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?"

[Inbred Chocobo]

~Earlier Today~

"Chief, would you mind explaining why instead of other officers of the force, I'm going to be working with a bunch of goons that this Mr Fajita decided to throw money." Mack stated in the cramped little office. The door had already slammed behind them, so with the only noise in the office being the little fan in the room blowing air at the Chief while he was bent over his desk, the silent response that he gave at first set Mack on edge. The chief adjusted his glasses to finish reading whatever document he was pouring over, drawing out the seconds.

Finally, he leaned back, taking a good look at Mack. "There are quite a few reasons Officer McKinley. One, this issue needs to stay under wraps, as quiet as we can. This means the less people know about it, the less chance word has of getting out. Let's face it, we got a few people in here that would love to gossip about something like this to a reporter, and then we are going to have a serious public situation we don't need to deal with. Two, since I don't know who exactly they are hiring, I'm sending you as you are the most likely cop I have around that could handle himself in a situation without support, which if Fajita is right in that he knows who he is picking up, then it shouldn't matter, but I would like to hedge my bet. Third, because I told you. I believe you have somewhere to be in an hour, so I suggest you get moving Officer McKinley."

Mack walked out of the office, clearly unhappy with the fact that he is getting shoe-horned into what felt like a rodeo of exotic characters. As the door swung close he saw the chief looking back down as his papers, a look of annoyance on his face. Whether it was from the fact that Mack didn't like it, or if he didn't like the situation any better was hard to say. Still, Mack took a quick route home, getting into his street clothing, he really didn't need to draw much attention.

~In the office of the CEO~

He beat everyone there to the office, and after talking with the CEO, Felix explained that he would go into depth about the kidnapping once everyone was here, that way he wouldn't be repeating himself over 9000 times. Mack had agreed, and after a little bit of wait, and a cup of coffee, the group had arrived. Mack stood up, seemingly relaxed and uptight at the same time. He nodded towards the group as Felix introduced himself, but kept his mouth shut for the time being so he could hear the input the rest of the group had to play. If he was going to work with these people, first thing is first let's see what comes out of their mouth.

[mauve]

Most people would agree that pencils are not very good conversationalists. This mostly comes from a general lack of sentience on the part of the pencil. It's difficult for a small object made of tree guts stuffed with compressed minerals to care about much of anything enough to strike up a conversation.

One particular pencil on Mr. Fajita's desk, however, had quite a lot of distressing thoughts on its mind. Foremost was a deep concern about the sudden appearance of the aforementioned Mr. Fajita and his guests into an office which, by the pencil's calculations, should have remained deserted for at least another half hour. This definitely threw a proverbial monkey wrench into the pencil's plans, which, ironically, had nothing to do with being a pencil on the desk of a man who looked waaaaay too wealthy to even own a pencil.

Oh damn. thought the pencil. Oh damn oh damn oh damn oh why didn't I think of becoming a fancy pen?!

The sentient pencil was worried for his continued existance. Not, as one might expect from a writing implement, due to a deep seated fear of being sharpened or breaking, although the concern was indeed there, but from the fear of someone finding out that the pencil wasn't a pencil at all, but a smallish raccoon shapechanger who had up until this point been busy trying to figure out which fancy desk drawer to ransack first before anyone came back from lunch break.

Now there was a regular conference going on with Dango the Treasure Hunter hiding in plain sight in the middle of it all. Dango was not pleased.

Oh damn, he thought again. oh damn oh damn oh damn oh--wait, did he say Team Three Star? The thief was suddenly interested. Team Three Star was some teenybopper "music group," right? The ones who had their faces plastered on t-shirts, lunch boxes, breakfast cereals and collectible mugs, right? Dango smelled reward money.

Ok. Ok. He could make this work. All he had to do was get off this desk--somehow-- and sneak along after Team Rescue Squad here. Then all he'd have to do is watch for an opportunity to either A) steal their reward money for himself or B) join the gang of kidnappers and claim a share of the ransom money should Rescue Team Alpha here get destroyed.

Dango was a genius. Now all he had to do was pick one of these unsuspecting fools to tag along with.

