Come Together

Artik landed the TARDIS and stepped out without a word. Stan kept shouting "PAY ATRENTION TO ME," and Artik needes to think. He sighed and took out two items--- a gem and bell. He shuddered sadly and walked onto a blue hill.

Cyril walked out of the TARDIS in a stormy mood. The bright and gorgeous landscape of Namek did nothing to soothe his inner turmoil. He jerked off his hat and began pacing around, not leaving sight of the TARDIS. He needed that last wish NOW. He needed it an entire MONTH AGO. Cyril was ready to tear apart this entire planet to find the dragon balls and Makoto would not be hindering him.
Cyril stopped and took deep breaths. "Pull yourself together man."

Makoto stepped out of the TARDIS. The very first thing he did was find a large rock and began using it as a training dummy. He would not let Cyril stop him from reaching his goal. But he would have to become stronger. So much stronger. He battered the rock with a flurry of kicks and punches before shattering it with an explosive punch the made a small fissure in the ground from pure force. When that happened Makoto let out an animalistic roar.

Artik sat on the hill and held the blue and silver items in his hand. He let a tear roll down his face as he dove into the Namekian lake.

Cyril saw Artik dive into a lake and he approached the body of water. He waited for Artik to reappear.

Artik sat at the bottom, meditating.

Makoto watched as the fissure grew larger and larger. He suddenly saw water pour into the fissure. He must have hit a lake or something. He growled and dropped into the fissure and began firing ki blast after ki blast at the wave of water. Evaporating it before it could fill the crack.

Cyril knew Artik would be awhile so Cyril fell into a familiar position. He began a type of Seraph "yoga" as the humans would call it. He raised his hands above his head and slowly brought the apart and out. He pushed the ki from himself and his hands were covered in a shimmery veil of white ki. As he moved his limbs left trails of ki fluttering through the wind. Cyril made a plan in his mind as he practiced his forms. They would find the dragon balls, bring back Heaven, take down Cyrnric, and then he would get his much needed spaceship so he could gather up the remaining Seraphim. If he needed to dispose of Makoto in the process so be it, but he would prefer to instead help Makoto. He understand the pain of losing everything.

Makoto evaporated all the water and sighed. That wasn't even anything near a challenge. He needed something more. Cyril would defeat him at this rate. Makoto felt his bloodlust rising up inside of him. he needed to kill. He saw the two that he came here with were occupied so he took the chance to fly away. He flew across to the other side of the planet to find a village. He landed in a small village and watched as a old namekian came up to him. "Welcome to our village. Can I help you?" Makoto looked at the namekian with a solemn look on his face. "Forgive me for what I am about to do.." He then blasted the confused namekian's face off. He felt the cool purple blood splatter across his face and he began to grin. He looked around as other green skinned people emerged from their homes. Some gasped in horror while others began to charge their ki. Makoto licked his lips as some warriors surrounded him. "He killed the elder! Get him!!" Makoto smirked. "All this for little old me? Im touched. I honestly am." Makoto backflipped when a namekian stretched his arm and tried to hit him. Makoto then grabbed it's fist and swung it around to hit the others. He watched one jump over and he suddenly appeared behind him. He smirked as the namekian punched him in the face. His head snapped backwards from the force of the punch. Slowly his head returned to it's normal position with an even bigger grin. The scared alien stumbled back as Makoto advanced towards him. Makoto lunged forward and picked up the struggling man by the throat. Makoto began to chuckle as he shoved a ki ball down his throat. He then threw the namekian high into the sky before smiling with sick delight as he exploded into a shower of purple blood. He turned his attention to the remaining warriors. "Look what he has done!" Another yelled in anger. "Monster!" Makoto tilted his head to one side. "Monster? Me?" Makoto began to laugh, reaching a level of pure insanity that he had never reached before. Looking at the warriors his face had changed. He had a large grin on his face. His eyes were large and frantic. His pupils had dilated to the point where they had began quivering. "Yeah..Yeah!! I'm a monster! So now...I am going to do what monsters do. I am going to devour you all!!" A namekian ran at Makoto. "Enough of you!" He threw a massive punch at Makoto which Makoto sidestepped. The namekians looked on in shock as Makoto's teeth clambed down around the arm. With a jerk of his head Makoto ripped the arm clean off. Makoto crunched the severed arm and swallowed a chunk. With purple blood running down from his mouth he began to laugh even louder. "Come play with me. Im HUNGRY!!" He blasted the armless namekian into oblivion before charging at the crowd. He began tearing them apart bit by bit. He was a whirlwind of death and blood. After a short period of chaos everything was silent. All the namekians lay on the ground in pieces. All except a young child. Makoto turned and looked at the shaking youth. He didn't say anything but pointed his finger at the shaking youngster. Suddenly the kid was being lifted into the air by Makoto. Makoto looked into the boys eyes. Suddenly Makoto bit into him, crushing his skull and then ripping off his face. Makoto swallowed it, bones and all before throwing the lifeless body to the ground.[/b]

Artik felt a pang of loss as he felt a village extermimated. He sighed, and pocketed the two items. He stretched and walked out of what used to be a lake. Yawning, Artik flew into the air and searched around.

