Rick landed on Earth with a sense of urgency. He opened the doors of the TARDIS, ran out, and hit the side of the TARDIS. "What the HFIL...?" He knew the answer, "Artik," he called.
Artik blinked at Ryuzaki, his power the same as it was when Rick met him on Trenzalore. Err... In the simulation.
"Oh, hello..."
Rick figured it out and put on a mask of Richard Nixon, "Dick," he said in an American accent.
Artik smiled, "Dick! How the hell are you?" He pulled out a device, "Just flew in from Uberia. Souped up the Radar.
Rick, err, Dick, snatched the device and ran off. Artik shouted, "Leave it on The Lookout!"
As Rick rounded a corner, he threw the mask off and noticed he was in the heart of Times Square. He had always wanted to visit America. Especially New York City. His over-protective parents, however, noticed how many aliens lived there and forbade their children from visiting. He giggled as he picked up a Dragonball and put it in his satchel--- a dull green, ordinary one, not the one that lead to the TARDIS; that was destroyed--- and continued his search. Of course, by that, I mean he put the radar in his coat pocket and flew to the top of the New Empire State Building, a replica built a few years ago that was thrice as tall. His ears popped as he ascended. He winced in pain and eventually shrugged. Now, he pulled out the radar, clicked it, and searched for the next nearest one. He thought about what had happened earlier.
In a break of Rick and Emily's training with Cyril, a man with an overly stereotypical Italian appearance appeared out of thin air in Rick's room. "Err, hello," he asked the man.
The man turned into a young child, "Hello, Ryuzaki."
"Oran, right," he asked.
Auron shook his head, "Auron," he told him.
"Err, right. What do you want, kid?"
Auron blinked, "Have you ever heard of the Dragonballs?"
Rick nodded slightly, "A few years ago. A friend was talking about it at school. Said they grant any wish."
"Any two wishes," Auron corrected him, "Earth's, anyway. And Heaven. Not Nameks, that's three."
Rick raised an eyebrow, "They're real?" He laughed.
"Yup. Go find my father.... Shouldn't be hard. Steal his Dragon Radar and go find them."
Rick shrugged.
Rick stopped flying as something hit him in the head. He caught whatever it is, and cheered through the pain; it was another Dragon Ball. He flew down to the ground and passed out for several hours. As he woke up, he noticed many things worthy of note. Namely a third Dragon Ball. "Four to go, if I remember correctly," he muttered. He yawned, stretched, had something else strike his head, and fainted yet again.
He dreamt of many things: of tacos and ham, of gold and silver, of tea and Mary Jane, of witches and wizards, of other British things. He also dreamt of walking along the cool sand dunes, wind in his ears, and above him.... Above him, he saw it. The moon, "Is that thing even real--- What the hell?" He noticed the moon turn blood red and engulf the Earth in fur. He woke with a start. He took that dream as some sort of omen, and quickly forgot the important message behind it. It would probably not come up again.
But it would. And it has. But that is another story. This is a story of Rick setting off at a brisk float, searching for the fourth ball. And he found it.
He grinned, "Yay!" He cracked his neck and set off to the other side of America. He gulped in terror as he realized what exactly that was. He passed Virginia, he passed Tennesse, he passed Colorado, he passed Nevada, and he made it to Los Angeles. The most wretched hive of scum and villainy. Only slightly worse than New Jersey. He sighed deeply and walked on the sidewalk. His feet burst into flames, "Nope," he decided, and floated. With all the smog and ghosts, he should go fairly well unnoticed. He set off quickly, checking every condemned building, every crack den. Which happened to be the only two types of buildings left since Uberia took over the universal film industry. He finally found the damn bloody thing in a cabinet in a building on a street with overturned cars--- a relic from even before Uberia took the business. He whooped at his newly aquired Dragon Ball.
He had only two more to go. "Hey, I only have two more to go," Rick said. And it was true. Whooped again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Alot of whoops. Seriously. He whooped the shoop. Rick got the fuck out of America. He called the TARDIS and jumped out in London, inhaling the British air, which was naturally better than French air, which does not shave. And eats too much cheese. And their bread looks like penises. "Seriously," the air muttered, "Fuck the French." However, no one else could hear the air so this obviously went unnoticed. Rick was pleasantly surprised to find that the sixth and penultimate ball was in good ol' London-town. It only took him fourteen words, I mean paces, to find it. And he did. "Yaaaay," he cheered. One left. But that meant, "I've got to go see Bruce." So, he crossed the Channel, Europe, Africa, Indian Ocean, Asia, Malaysia, and he finally landed on Australia. "Bruce," he called out to the nation. Then, every male in the Outback assembled.
"Yes," they asked in unison.
Rick shouted, "Are any of you miners?"
They all laughed. Of course they were.
"Err... Have any of you found an orange ball with red stars on them?"
They shrugged. One ran to the front of the crowd, "I have," he shouted, holding it up.
Rick floated towards him, "What do you want for it," he asked.
Bruce shrugged, "'Ow bout 'alf a pint?"
Rick sighed and called the TARDIS. The TARDIS appeared, and Rick walked in. Moments later, he returned with a large hose. He also had a tube for transporting liquids, pointing the latter at the sky and causing it to rain beer. All was well in Australia for beers to come.
And Rick had all the Dragon Balls.
