Dragon Ball RP, Chapter 1 - Hilariously Derailing One-Liner

[POS Industries]

She had quickly lost track of how long they'd been driving. There wasn't much talking, though it sounded like Cherry was sobbing, and the bag over her head was itchy. And it smelled like potatoes. And now she was hungry. Maybe they'd stop for some fries? She was about to ask before she felt the van come to a halt and could hear the door open, a hand grabbing her roughly and pulling her out. Cherry was crying louder now.

"Where are you taking us?" another frantic voice piped up. Valencia's. "Why are you doing th--"

A low, growling voice cut her off, "That ain't for you to know, now get movin'!"

Her hands were tied up. Pointless, though it was probably hurting the others. No sense in doing anything about it, though. She made a promise, and she wasn't going to break it. Granted, it seemed kinda stupid to be keeping it, now that she really thought about it, but "under no circumstances" meant "under no circumstances," and she wasn't about to lose her job over something like this. At least not until she thought she had a chance of getting away with it.

But waiting is hard. And boring. And she was still hungry. And where are those fries?

Suddenly, the sack was pulled off her head and she adjusted to the light. Looks like a warehouse. Of course it's a warehouse. Bad guys always hide out in warehouses. Or abandoned factories. Or abandoned amusement parks. Or warehouses for abandoned factories that produce abandoned amusement parks! Or... wait. Getting off track.

She saw about a dozen guys around her. Mostly humans, a couple dogs and pigs. All had guns, though some of them looked like the probably didn't need them too often. Probably not a high school diploma between the lot of them. Cherry and Valencia were huddled together to her left and... yep. Cherry was still crying. She does that. Can't blame her.

"Aw yeah, there they are! Good work, boys!" a nasally voice echoed through the room. A short, squat fellow in the ugliest green suit she ever saw waddled in, taking a puff from his cigar. To his right was a much larger man. Maybe seven feet tall, head shaven, expensive suit, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He had the rugged, hardened look of some kind of ex-mercenary now dabbling in the bodyguard trade. She could see the gun holstered inside his jacket, though the feeling she got from him let her know he definitely didn't need it.

"Ohhh... Big!" she blurted out, eyes squinted into slits by the broad smile that seemed to perpetually cover her face. The other girls looked at her, baffled by her attitude given the circumstances.

"You better believe he is, sister!" the boss laughed, "So don't try anything funny. You just sit here, we get in touch with your boss, and so long as he plays ball, you get to go home safe and sound. But if don't, well... I certainly can't be held responsible for the consequences."

Sala sighed quietly to herself behind the smile. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

West City. The biggest megalopolis on Earth.

The offices of Fajita Sizzle Records was in a panic, not that they had any intention of letting the press know about it. Police were a different sort of guest than the producers, executives, and cavalcade of pretty faces masquerading as "artists" that normally paraded around place. So were the band of hired hooligans that were now being invited to the CEO's office.

Felix Fajita sat behind his desk, a lean, tanned man in a white suit with his long, blond hair tied in a ponytail. He greeted his new prospective employees with a smooth, confident voice, "Welcome, friends! I trust you had no trouble at the front desk? Rest assured, I am more than pleased you were all able to find the job offer and I'm sure we'll all find this exciting new business opportunity mutually beneficial."

He nodded to the receptionist as she closed the door, his voice growing quieter. "It was come to our attention that one of our top acts, Team Three Star, has been kidnapped. While we are happy with any assistance provided by law enforcement," he glanced at the android policeman by the wall to his right, "We at Fajita Sizzle Records believe that some... outside private intervention might be in our best interests financially. I'm sure you all understand perfectly, as well as understand our desire to keep this quiet for the time being, yes?"