[CABAL49]

Mori began to rub his scalp. With his free hand he gave a thumbs up to Mr. Fajita.

"Don't worry Mr. Fajita, I'll have them out of there in no time at all." He ended this with a wide smile.

What was going through his mind though was, OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT! I heard something about working with Team Three Star, that could have really made my career!

Calm down, you don't actually have to save them. Just get in an epic fight for the media to see, let the others handle the rest. Get hurt a little bit to excuse you from the main fighting. You are a professional, you know how to stage an injury. Let the heroes save the girl and use the publicity to launch your career!

His smile became bigger and more genuine.

[Red Mage Black]

If it wasn't for the fact his television broke, Kenny wouldn't have been here in the first place. He was missing valuable cartoon time and he had to cancel classes due to his bad mood. Luckily for his neighbors, the last few days had actually been peaceful for them with nothing breaking or falling off the walls.

"Team who now?" Kenny asked amidst the others hired. His eyes had been focused on one thing, that lone pencil on the desk. Something odd about it... something that was bugging him. Oh yeah, was that a number two or number three? His eyes glanced away from the desk and up towards the ceiling. He began to idly twist his pinky in there, wedging out a bit of nasty wax and flicking it away, probably to the chagrin of the others.

Why was he here again? All these people seemed rather odd and... wasn't he missing cartoons right about now? Oh yeah, the television is busted! Wait, how was I going to earn money for it? Right, that ad in the paper! Just one paycheck and I can actually afford something decent. This guy said it's a rescue mission right? Wait... rescue? That means clobbering thugs and being a hero, doesn't it? Quick! What would Mr. Satan do? What would Mr. Satan do? Despite it all in his thoughts, Kenny was visibly sweating and flailing his arms worriedly. Oh yeah! He would go in there, clobber the bad guys and walk away before the police showed up. Hey, isn't that guy on the right a police officer? Oh, it's just one. Right, the rescue mission. Modesty is key! We all beat up the bad guys and I hightail it out, leaving the rescued party wondering who that 'handsome devil in the stylish white headband was!'

With a huff and a puff, the psyched youth leaped on to the desk, pulled the white bandanna out and tied it on. "Worry not Mister..." He paused to look down at the placard on the desk before striking a heroic pose, hands on his hips and staring towards the wall dramatically as if looking into the great blue yonder. "Worry not Mr. Fajita! We shall rescue Team... Tree Star and restore rightful peace! For I, Kenneth Long, Master Martial Artist, pledge this so! ...and also because my tv is busted. I need the money."

[Overcast]

The doctor was not happy.

When he had gotten the call he had imagined he was hired all by his lonesome, he imagined this because he was certain that all anyone needed was him! To find that he was surrounded by other contracted work and a policeman irked him to no end, he did not like working with others, especially policemen! They stole all the thunder that his amazing technology had done to save the day, ESPECIALLY POLICEMEN! The press would eventually have piked this down as a daring rescue done by a dedicated police officer AND HIS POSSE. He was in huff in his chair, suitcase as always by his side, and could barely restrain himself from exploding everyone in the room and letting that be a message to anyone that tried to shortchange him as just some mercenary passerby! He finally could not stand it any longer as the men started trying to steal his thunder with pointless theatrical heroic speeches, and badly delivered he might add! He pounded his suitcase onto the table with an almost shocking THUMP. His eyes burning behind his thick glasses,

"Mr. Fajita I am outraged! I had thought that is was going to be a private exhibition of my systems, and instead I come to find that you are pairing me with a bunch of no name kipushers and the five O! The police force! FOR SHAME! How am I supposed to use my arsenal to reduce everything inside of the building, except the girls of course, to a fine bloody paste when I got the law breathing down my brilliance. I won't let the man keep me down sir! And these people, how am I supposed to properly exhibit my work when you bring people like this HMM?!?! This will not stand! I either demand a significant increase in pay or a press report agreement that all recognition will go exclusively to me!"

