Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Big Fagot]

Do you secretly read all the posts in here?

[Action Hank]

Sparta is edutainment

[Vinny]

It's funny how there's more exclamation marks in the explaining promos than the actual story promos.

I'm curious to how this all ties in to the magic spic brothers!

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Peter should write a physics text book.

[Action Hank]

I can't believe edutainment is an actual word.

[Big Fagot]

Here's what Al Sparta looks like:


Nick Sparta basically looks like this but his hair is blond:


Here's a picture of Kasparov that I should have resized (that's a cap on his head):

[Big Fagot]

Chapter 13: The Strongest

The year is 2010. Wind howls through a dusty basin somewhere in what was formerly the Deep South, or possibly Arizona by now. Even the tumbleweeds don’t roll through here.

A hunched giant, covered by a large black blanket, slowly plods across the wasteland. The monster, possibly a freak from No Man's Land, or perhaps just a semihuman by birth enjoying this new world where ultimate power is achieved by physical means rather than social, trudges north with the sun at his back.

Slowly but surely, he crosses mile after mile. The plains turn into hills, and then canyons. The cloaked giant, apparently ignorant of the Neo American adage “don't go where goons might be”, continues through the canyon.



“Hey boss, that guy looks strong!” says a goon watching from above.

“He sure does. Idn’t it great?” replies a muscular man whose face is shadowed. His accent is American; he speaks with confidence bordering on cockiness. “I bet he’s got shitloads of food and water! C’mon, let’s go have a word with the poor stupid sap.”



The giant takes another few steps and halts. He sniffs the air. Suddenly, a bunch of goons jump down from the canyon walls while screaming! The traveler watches staidly while a dozen or so goons lick their weapons and fondle their man-raisins.

“Now, I see a guy like you.”

The giant slowly turns around and faces the leader of the goons.



It’s god damn motherfucking Harry Ellis from Die Hard! He now has huge muscles and is wearing ammo belts or leather straps or whatever the hell goons wear.

“I see a guy like you, big and strong, and I think, this is a guy that could be a powerful enemy.” He looks around, subtly and rhetorically gesturing for his men to express agreement by making a complete douchebag face. “OR, maybe if he and I both play our cards right, he doesn’t have to be an enemy at all.”

The hunchbacked traveler says nothing.

“And I’m no shithead, right? I wasn’t born yesterday. I know that this guy’s lookin’ out for number one like everybody else. So it’s up to me to convince him. That’s my challenge. So now, you know where I’m comin’ from, I’m bein’ straight with you, and let’s talk about you.” He grins.

“You're dead,” speaks the giant. His voice isn't as low as you'd think.

Harry Ellis smirks again. “Okay, so he recognizes me. That’s fine, we can talk about me some more. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. Yeah, I took one in the head back at Nakatomi Plaza. Christmas eve, ’88. My buddy Hans didn’t want what I was sellin’, didn’t wanna hear what I had to say. Confidence makes the man, but mistakes happen, I overestimated the schlub. I went into a coma, and I guess my ticker stopped” – he pantomimes his beating heart with both hands, then stops and mimics a flatlining EKG while grinning – “because they buried me in some cheap shit coffin and put me in the ground! Two freakin’ decades out the window, sittin’ on my ass in that plywood box when I coulda been makin’ things happen, and all I got to show for it is at least I didn’t rot like every other poor bastard that got committed to the earth like I did.

“Then the bombs started droppin’ – this woulda been about three years ago – and I finally woke up. I don’t know, maybe some alarm clock in my head finally went off, but I wonder if maybe there isn’t something to all this fate business people talk about. You’re wonderin’ what I mean? Look around!” He literally looks left and right to make his point. “Babe, it’s the 80’s again! I skipped all that feel good philanthropy crap of the 90’s and double-ohs, and woke up in my world – a world where the people who know how to make it happen are the ones who run the place. You know what I’m talkin’ about.” He smiles. “First thing I did was went and hit up an associate, who had tragically already shuffled through his mortal coil, and helped myself to his wares – roids, uppers, a bit of nose candy, you know how it is – because I saw the way the wind was blowing, and I said, pretty soon it’s gonna pay to be strong, and I want the muscles to make it happen. Lookin’ at you, you’re the type of man that knows what that means, am I right?”