Cyril was finishing up his practice. He drew his legs together again and pulled his hands slowly back up into the air, the ki poured back into him and he let out a deep breath. He was much calmer now and the possible fight between himself and Makoto was far from his mind. He decided since Artik was meditating and Makoto was blowing off steam that he would go ahead and look for the dragon balls on Namek. He shook himself awake; the ancient Seraphim technique he had just been practicing had almost lulled him to sleep. Cyril would definitely have to be up and alert if he wanted to find those reptile testicles. He set off at a brisk pace going nowhere really before he realized he would actually need to check his dragon radar to find the balls. He removed his Presidential Pocketwatch and flipped it open, “Whoops, wrong one.” He put that back in his pocket and pulled out the actual dragon radar. He flipped it open and looked at the interface. It took him a minute to figure out how everything worked. The map ratio was very strange to him but at least he knew which general direction to go. There were two blinking blips on the screen, so two dragon balls. Cyril decided to grab both of them before returning to the TARDIS to gather his friends.  The blips were on opposite sides of the radar, one on the south side and another on the north side. Cyril was always fond of North so that was the first direction he went. “You know there was a little limerick about the North,” he said to himself. “What was it?” He walked awhile mulling over it. “The North wind doth blow… something… something… Robin.” Cyril shook his head. “I’ll remember it eventually.” Cyril looked around and tried to find some local life. He took off his hat and removed a book from it titled “The Traveler’s Guide.” He flipped through the pages, “Let’s see, Namek… Namek…” He found the page he was looking for and with a look of triumph read aloud what the book had to say about Namek:
“Namek, where the grass is blue and the water and sky is green. Namek has 3 suns and thus has no nighttime. The inhabitants (Namekians, frogs, dinosaurs, and not much else.) don't seem to mind though! The Namekians are entirely peaceful leading a quiet life of farming and various occult magics. Despite the really small population that live only in small villages, they are not to be trifled with. Their warriors are very strong and will not hesitant to violently kill you.
The planet's atmosphere is similar to that of Earth's and the surface is mostly water and various rock formations.
The current ruler is: No one.”

Cyril closed the book and put it away. “Dinosaurs, ha! This book has an odd sense of humor.” He went on with his travels, observing the landscape. He took in the lush blue grass (not the music) and the dazzling green water. The trees seemed to him an oddity; thin, pale stalks and suddenly a tuft of blue fluff. How novel.  Cyril checked the radar again and found that the dragon ball had changed positions. Not a lot but enough to be noticeable. “Odd. Someone must have it already.” Cyril changed his course and checked the radar repeatedly to make sure he did not lose the dragon ball. He hoped whoever had it would be willing to let him use it. Surely if it was a good person and he explained his plight they would surely help him. Fortunately when he came upon the blip on the radar there was no person there. Unfortunately there was a huge dinosaur which appeared to be constructing a nest around the dragon ball. Cyril’s mouth was agape from surprise, “I guess the book wasn’t kidding after all.” As surprised and delighted as he was at there being an actual dinosaur directly in front on him, Cyril was here to do a job and he had to do it. He looked around and saw that the dinosaur (let’s call him Fred) was watching him closely. Oh well. Cyril flew into the air and swooped down. He stole the dragon ball from Fred and landed out of Fred’s field of vision.
“A dinosaur,” Cyril exclaimed in childish delight, “I can’t believe that was a dinosaur!”  He shifted his grip on the dragon ball and examined it for the first time. It was much bigger than he expected, about the size of a human baby. It was the 7 star ball.  Cyril was beginning to doubt whether or not he should go after the second ball without dropping off the first one. If someone was there or he had to fight Cyril would have to drop the current ball and fight or flee. He decided to take the risk, and, with a great struggle, pulled out the dragon radar without dropping the dragon ball and saw he had gone off course a bit.  He faced southwest-ish and went about on his way. He felt a power level flitting about near the dragon ball. Cyril’s blood ran cold, there was a mass of power levels now. Most likely it was a village. But now one dropped off. And another fell. They disappeared one by one and then all at once. Cyril stopped in his tracks and an expression of melancholy took over his face. He had just felt an entire village being massacred. Cyril shook his head slowly, dejectedly, “Who would have…” His expression hardened as he recognized the power level. Makoto. Makoto had just killed an entire village. Cyril stood in one spot and breathed hard, visibly angered about the incident. Something had to be done, Makoto was entirely unstable and people suffered for it. Cyril simply could not allow this to continue, if Artik could not hold Makoto in check then Cyril would present his own solution. He marched towards the village with a mind to confront Makoto before he reasoned with himself. He needed to get his job done right now while he had time. Makoto can wait. Cyril opened the dragon radar again and adjusted his course again, but not by much. The dragon ball must have been in the village Makoto had just razed. Cyril walked along the edge of a marsh and he was bombarded by a chorus of frogs who were croaking futilely at the air as if they too had sensed the sudden deaths of the local Namekians. The wind blew in from the south and he could smell the rotting stench of death. That must be what alerted the frogs, that or the hollow moans of the not yet dead. Cyril, with a cold expression, quickly made his way to the village. He came upon the small village with strange, sterile white buildings, spikes protruded from them and a few Namekians were impaled upon them cruelly. Purple blood dripped from them still and they were the ones who moaned in pain, the only survivors. Cyril flew slowly up to reach them and found that he was too late. The Namekians were way too far gone, unconscious because of the sheer amount of pain. Or, perhaps, it was the loss of blood; maybe the near fatal holes in their heads. Cyril was timeless and immortal, he had seen far too many scenes such as these and it never got easier to bear. The pang of loss still hurt him as much now as it did eons ago. Cyril floated back to the ground, weakly clutching his dragon ball. He saw, lying mangled on the ground, the body of a youth. Blood stained the ground and insects were already beginning to buzz and feed around the body. The youth’s face appeared to have been bitten off in a fit of violence. Cyril felt a rising anger again threatening to consume him, but it quickly turned to a pitiable sadness at the violent and awful deaths these people had faced. Shaking at the terrible emotions inside him, Cyril rose and wiped away a solitary tear. He went about his business and was forced to dig through heaps of bodies and crumbled shelters to find the dragon ball. He entered the largest building and found a chest which held the dragon ball. It was the 4 star ball. Cyril lifted it and cradled it into his free arm and went back to the TARDIS.

