[center][img] http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjE0Mi4yOTUxNDIuUzJoaGJpQk5hVzVvLjAA/cocobiker.regular.png[/img] [@wxps350][/center] [hr][hr] [b][i]Japan[/i][/b] Khan woke up to a blast of cold water. He flopped, and groaned, and broke through the haze of sleep like a defenestrated drunk. “Hey, dummy,” came a voice. For a second, blotting out the sting of ice water running down his skin, Khan considered falling back asleep. Maybe the voice would go away. Another blast of water, and he swiped blindly at the air, jerking upright again. “You overslept,” the voice said again. He stared up at his agent from his place on the floor. She held an empty glass in either hand. “You’re upside down,” he said. “And you’re supposed to be at the tournament right now.” She set down a glass, then picked up another from nearby and calmly doused Khan for the third time. “Up! I’m up! Fuck. Jesus.” He turned over and slumped up, leaning his body more or less upright against the coffee table. “You still have time to get to the arena before the winner is announced,” she said, tossing him a bundle of clean clothes. “Get showered, get dressed, get moving. I have a meeting with some guys from Toho, so try not to make a boob of yourself while mommy’s not holding your hand.” “No guarantees. Obviously. You could’ve just let me slept in.” Khan staggered to his feet, then gave a little bow. “Great,” she said. Then, “Hey, Khan, chin up. This’s your moment. The schmoozing goes well, who knows, you might have a few more roles coming your way. Real roles. Smiling a little isn’t that big a price.” “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He began removing his undershirt, then stopped, leaving it half-entangling him, like a seagull caught in a net. “I really have to go?” “You really have to go. That’s what happens when you’re reviving a dead career. Smile for the press, kiss some babies, if you drown, don’t drag me down with you. Are you still drunk?” “I have seven livers, Benny. It takes a lot to get me drunk.” “Right. Okay, well, I take that as a yes. Just wanted to make sure I was right to take your keys.” “What? I can drive drunk.” “You will fucking not. Jog there, put that superstrength to good use, I’ll see you tonight.” With that, she was gone. Khan dragged himself to the shower, took about fifteen minutes applying eyeliner, another fifteen getting dressed, and, when it was clear he couldn’t stall his way out of the post-tournament reception, found himself jogging through the Tokyo streets on his way to the tournament. He had already set his mind to looking good and living with the drudgery of the press, unfortunately, when the rain came pouring down. [hr] A tall woman walked down the street, though it was difficult to see her, as five enormous figures in badly fitted raincoats flanked her on all sides, little black umbrellas popped open over their heads. The rain was coming in fierce now, howling across the streets like the gasps of a geriatric giant. Nearby, a car skidded across the slick asphalt, and the driver lost control. It went sliding towards the woman and her entourage. She gave no reaction, but two of the giants in raincoats dropped their umbrellas immediately and lunged forward, catching the car with their bare hands and shoving it out of the way. [hr] “What the shit, what the shit, why—what the fuck—” Khan held a hand above his face to keep the rain from getting into his eyeliner, which was mostly successful, though less successful was using his swearing to ward off the rain soaking his clothes to his skin like glue. The rain pelted down on him, and it was unimpressed by his efforts to stay dry beneath overhangs and buildings. “Twenty first century metropolis and they can’t get the weather report right. Witches in bumfuck nowhere huts in Siberia could tell me more about the godamn weather—“ A car, suddenly, came sliding out of nowhere from down the street. It wasn’t moving particularly fast, but it caught Khan in the stomach and knocked the wind right out of him. Doubling over, he caught himself, then looked around, left and right and up and down. It didn’t take long to put two and two together. Reaching into a nearby recycling can and yanking out a crumpled up soda can, Khan shouted, “Hey! Watch where you’re throwing your cars, tincan asshole!” He chucked the soda can as hard as he could at the mysterious entourage. Hey, they looked nomadish enough, right? Maybe an irresponsible use of his strength, but whatever, it couldn’t be that bad. Without giving them another glance, he turned in the direction of the stadium and made to hurry off. [hr] [center][img] http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjEyOC40MzIyOTEuVm1WeVoyRWdTV3huY21GMlpXNCwuMAAA/wind-sans-serif.regular.png [/img][/center] [hr][hr] [b][i]Japan[/i][/b] Verga didn’t mind the easy money. She didn’t expect anything less, watching the tournament progress. She would be coming up soon for her first round, but no one especially impressive had made an appearance. Easy money was easy money was easy money, sure, though it was a little disappointing no worthwhile sparring partners made an appearance. A few strong ki signatures popped out here and there around the observers platform, but it had been a while, and Verga’s sixth sense couldn’t pinpoint anyone with exact accuracy. It seemed like the tournament would be, overall, disappointing. But she couldn’t lie, there were moments of entertainment. Despite herself, Verga thought it was a little funny to watch one man strike the most ridiculous, impractical pose, balance up on the tippy toes of his left foot, then get punched straight over the towering marble walls of the arena and out into the street far outside. No visible reaction, of course—her face remained as unrevealing as the clear afternoon sky, blue and expressionless. Maybe in another life, she would’ve laughed. Instead, Verga popped open her can of lemonade and took a drink. Seconds later, when the day went dark overhead, it was without fanfare. The clouds rolled in. The rain came down slow, then fast. Verga looked up. Her most minute senses had been dulled, and it was hard to tell anything specific with so many fighters and so much ki concentrated around the arena, but she could tell that something hung breathless in the air, like the sensationless half second after stubbing your toe, waiting patiently for the pain to come rushing up your body. [hr] [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjE1OC5mYmRlNDEuUVhOcmFXNGdUR0VnUVhOclpYSnliMjVsLjA,/coffee-written.regular.png[/img] [@Surtr][@Crosswire][@KaiserElectric][@Redbaron1234][@Savo][/center] [hr][hr] [b][i]Germany[/i][/b] Askin clutched at his poncho. The wind from the roaring thuds of the dragon’s wingbeats was striking the jeep properly now, and it sent everyone’s hair and clothes go fluttering. “Can’t imagine we get paid if a bunch of strangers take out the big boss,” Askin called over the roar of the fire and the howling wind. “And it probably won’t feel that great if they all get killed when we could’ve helped. Hey, I can only speak for me, but definitely not looking forward to that emotional baggage.” Damn. It was so high up…a strange comet of light had gotten close, and another little dot that Askin could barely make out as a figure was glued to the dragon’s skin somehow. But their little party didn't have much in the way of flying. “I can get maybe one person up there,” Askin shouted, fingering two seperate brass bottles. “Klara!” he called, leaning out the jeep window. “Pretty sure I know the answer here, but you punch pretty hard, right?”