The traveler says nothing.

“So that’s me,” he continues. “That’s where I’ve been the past twenty-two years. Now I hang out here and ambush travelers for their supplies. They said, Harry, nothin’ good is gonna come stakin’ out the border between Florida and Pussy Central! I told ‘em what I always tell ‘em when they say it can’t be done: wait and see. So now here we are, you and me and the goons, and I’ve got the unenviable task of tryin’ to persuade a big hunk of man like yourself to turn over his supplies, and I’m gonna tell you this: don’t think of it as turning your shit over to the enemy. Couldn’t be further from the truth. Think of it as investing your food and water with a bunch of guys who know how to visualize a goal and then turn it into a reality. So whadda ya say?” Big smile.

“Yeah,” says a goon, “you don’t know what yer missin’! Gwee hee hee!” He slaps the giant on his hunch and feels something odd. “Eh?”

The traveler turns and glares at him. The terrified goon trips over his feet trying to back off.

“I think,” says the giant, turning back to the boss, “that it would have been better if you’d stayed in the ground.”

“ASSHOLE!” shouts some other goon, unsheathing a hatchet that has a knife coming out of the handle end. “No one talks to Harry Ellis like that!”

“Easy champ,” says Harry Ellis, putting up a hand to stop his minion. “I negotiate million gallon (of water) deals for breakfast. I think I know how to handle this Ameritrash. Sprechen sie talk? I think we’ve got a miscommunication here. You see, you’ve GOTTA turn over the food and water. That’s not part of the negotiation. What I’m sayin’ is that you can get your own fair share of those supplies back if you enlist – adjusted for the fact that you’d be the rookie, of course.”

“Yeah,” says some weasel-like little pipsqueak goon, “new rookie, new rookie!”

“Think of it this way,” says Harry Ellis. “Why don’t you tell me what you want outta life, what you’re doin’ out here in the middle of bumfuck country getting’ mugged by goons, and we can have a discussion instead of gettin’ ugly.”

“I want to find … the strongest.”

Harry Ellis cocks his head. “Pardon?”

“The strongest man in America. They say he can make me stronger.”

The goons murmur among themselves. “Look, I gotta be blunt,” says Harry Ellis. “That’s a very nice goal and all, but if you don’t make the right decision here, you’re not gonna see anybody stronger than this” – he gestures to his huge muscles – “ever again. Capisce?”

“He’s in Pussy Central,” says the giant. “They say he has a village there.”

“Look,” cautions Harry Ellis. “Giant. BOOHBIE. Maybe this decision will be easier once we’ve liberated you of your possessions? Lassie, lighten his load a bit.”

A monstrous goon steps out of the crowd. Because of horrendous birth defects, his face is elongated like a dog’s. He is naked and walks with a limp. Lassie grabs the hunchback to rip off his blanket, but stops.

“Ah?”

Suddenly his fucking head snaps back ridiculously far! He finds himself looking at the goons behind him, upside-down. His neck is obviously horrendously broken. After a few comical seconds, he collapses in a heap.

“HE KILLED LASSIE!” screams one of the goons. “NO MERCY!” screams another.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says Harry Ellis. “Now. That was a nice move, whatever it was, but you just killed one of our most senior members. So … unless the next words out of your mouth are that you plan on replacing him, we’ve got a problem.” He waits for a response.



“Yippee kai yay, motherfucker.”

The goons don’t even wait for orders! Dozens of them simultaneously leap into the air, swinging various bladed and blunt primitive weapons. The traveler moves for the first time, throwing his blanket into the air. As the goons travel toward him in midair, he puts his arms out to both sides, and then brings them in front of him. Simultaneously, all the goons are forcibly plucked out of the air and smashed into a large clump in front of him!

“Wha, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" scream the goons.”