Word Count: 1,422

((Gains: 2 Namekian Balls))

Makoto had begun devouring the village.

As soon as Cyril arrived at the TARDIS he practically threw the dragon balls into the ship for safe keeping and left without looking at either Artik or Makoto. He was angry with them right now, and Cyril was worried he might do something rash. He flew high into the Namekian sky and travelled out of sight before he heard anything they might have said. Cyril’s thoughts spun and shook in his head; they kept going back to the dead Namekian village. They kept going back to how Makoto had done all of it how he had killed and partially eaten all of the villagers. Cyril desperately needed something to do, so he pulled out his dragon radar. There was not a blip anywhere on the screen. Cyril shook the radar in a frustrated manner.
“Ugh,” Cyril shoved the radar back into his pocket, irritated. Cyril tried to think of something to do. “Ah, wait a minute,” Cyril muttered, “Wasn’t I supposed to get something here?” Cyril frowned in concentration. Ah! Now he remembered. Cyril had been instructed by Artik to retrieve Piccolo’s cape and turban from some sort of band of Namekian rogues. Cyril decided to get on with it while there were no dragon balls in the immediate area and he still had nothing to do. “Alright then rogues, best start running because I’m coming for you,” he muttered darkly. Cyril briefly hoped he wouldn’t actually have to kill anyone. Cyril faced north and began flying.  “Oh what was that little poem?” Cyril flew on for awhile struggling to remember. “The north wind doth blow and we shall have snow…” He shook his head as he forgot the rest. Cyril went back to scanning the ground for life. “And what will poor robin do, poor thing?” Cyril muttered. “Hmm… is there a part after that?” Cyril unconsciously accelerated as he spotted Fred the dinosaur below. Fred roared at Cyril as he flew by.  Cyril zipped past a nearby rock formation and stopped. He heard loud laughter and cries coming from the other side of the formation. That must be them. Cyril floated over the outcropping of rocks and found a small camp of Namekians. They looked pretty bandit-y so he assumed that he was right in saying these were the people he was looking for. “Will you look at that!” And there it was, plain as day. Piccolo’s cape and turban being worn by who he assumed was the leader of their little band.  Cyril descended and landed in the middle of the camp, the Namekians jumped to their feet and brandished weapons. They immediately formed a circle around Cyril and he beamed at them all. “Yes, yes, hello there.” The leader approached Cyril, “Who are you and what do you have for us to take?” He asked.  “My name is Cyril, president of Earth,” he added hoping that maybe the title would get him somewhere.  A few jeers came from the crowd and the leader smirked, “Oh a president! Surely you’ll have some nice valuables.”
“Oh yes plenty, but of course you can’t have any of it. Actually I came here to strike a deal.”
“A deal, eh? What could we possibly have that is of use to you, Mr. President?” the leader sneered.
“Your cape and turban. I have need of them.” Cyril reached for his Zenni pouch, “I can pay.”
“We don’t want your money!” The leader snapped. Cyril was confused,
“What? Why-“
“We pillage for supplies not money! Money is useless to us Namekians, we trade for everything.” Cyril looked around camp and realized his mistake. Wood and large stocks of water lay about in carts. “This is much more than a band of Namekians need, who is this for?”
“Our village”, said the leader proudly,” Just south of here.”
“I think I know the place,” whispered Cyril, suddenly struck with the realization that the village that had just been massacred belonged to these people.  The leader saw Cyril’s face drop at the mention of their village and become worried, “Why do you make that face? What has happened?” he yelled at Cyril. The crowd around Cyril lowered the weapons and exchanged anxious glances, “Oi! Answer him!”
“They…it’s…” Cyril placed a hand on the Namekian, “They’re dead.” The leader’s face remained the same and a few weapons clattered to the ground from shock. The leader’s gaze pierced Cyril and he took his hand of the leader’s shoulder. “All of them?” He asked quietly.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Who would have done this?” The leader’s strong personality fell to pieces and he became the scared and angry Namekian he was. “Why!? TELL ME, WHO DID THIS.” Cyril shook his head slowly, “I... I don’t know. I only came across them after it had happened.” The leader turned and began walking away, he gathered u his things angrily and ordered everyone else to do the same. “Is the dragon ball still there?” The leader asked Cyril with a bitter tone. “That’s how I came upon them, actually. I was looking for the balls and was going to request a wish. They were all dead so I took the ball.” The leader began shaking and his face was turned away from Cyril. “You can keep it!” His voice was full of anger but soft, “I always told the elder not to keep it! To give it to some other village.” The leader began muttering angrily to himself and Cyril observed the dismal tone of the Namekians. They all moved slow with grief and a few were crying for lost family members. Cyril stuck with the Namekians and walked all the way back to the village with them.
“Here, Cyril”, the leader took off his cape and turban and gave it to Cyril, “I have no more use for it.” Cyril left them to grieve.

