Post by Celmaru Waterfield on Apr 23, 2019 21:48:14 GMT
The local mailing service had erratic timing. In the midst of many workers’ lunch break, mail would arrive; or perhaps within the silence of the night, or long after daybreak. Despite such an odd “system”, Celmaru Waterfield wasn’t one to complain. At least he receives his mail. Conducting his periodic postal check, the hybrid discovered an unmarked package. No return address, little decoration or information. There was proper postage stamps attached, however. Nevertheless, the hybrid remained with his gaze upon the package -- concluding that this arrival was unexpected. Neither Celmaru nor Phae had purchased anything via online order recently. Surely so, the hybrid pondered -- self-assurance was necessary, unfortunately. Brief moments pondering the worst were eventually deemed wasted; the hybrid procured the package with minimal reconsideration. Any explosions were likely to be trivialized if Celmaru were to surround the eruption.
Right?
Gingerly peeling away the package’s outer shell, the hybrid took notice of what was told to be “The Big Box Trick”. Minuscule contents became visible, albeit only so betwixt various papers. Otherwise, the majority of Celmaru’s newfound lot was bare. Flipping away the lot’s final coverings, the hybrid noted a total of four professional papers -- that, and some odd device. Strange indeed. Sliding his fingers beneath the device, the hybrid guided his palm ever nearer; inspection of such a peculiar gadget swiftly acquired the hybrid’s attention. Celmaru peered all along the apparatus, each detail eventually becoming documented within a haphazard working memory. There evidently wasn’t much to the appliance for experimentation, excluding what appeared to be a grid -- and a capsule-esque clicker. How minimalistic. A gust had picked up, rustling both the hybrid’s rigid locks and an aforementioned collection of papers.
Visually, these likely bore similarities towards parchment rather than paper, albeit the lot of them became curled and rustled nonetheless. Celmaru hastily attempted to readjust them all, and yet numerous points became partially crimped. Aggressively sighing to himself, the hybrid set the device aside, atop his mailbox -- and endured an excessive effort to combat both the gusting winds and the flimsy parchment. It’d been an eternity since Celmaru had wrestled with papers as he was. However, the documents became laid relatively straight within their origins; a mysterious package. In time, with the surrounding natura’s sudden silence, the hybrid took complete notice of the remaining contents. Professionally recorded documents of a patient’s condition, medical records, health intake, and even their medications. Why would Celmaru be sent such papers? Regardless of such an inquiry, however, it appears that someone is -- essentially -- quite deathly ill. Briefly peering upon each paper, the hybrid’s perusal was spontaneously interrupted! A wholly torn hole appeared betwixt the parchment. A minuscule eruption of energy billowed from the hybrid’s pectoral muscles. Its sudden behavior provided an outrageous pang of discomfort from the point of impact.
Celmaru reeled, promptly baring a set of grit teeth. The bastard, where are they?! Emotion wrought a lack of spiritual control; barring any sense of Ki from the hybrid’s mind. Who shoots someone in their own front yard? As if on cue, an amalgamation of a clicking tongue and buzzing was audible from beneath the hybrid. Along the extensive stairway leading to Celmaru’s hilltop home, a vague figure stood. It was thin; a bare forearm was exceedingly… bony. Perhaps unnaturally so. A wide brim hat concealed the perpetrator’s visage -- albeit the hybrid could hardly contain the copious amounts of fucks he’s willing to give. However, the figure exhibited a convoluted display of “finger” twirling, seemingly pretending to holster a sidearm. Another bony forearm arose, swiping at the hat’s brim. This stranger was extremely alien, the hybrid was sure.
“Gleetings, Cermalu. You’ve been making some mistakes recentry. Plepale to die.”
Celmaru’s immediate emotional state became entirely conflicted within mere moments. Disregarding the fact that the hybrid’s name was misspoken -- for a moment -- aggression in retaliation from being shot waged war with confusion over such a doltish speech impediment. The hybrid’s brows furrowed, yet only via a diverging state of reaction. Another buzzing click of the tongue.
“Stupid. To think you’le one of the nelds the ord man’s been tarking to. I’rr be taking any and arr Dlagon Barrs you have. I’m convinced after only a thlee pelcent letlieval late that you wirr have one!”