It was quite a bit to ask for, but Q didn't really understand the meaning of the word subtle so it was beyond it to try to explain the audacity he was expressing. Nor how saying such things in front of an officer of the law might implicate him as some sort of supervillain. Point being that if anyone was unsure of the kind of man that the Incomparable Doctor Q was before he spoke up, they were feeling it now.

[POS Industries]

"Doctor, I assure you that your services are the most important of all," Fajita said in a cool, soothing voice, rising from his seat, "After all, it will be your unmatched intellect and brilliant inventions that will allow us to even find our clients! There is no way we can do this without your valuable help. And believe me, there is no one whose gratitude a man looking to get his name out there wants more than the biggest promoter in the business!"

The business, of course, being 90% based around stroking the egos of prima donnas.

He sauntered out from behind his desk, picking up a pencil from his desk and twiddling it about casually as he got back on topic, his voice becoming more serious as he clicked on a television on the wall to his left, showing the image of three women: a winking redhead with her lips puckered, a blonde with her arms crossed giving a sultry pout, and a smiling blue majin holding out her fingers in a V.

"Now, let's get down to the matter at hand. Our clients--Cherry Garcia, Valencia l'Orangerie, and Sala Sweets--disappeared from a rehearsal session yesterday for a major award show this weekend. We later received a phone call informing us that they had been kidnapped and were being held for a rather... substantial ransom. We stand to lose millions in revenue if we miss this appearance, but that's nothing compared to what the kidnappers want."

Half his lip curled up in a slight grin, "So, we've decided to outsource. How does fifty thousand zeni to each of you for their safe return and an open door to do business in the future sound?"

[IHateMakingNames]

Icie didn't like his... assorted comrades. Then again, Icie wasn't a fan of Earthlings in general. What with their fancy ki techniques and ki sensing skills. Lousy humans. He'd rule them all some day.

But not today. Today Icie joined this merry band of hired rescuers for two reasons; money and training. He needed a good chunk of cash at the moment, and his fighting skills were getting rusty. There wouldn't be any world conquest if Icie didn't get stronger, let alone if he got weaker.

While the meeting went on and people were conversing, the estranged alien stood in the back and waited. He knew who they were since his roommate was a big fan of the group. However, he didn't really care about them or their safety. The fifty thousand zeni piqued his interest, but in a negative way.

"Fifty thousand? That's insulting!" Icie smashed his tail against the wall to make sure attention was on him.

"You would lose millions in revenue, and more from the ransom, yet we're only worth fifty thousand a head to save your stars? Future business is worthless unless we all want to form a fruity boy band! I demand higher pay!"

[Astral Harmony]

"Then you can have nearly all of mine," Robyn said to Icie. "All I need to last another good week is about one-thousand, so you can have the rest if that's what this gentleman needs to afford your immense talents."

Robyn wasn't being sarcastic. She only needed that much to survive and she was certain Icie would be quite useful to have along for the ride since they didn't know who or what they were going up against.

Besides, fifty-thousand zeni was couch change compaired to what the Vanillox family made from its numerous businesses per week. Robyn mindlessly picked up the rather out-of-place pencil in the office room. Then, she set it against her bowstring. To her surprise, the pencil did not transform into an arrow when readied.

Not bothering to figure out why, Robyn set the pencil back down again and faced Doctor Q. "So, uhhh...Doctor? The gentleman says you know how to find these missing...whatever it is these people do. No time to start like the present, right?"

[Overcast]

The good doctor sat back in his chair as his ego was gently caressed by the well dressed man. He was typically was smarter than to let him be so easily passified, but the prospect of proper representation was too tempting. He listened on as Fajita explained the situation in full, and as the objectives popped on the screen he took a moment to memorize them so non accidentally got shot, but as his processes began to fire he found something odd. Such so that he raised his hand to the generous young woman who had offered her share to the space monster, "A moment." Said the doc as he straightened up his glasses staring at the trio, most notably the pinkish one, "This girl. Majin, resilient, flexible, narurally gifted ay ki and almost perfectly immune to many conventional weapons." He tapped his chin and raised his eyebrow at their employer, "Even the laziest breed of the majin should have been able to take care of some shiftless kidnappers. Or at least made a bigger mess on the way out. How exactly do you think they pulled this off?"