Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Big Fagot]

Part 3: Companions, huh ...

Chapter 1: Repositioning

"I don't get it."

As they walk with the afternoon sun at their left, Al Sparta tries to explain his joke to the boy Tab.

"Well, they say that man Kasparov is a tactical genius, like a great chess player. And Sinijj, his first name, is the Russian word for blue. Deep Blue Kasparov!"

Tab just sits there grinning moronilly as they all walk westward. This is a boy who grew up in the mountains of Appalachia, who may never have seen a computer. Al realizes that the new generation is learning how to fight and till fields, but nothing about the past or the outside world.

“Well, it wasn’t very funny anyway,” he concedes sourly.



“I knew he would fail!” The words are extruded one piece at a time through tightened lips, a mouth with some slight masculinity. “I knew it from the beginning. He doesn’t share our commitment!”

“You’re out of line!” The accusation is fired out of another mouth, this one not so different from the first, manly but only mildly so. “Our organization’s direction has no place for your jockeying for power!”

“Surely I’ve not been called here to witness this ingratiation,” says a third mouth. “I shall leave these two to their favor currying, unless our leader wishes my presence?”

“Alvin, Simon, Theodore, please!” A familiar face now, plump and Hispanic. As he leans forward, the glare of the overhead lights disappears from his circular eyeglasses, revealing chronically drooped eyelids. “We are called here for the sake of our organization, and our common goals. If respect is too much, at least show some prudence before your leader.”

The three toadies, all white, all brunette and all modest of stature, still their tongues and glare hatefully. One growls with resentment. “Diaz …”

“Well spoken, doctor,” booms a voice from the end of the table. The speaker is completely unlit by the overhead lamps. He commands the attention of all present. “But their words are true. Earlier today, our General Kasparov encountered his targets and did not capture them.”

“Unacceptable,” declares one of the three sycophants.
“Indeed,” agrees another, “With the wealth of strength he commands, there is no excuse.”
“Completely disappointing,” proclaims the third. “That man’s reputation as a strategist is woefully overvalued.”

“NO!” screams the shadowed man, slamming his hands down on the table and jumping up the fuck onto it! “HIS STRATEGY IS UNDERVALUED BECAUSE ABJECT FOOLS LIKE YOURSELVES LIVE AND DIE WITHOUT KNOWING THE MEREST POWER OF INSIGHT!”

The sycophants are shocked into silence.

“If he had meant to acquire the targets, it would have taken much longer to prepare and position the pieces. This opening gambit, inexpensive in complexity, only alerts them to the nature of the man that pursues them, limiting their movement!”

Silence, and then – “He risked his life to reveal information?”
“Are these the tactics they teach in Soviet academies?”
“Small wonder their great social experiment failed.”

All three men nearly jump out of their skin at the explosive sound of the thick granite table cracking! They turn to the shadowed man, who is unmoved. He takes two steps forward. A section of the table falls to the floor behind him, hundreds of pounds crashing and settling noisily.

Dr. Diaz, hoping to control the situation, jumps in for the shadowed man. “Idiots!” he scolds. “The information is of no use to them if their efforts to escape detection are meaningless!”

“Mean …”
“… ing …”
“… less?”

“Besides, look at what he gained in return! A man who could have been a dangerous unknown was forced to reveal himself.”

The shadowed man speaks. “Castellan …”



Carlos swivels his head. “What’s that?”

“The symbol,” repeats Nick. “The one that was hidden in Divot.”

The words catch Roulette’s ear. The symbol appears in his mind as if in front of his eyes, linked to a moment he can never forget.



“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that emblem,” says Roulette. “It was the logo of my former employer.”

Nick is surprised; Carlos is not. “Employer? You worked for Connor?”

Roulette nods. “But I still don’t know what that symbol was doing in my city, or how it got behind the chapel!”

“Did you build that chapel?” asks Carlos.

“No … I traveled to Pussy Central after the Apocalypse. I founded the city of Divot around that chapel, the only permanent building in what was then a settlement of scared, dying people.”

“Then those people, or whoever came before them, must have put it there.”

“Why would they carve a corporate logo into a mountain?” Roulette shakes his head. “And why would they hide it from me?”



“Don’t forget,” barks Dr. Diaz, “The village of Divot was destroyed as well! Together with forcing Carlos Castellan to join them, this means their only possible destination is No Man’s Land. Pursuing them will be all too easy! It’s just as good as if the general hadn’t revealed himself at all.”

“Just as good?”
“So it confers no advantage?”
“Then why even bother?”

“Their destination is another person of interest,” declares the shadowed man standing atop the table. “Kasparov must see an opportunity to deal with him at the same time, or even to use him against our targets.”

The shadowed man is silhouetted against a familiar emblem.



He raises his fist to eye level and shows his teeth with a grin. “This is so interesting,” he says. “I wish I could be there when he puts them in check!”

[Spamdini]

*evil grin with ten thousand creases in his face and hair flying wildly*

[Big Fagot]

It wasn't hard to find a picture that was basically what I needed, because most of the pictures of Yujiro are more or less the one I used.