“…Dragon Balls? How would you know about those? Ayumu didn’t --”
Celmaru paused. Perhaps that information should remain redacted. However, this mysterious asshat appeared to care little. A concealed palm procured a miniature, orange sphere. Its stars, which it likely had, were hidden before a sylphlike thumb. The figure’s hat tilted upwards, revealed outrageously bugged-out eyes. In fact, they were an insect’s eyes! Behind a risen mantle’s collar, there remained minimal detail regarding this stranger’s full visage. Only the bastard’s eyes were visible; alongside a pair of stringy antennae. Was… was this “visitor” a mosquito? An alien? Celmaru wasn’t bothered to discern which, in truth. What was presumed to be the magical wish-granting sphere soon vanished; returned to the depths of this insect’s overcoat. With brief ruffling, shuffling, and huffing, the mosquito revealed something else --!
It’s bare palm.
Still atop his property’s front steps, the hybrid eventually began to witness the accumulation of Ki within willowy fingertips. A familiar formation constructed itself -- and it was a firearm; of course it was. Celmaru sighed once more. It was always some big iron on someone’s hip, a weapon, a magical staff of ages, etc. The hybrid had to bear witness to needless, unnecessarily copious amounts of such apparatuses. Abruptly relinquishing himself of the medical documents, Celmaru clenched his fists -- the hybrid’s sides soon accompanied by them. Standing upright, his fists at his sides, the hybrid prepared for an assumingly brief scuffle. The insect stood at the ready, priming his self-manufactured weapon in kind. With a fleeting staredown, Celmaru soon lunged beyond his stairway, the mosquito attempting rapid shots! Several, glowing bullets propelled themselves towards the hybrid at a whistle-stop pace!
Celmaru guided his palm across his visage, coming into contact with such measly projectiles; redirection was his primary option. The ricochet was evident, albeit promptly denying further damage with a puff of a snapping smoke. An impromptu shot was fired, yet the hybrid’s elbow was fated to connect beforehand. The opponent’s recoil was tangible; enough to force his frame to lurch beyond numerous previous steps. TWUNG! A similarly snapping effect was audible, yet it wasn’t anywhere upon Celmaru’s build. The stranger continued to descend -- as it was beginning to tumble down the hill’s haphazard steps -- and the hybrid flitted his vision about. The search for the ruckus’ origins, however, was ultimately brief. The device that the hybrid placed atop his mailbox was spinning rapidly; dangerously so, in fact! The contraption teetered and spun wildly, threatening to likely shatter if left to unfetter.
The din of the mosquito slip-slapping itself down excessive quantities of steps began to fade. Celmaru’s concerns were suddenly seized by the apparatus’ perpetual imbalance; it’s aforementioned threat preparing to become reality. With a violent kick off his current flight of stairs, the hybrid once again lunged; this time for an unknown device. With a supplementary burst of flight, Celmaru was swiftly carried up and beyond! The hybrid’s mailbox was less than a quarter of a yard away, and the device was acquired in a brisk manner. The assumed feeble contraption was a moment’s trip from intact to shattered; albeit, only so for sure within Celmaru’s mind. Mumbling to himself briefly over “the damned thing”, the hybrid noticed a sudden pseudo-anomaly: a beeping. Despite copious rays of sunlight beaming down upon the device, there was a clear image of a green grid and golden dots. With each blink, a beep.
Apparently, the mosquito’s energy bullet struck the device’s primary button. On top of that, there was competent force; enough to activate this apparatus. Absentmindedly prodding at the instrument’s grid-bound screen, the hybrid figured that the recent offender’s prize was, in fact, a Dragon Ball. How intriguing. There were others that knew of these orbs; the thought was somewhat terrifying, alongside its withstanding effect. Celmaru maintained little hesitation to follow the signal. The surely-disease-ridden menace had little reason to retain possession of such an artifact. Abundant flights of stairs along the way down -- approximately eighteen out of thirty -- the hybrid noticed that the signal had strayed away from the path. With a single step into the nearby foliage, however, the hybrid’s boot kicked itself into the mystical sphere. What luck! The Dragon Ball must have discarded itself from the Gun-Fu Mosquito’s overcoat on the way down! With a brief pause, Celmaru hooked himself forwards to reach for the orb. Here’s to hoping that this was a legitimate Dragon Ball, and not some convincing falsehood.
