Artik yawned softly, waking up in the TARDIS. No need to rush things, he just put her on a slow speed and took a nap in his room. Hoping Mirajane would come to breakfast, Artik stumbled groggily into the galley, where he put a kettle on. He poured the tea leaves into the kettle and shrugged. He checked his Scouter, "Today, learn Ki Fist." He shrugged again and sighed, taking the whistling tea kettle off and setting it on the little breakfast table. He conjured a tea cup and saucer and waited for it to cool. In the meantime, he got up and checked the TARDIS's larder. "A block of cheese... And flour tortillas. Looks like I'm having plain quesodillas." He turned the oven on and tossed the food in, sipping his slightly cooled tea. The oven dinged, and he ate his semi-soft, semi-crunchy food.
He jumped out of the TARDIS onto the red plains of Gall--- Vegeta, snapping his orange finger.
Out of nowhere, Okrah appeared, "Yes, my King?"
"I need to learn the ki fist. Do you know it?"
"No, sir," he said, slightly disappointed with himself. "But Maxwell does."
Artik blinked, "Who?"
"A human, my liege. Rather thin, geeky man. Carries around a shiny, silver---"
Artik sighed, "Hammer. Yeah, I get the pattern."
Artik dashed off towards a mountain valley. Nappa Valley, the Saiyans named it, not knowing the humour. Artik came upon a lean-to a bit like his own once was, "Maxwell?"
It was then that Artik heard a noise come from behind. Then, Maxwell's silver hammer came down on his head.
Well, it would have, but Artik willed his ki into his hands and knocked the hammer from his hand.
Artik heard a "bang, bang," before falling over, knocked out.
"Just four hundred words left," Artik groaned, waking up in a cage. He woke and saw his captor. "Maxwell, I am the King of Vegeta! Let me free, or I will bring down the army of Saiyans upon you!"
Maxwell scoffed, "You gave most of the soldiers leave for their help in that battle on Earth."
Artik sighed, "Yes, but, bitch, this is my planet. So, either you let me go," his hands glew, grabbing the bars of his cage, "or I will strangle you myself." The cage snapped, and the bar in his hand melted. "I," he began, his entire body glowing blue ki, "am," he lunged at Maxwell, "the," he grabbed the silver hammer and melted it, "Sun," Artik shot a punch at his neck, and, before a terrible cracking was heard, Artik said, hair going blonde and spiked, "King."
Artik gave the man a Senzu, not wishing entirely to kill him. Artik then broke his limbs and slung the unconcious Maxwell over his shoulder. Artik snapped, and Okrah appeared, "Put him in prison."
"Death penalty, sir?"
Artik sighed, "I told you, no. None of that. For any prisoner,"
"What about Jehovah's Witnesses?"
"...Except for them."
Okrah nodded, "three hundred to go," he said, blinked. To ease the tension, he left, taking the body with him.
Artik burned the hut to the ground, tapping into his Solar Saiyan gifts. Artik then willed his clothes to change into splendoured, elegant robes. Red and yellow robes.
Artik strode about the path leading to the capital. He met a travelling band of Saiyan hippies, which were rare these days. They sang tales of old, and of Octupi, and Walri (plural of walrus?). The autumn season on Vegeta was cool, windy, and the air was crisp. It was not unlike Earth's autumn, though it was somehow much, much different. His robes billowing, he said his goodbyes to the hippies and ran towards the TARDIS, quickly scrawling a note in the grass. He snapped and jumped in the TARDIS, shutting the door. He heard a click and smiled. Too many were the times people could enter willy-nilly. Artik wondered briefly just where the HFIL that figure of speech came from. Sighing, he pulled out his Screwdriver and warmed the tea back up. "Thirty left," he yawned, not hearing his own words. He marveled at the way his ears unpopped. He wondered how long they had been popped. Then the topic reached enough words, so fuck off.
