Super Dragon Ball: Paradise Hysteria

Saiyan Schemes, Fate Laughs

It was a busy day at work. As a longtime World Martial Arts Tournament competitor and the winner of the 21st World Martial Arts Tournament, the administration of the newly rebuilt Papaya Island saw Chayote as the fitting name to assist them in restoring the tournament and securing its procession when the 24th World Martial Arts Tournament is hosted again well over a decade since the last one went to hell.

This wasn't about competition. Nor was it about organizing the tournament. The Papaya Island administration sent Chayote Security a formal request to ensure that no worldly or otherworldly superpowers interfere with the tournament. Papaya Island was owned by a bunch of monks. Their temple probably couldn't afford to rebuild the island and the bustling cities thriving on it, as well as restore their sacred martial arts tradition of the World's Martial Arts Tournament through donations alone. Even now, cities rose and fell on the broad shoulders of the corporations that had their investments in them, whereas Papaya Island took nearly fifteen years to be rebuilt after the Tournament of Doom and even then, they gave up on being self-reliant and accepted the corporate investments looking out for Papaya Island. Or rather, the real estate there.

Chayote expected the next tournament to have way more advertisement breaks, and Papaya Island's request included a note about anti-air defense systems, meaning they probably had some air balloons or blimps to protect. A light tap at Chayote's door demanded her attention. Chayote tilted her eyes to the door, seeing her assistant peek through the crack.

"Excuse me, ma'am, Hercule-san is here to see you. He says you've requested him," the assistant squinted, as if worried that something heavy would fly at the wall and make her scramble for the next corner screaming and panting.

"I did request him, let him in," Chayote nodded and slipped the paperwork she was looking at back into the file it came from.

Mark looked sharp. Suited, probably armed and armored, and well-equipped underneath. Not something that he had to go through for a high-ranking administrative position on the job. He was no longer the active field agent he was back during the Artificial Human occupation days. It would have been impossible to tell that he wasn't trying his best to look like the Mark Satan that won over humanity's heart and soul as the figurehead of the company. The man who, because of his bold mission schedule and countless survivors, he pulled out of the line of fire, became synonymous with being the savior of the world. More so than the martial artists that actually defeated the Artificial Humans.

"Chayote, ya wanted to see me," Hercule dragged his feet up to her desk, unbuttoned the suit that struggled to contain Mark's increase in body weight, and rested on the chair in front of Chayote's.

"I did, Mark," Chayote took the Papaya Island request file and placed it in front of Hercule as a sign that she expected him to pick it up and get himself familiar with it. Mark picked up on the cues and ran his eyes through the file.

"Huh... They're starting that World Martial Arts Tournament thing again, huh? You know, I've always wanted to do my best in one of those. I was good and ready during the 21st and 22nd tournaments, but... I lost my martial arts master when I was young and... It made me buckle under pressure whenever I had to fight someone strong. The first tournament I got my shit together for and attended was the 23rd... The one that actual demons invaded on," Mark sighed and put the file back on the table.

"I want you in that tournament, Mark," Chayote weaved her fingers together, leaning forward like the shrewd mastermind that she was pretending to be. "Do you think you can lose that board member weight and get into a fighting shape in a couple of years? I'd very much prefer it if you won this thing."

"Chayote-san... What is this about?" Mark took his indoor shades off, showing off his sleepless eyes, and hung them over his front pocket. "I'm a board member as you said. I'm not a field agent anymore. Am I getting demoted further? What did I do this time?"