With his blanket off, it becomes clear that the hunchbacked giant is neither a hunchback nor a giant. With the cloak gone, so is his hump. He’s just an average sized man with curly black hair. His black blanket falls to the ground …

And leaves an unconscious human being floating in midair above him!

“Dah, wha,” stammers Harry Ellis.

“Trash … you need to be eliminated before this nation can return!” The traveler claps his hands together and the granfagoon explodes like a Mortal Kombat fatality!

The terrified Harry Ellis, now completely alone and helpless, looks at the traveler and the man floating above him. His hovering companion has short blond hair. “Hey, wait,” says Harry Ellis, “I get it now, you were carryin’ him! You’re those two guys! The brothers from Cuba! You guys are way stronger than all my men put together. We can start over, with you replacing my goons! No, wait!” He gets down on his knees. “I’ll serve you! I've never been to Pussy Central, never really seemed like my cup of tea, but what the hell, there's a first time for everything!”

“I only want to find the strongest,” says the traveler.

“Yeah, the strongest.” Harry Ellis reaches behind his back and pulls out some ridiculously elaborate knife. “Best of luck …”

HARRY ELLIS SWINGS THE KNIFE AT THE TRAVELER … BUT HIS HEAD EXPLODES! The body of Harry Ellis falls on top of the pile of blood and guts that used to be his men.

“I only want to find the strongest,” repeats Al Sparta, as Nick remains suspended, unconscious, above his head. “The one called …

“ROULETTE!”

[Vinny]

That promo was amazing. Motherfucking Harry Ellis.

[Big Fagot]

Non-promo story continuation!



Nick Sparta walks through the forests of Pussy Central, which for some reason is in the deep south when Rapealachia is up in Pennsylvania which makes no fucking sense and what were you thinking. He carries a huge green sack over his back. Its contents are dense and very lumpy.

“So you found me …”

An old man gathers wood for a fire. His body is covered by a hooded cloak. Nick sets down his bag against a tree. It settles and flops over.

“Seems more like you found me,” says Nick, turning to face the old man. “Do I know you?”

“I know you,” responds the old man, picking up some twigs. “I know that you're one of the elemental brothers.”

“Elemental?” N-nani?

The old man looks up. His face is shadowed by his hood. “You're the one that attacks from without, right?”

“How do you know me?”

The mystery man stands up straight. His hands are filled with firewood. “You two were the great hope of Conner. You were their chief project. You can bet they're looking for you. … You want to know about yourself, right?”

“I know enough,” says Nick, adopting a fighting stance.

“You do?” says the old man gayly. “You forgot everything when they operated on your brain. You don't even understand your own abilities. Shall I explain them to you?”

Nick says nothing.

“Your nervous system has the unique characteristic of emitting a substantial electromagnetic field. You must be familiar with the basics of it by now: the ability to push or pull at a distance, as though using invisible hands. It's an interesting power; my nerves can move the world too, but only by making my hands do it for them.

“Your brother is interesting as well. His nervous system commands a gravitomagnetic effect that allows him to use gravitons the way you use photons. It might even be more astonishing than your ability. By bending the space we live in, he changes the rules of battle just by fighting. To view a fight as a game of football, you're a fast runner and hard to knock over, but he is the field beneath your feet.

“As for the relationship between the two of you, an infusion of entangled particles -”

“What about your ability?” shouts Nick. “Roulette!”

The wood in the old man's hands explodes! As the twigs fall to his feet, he rips off his cloak.

“I'll teach you the hard way, then,” says the old man.



See you at Abhorrent Anathema!

[Big Fagot]

I just remembered I had gone the whole month without ever explaining anything.

[Big Fagot]

Signature move!

Name: Bait and switch

Who can use: Nick and Al

Description: User gets his opponent to look in the opposite direction from his brother's unconscious body, either by locking up with him or some other way. Then he goes limp, and before the opponent knows what's happening, the other brother attacks from behind.



Signature move!

Who can use: Nick

Description: With distance between Nick and the opponent, he punches air, and the phantom punch connects.