted, clamping his hand on the man's shoulder and swiveling them both to face Whis. "This here is the best Tournament Announcer in the business. With decades of experience and a spotless attendance record! Just the person to make that Grand Zeno guy happy!"

Whis shook his head slightly at the bluster on display, whilst the Announcer looked to Hercule with a surprised but complacent stare. "A gig then?" He stepped away and walked over to a nearby drinks cabinet. "Color me stoked. But it's not like you to house call though, Mark. Is it a special occasion? A charity exhibition or something?" He started to pour several different coloured vials to make a purplish mixture in a glass.

"A special occasion unlike any other. The biggest gig of your career I assure you!" His face suddenly became neutral. "Also it ain't even lunch yet, dude, aren't you starting a little early?" He motioned to the glass now held in the Announcer's hand.

"It's a virgin."

"Oh, carry on then."

And so he did, but not before fixing one for Hercule also. He offered another to Whis who politely declined. "Biggest gig of my career you say? Okay I'll bite. What date and time?" He sipped his drink.

"This morning, about two hours ago." Whis replied.

The drink was spat out in a purplish mist. "You kidding me?" He exclaimed in dismay and looked towards Hercule with an admonished glare. "Come on, Mark, you could have called ahead you know. I can't say yes to an event that's already underway! I don't even know what it is yet!"

"Come on, man, you're the only guy for this!" Hercule pleaded, and then his expression hardened. "We're on a mission from God."

"This isn't another follow up to 'Mr. Satan verses God of Destruction Beebus' is it?"

"He's being quite literal I assure you," Whis cut in smoothly.

The Announcer rubbed his face and shook his head. In that moment he felt as if his age was on full display. "Sorry, Mark. I'm on vacation. The last Tournament just finished and you know how I like my downtime. I'm thankful for the offer, really. But it's just a bit too little too late I'm afraid. Apologies."

Hercule seemed to sulk, but he wasn't one to back out of negotiations before all his cards were on the table. He looked to Whis, who returned his stare with an expectant look. He decided to appeal to emotion, that tended to work in his favor he found. "You wouldn't leave your old pal Mark hanging like this would you?" He adopted a pleading expression. "No Tournament is complete without the star of the show! All the other preparations are already taken care of, it's just the organizers are a bit amateurish. If I had been involved from the start none of this would have happened and you'd be on site with time to spare!"

Whis felt his eye twitch, such a claim was essentially blasphemous.

If anything however, the mention of Tournaments seemed to just make the Announcer deflate even further. "A tournament you say?" His eyes widened for a moment and then shrank. "In that case it's a hard pass. I'll pitch in for a charity exhibition or a telethon expo. But I can't stomach another play-by-play of a Tournament so soon after the last." He sipped his drink again. "Do it too much and it starts to become stale. Don't get me wrong I love the job, but some of the contenders we get... cringeworthy I tell ya."

Hercule grumbled to himself again. It was pretty much an open secret among everyone in their inner executive circle that the Announcer was, for lack of a better term, bored. He often went on about the 'good old days' where things were more exciting, frustratingly being before Mr. Satan had made his debut.

"Outside of yourself, and Ms. Pan that is," the Announcer suddenly continued, drawing Hercule and Whis' gazes again. "I could watch those highlights all day, those are the kind of matches you can write home about. You're no spring chicken, Mark, but that girl is something else I tell you. Did you see that move she used in the junior semi final? She must have leaped about a hundred feet in the air after that kick of hers!" He chuckled to himself. "That's Goku's granddaughter alright. You're in big trouble once she's old enough for the adult division."

"How fortuitous," Whis stated neutrally from his position at the windows, drawing eyes to him again. "Pan is one of the participants in the Tournament underway."

"She is?" Hercule stated dumbly.

"She is? The Announcer asked in interest.

"Oh yes." From another Timeline perhaps but that is academic. "As is the majority of the family. Goku, Gohan, et cetera. And several more who are on equal footing with them." Whis smirked knowingly. "You already seem to be aware that Goku and his associates are on a slightly different level than 'Mark' here if that appeases you." Whis paused and turned his head. "No offense intended."

"None taken," Hercule gruffed. "I get it."

Since they were both currently addressing the other, neither noticed the starry look the Announcer was overcome by. "Did you say Goku?" He gripped the arm of his seat. "There's a Tournament happening and Son Goku is participating?"

Whis and Hercule shared another look, turned back, and nodded simultaneously.

"Mark, you should have led with that!" The Announcer suddenly shot up and downed his drink. "Something spectacular happens at every Tournament Goku shows up at! And those fights…" He actually shuddered with anticipation. "I wouldn't miss this for the world! You want me to officiate for this Tournament? Then I'm in!" He slammed his glass down. "Give me five minutes and I'm out the door!"

"That concludes negotiations I guess," Whis said bemused as the Announcer ran towards his bedroom.

- DB DBZ DBS DBGT -

Six minutes later, the trio appeared with a flash within a stairway of the Tournament grounds. With Whis and Hercule now being accompanied by the World Tournament Announcer, clad in his pressed black suit and flashy pink shirt, with a red tie bringing it all together.

"Whoa, talk about gone in a flash! Beats the limo service any day." The Announcer looked around inquisitively. "Are we backstage? What's this Tournament called anyway?"

"The Tournament of Time," Whis proclaimed as he began to ascend the stairs with the others in tow. "I will fill you in on the necessary details shortly and bring you up to speed. Perhaps just take a moment to get accustomed." Whis glanced at his staff once more, and felt his lip twitch into an uneasy smile. "You may uh… be in for a shock."

"Why'd you make that sound so ominous…" Hercule despondently responded as he followed Whis into the light at the end of the tunnel and emerged into the stands of the arena. His eyes swiftly shrunk to the size of pinheads.

"Whis, is that a giant golden monkey man?"

A deafening roar from the gigantic creature was the response he received. Hercule then fell to the floor uncontested when the Announcer shoved past him and leapt onto the railing of the stands to peer downwards.

"Wow! You weren't kidding! This is just like the good old days! Giant Ape monsters and all!"

Whis looked up and smirked triumphantly; concluding that his father's task for him was now assuredly complete.