Dragon Ball: Enlisted

After the instructors wrapped up their dramatic introductions, they ordered us to follow them through the facility. I wasn't entirely sure if we were on the Galactic Patrol's headquarters, on some random planet, or floating in the middle of space. But I wasn't about to ask.

That was the kind of question that would either get me laughed at or labeled as dangerously incompetent.

Since we were just silently walking, I decided to pull up my status. Hopefully they would take me blankly staring into the air as just being focused.

Above all, I wanted to know what that title did. I'd fought tooth and nail for it, so it'd better be damn good.

o–o

Title(s) Unlocked:

[F-Class]

+50% stat gain from training if the user is within Galactic Patrol territory.

o–o

Huh. That was a suspiciously good title for just joining the Galactic Patrol.

Then again, it kind of made sense once I thought about it. The blue guy, Gruen, said that F-Class is a rank purely for the recruit training program, so of course the title would just improve training gains and nothing else.

With that out of the way, I started mindlessly poking around the system to kill time.

'Party. Inventory. Shop. Uh, fuckin', I don't know… Ooh! I know, Observe!'

…Nothing. 

I rolled my eyes and dropped the interface. Of course that wouldn't work.

The walk stretched on. Seriously, how big was this place?

Eventually, we reached a large chamber lined with rows of doors on either side.

Gruen clapped his hands once. "Alright, listen up. You'll be divided into rooms of five. No exceptions. I'd prefer if you all got along, but I honestly don't care as long as you tolerate each other."

Calia stepped forward, scrolling through what looked like a tablet in her hands. "Actually, just check the terminal on the wall. Your names will be listed there along with your assigned room." Her gaze narrowed slightly. "And don't try to swap rooms without authorization. We'll know."

Aprico yawned, his arms crossed as he stood there like an intimidating statue.

I was starting to get the impression that Calia was the only one who was prepared for this job…

Slowly, my fellow recruits began moving to the terminals. I hung back, letting the eager ones crowd ahead since there was no point rushing.

When the initial traffic thinned out, I stepped up to the glowing screen. Scanning the list, I found my name near the bottom.

Room 17-B. 

I skimmed the other names on the list, but I didn't recognize any of them. Though the only names I knew were in the Galactic Patrol were Merus, Jaco, and… Giya? Pretty sure that was his name.

Since they didn't give us anything, I just headed down the hall empty-handed. Room 17-B was on the left, tucked at the end of the corridor. 

The door slid open with a soft hiss as I approached, revealing a plain, almost cramped room with five beds lined up against the walls. Each one was tucked into the wall with a closet attached, so I guess we had our own space for belongings.

Two recruits were already there, settling into their space.

One was a sharp-eyed humanoid with orange skin and permanent boredom etched into his face. His weird earholes looked straight out of the Dragon Ball playbook.

The other…

Yeah, the other guy was a little more noteworthy.

A towering, bipedal crocodile—brown-scaled and easily three meters tall—was busy organizing his closet.

When I stepped in, he flicked his eyes toward me. His voice rumbled low and dry like rocks grinding together.

"17-B?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Just pick a bed. Doesn't matter which."

…Fair enough. 

I dropped onto the nearest one and laid flat, staring at the ceiling. Today had been… a lot. I still hadn't processed how insane this was, but whatever. Sleep first. Existential crisis probably never.

'I am the bone of my sword. Suppressing my valid feelings is my body, and unhealthy coping is my blood.'

My arm throbbed faintly. I ignored it.

Minutes passed in silence until the door opened again. The remaining recruits filed in—three of them, surprisingly female.

I think. Not totally sure about the last one.

Two-thirds of the women looked human as well, and I was starting to realize that most Dragon Ball aliens were just oddly colored humans. 

The first was a short woman with pink skin and blonde hair. She carried herself with sharp focus and didn't acknowledge the crocodile when he repeated his question. She just glanced at him and sat.

The second walked like she'd been born in a boot camp. Red skin, silver hair. I squinted.

'She kinda looks like Jeice,' I thought idly. The crocodile didn't say anything this time—he just stared at her, eyes wide.

'Is this love at first sight? …How would that even work?'

The last recruit was a tiny, round alien with antennae. I only assumed she was female because of her squeaky voice and purple skin.

No one was talkative. The room sank into what I felt was an awkward silence.

Calia's voice suddenly crackled over the intercom.

"Lights out in ten minutes. If you're injured, drink the recovery tonic in your storage. Do not stay up. We're doing assessments first thing in the morning."

On cue, the ceiling lights slowly dimmed, casting long shadows across the room. 

I was halfway to sleep when a voice rumbled from the corner. I quickly realized it was the chill crocodile guy.

"If any of you snore while I'm trying to sleep, I'll eat you." He said calmly, as if he hadn't just threatened our lives.

I sighed internally. Tsk, tsk.

'Doesn't this guy know that he's going to look like an asshole for saying something like that on the first day?'

Before I could even roll my eyes, the orange guy chimed in.

"Agreed."

In the dim light, I saw the purple alien raise her miniature arm.

"I concur!" She squeaked. I think she was the one who nervously squeaked earlier.

Like a wildfire, a chorus of agreements spread through the room, startling me. Didn't these people at least want to have a good working relationship? Did no one care how unhinged this sounded?

Weren't we supposed to be heroes of justice or whatever drivel Jaco spews all the time?

I yawned and shrugged mentally. Whatever.

Galactic Patrol or not, I was too tired to care. Hopefully, that tonic would heal me up by morning time.

"Yeah, I agree," I parroted.