Word Count: 976

((The funny part is, the "secret reward" was this...))

A Namekian child tugged on Cyril's shirt. "Excuse me, sir." Its voice dropped to a whisper. "Those rogues may be heroes to this region of our planet, but Guru said in the long run, they just drive us into galactic isolation. Perhaps after grieving, they will worktto fix what your friend dead. At any rate, the Guru foresaw 'the loneliest of men will try to get Namek's greatest of artifacts. He is a friend to Namek, and a visitor in more ways than one.' And that I should give him the Three-Star ball. And this," the child handed Cyril a bag of Zenni. "There's 7,000 Zencoins in there to 'help make him a little less lonely.'" The child disappeared.

Cyril was left with a strange expression on his face and with both the 3 star dragon ball and his Zenni. Whoever this guru is, he had sparked Cyril's interest. He returned to the TARDIS and called for Artik.

Artik heard Cyril call him and appeared behind the lad, carrying a bucket of partially dry frogs in each hand. He grabbed a bottle of water and splashed it on the frogs before releasing them outside near a pond. "Yeah," he asked upon his return.

Cyril handed Artik the cape and turban, "Here, Piccolo's stuff." He also showed him the three dragon balls he had acquired. "I also got three reptile testicles."

Artik nodded at the chained up Stan, frothing and foaming. "Does it freak anyone else out that he has a beard? At any rate, good work. I know where another is."

"You know what," Cyril said after a moment of thought, "I think the beard is why I want to destroy him utterly." Cyril gestured vaguely, "Onward my good friend."

Artik flew up and towards a large plateau, home of the Guru. Upon arrival, Artik waved at the Albino guards, and explained to Cyril, "an Albino Namekian named Hammer took over some time ago, only..." He walked in, and noticed a large, pale Namekian sitting in the Guru's throne. "Took over from Hammer, there, Sledge?"

The jolly Namekian laughed, "Yup. Don't miss a beat, eh, Mister Artik?"

Cyril decided not to comment on the hammer-related names. He bowed lightly to Sledge, "Hello, Guru."

The Guru smiled. "Hello, Visitor. You got my package, I trust? Ever since the great Albino ancestor, Anvil, we have been gifted with foresight."

"Yes I did, thank you very much."

Artik yawned. "Dragon Ball, PL0X."

Guru shook his head, "L0L, N0 FR33 ST00F."

"$0 N07 1337." Artik cleared his throat, "Why not?"

"Because that bastard has it!" He pointed at a running Namekian, Dragonball iin hand, on the ground below. "Damn Green Supremist."