IV. Servant Maxwell Rises From the Grave

"Well, that sounds just like you," Vegeta said with a growl, leaning back in his chair, "To run off and get killed without thinking how it'd effect other people. Do you have any idea just exactly how bored I've been?" Goku scratched the side of his head, looking up to think about it. "And what the hell is that you're wearing?" the prince stood and grabbed a hold of Goku's shirt to give his pin-locket a close inspection. "V.I.P.? What the hell is the meaning of this?" Vegeta demanded, sitting angrily in his chair. "I'm a very important person!" Goku declared happily, rubbing the back of his neck, "King Kai sent me to round up all the people that escaped!" Cell quietly began gathering his money and motioning for the Hell gang to slowly ease out of the room one by one.

"I see," Vegeta stated, clicking his tongue. He repeated slower, narrowing his eyes at the happy hero, "I see.." Pikkon nudged Goku, "Excuse me, Goku." The black-haired Saijin jumped in surprise, "Oh! Pikkon! Yes! Okay....Pikkon, this is Vegeta. Vegeta, this is Pikkon." Pikkon paused for a moment, his brow furrowing, and then he spoke in a false calm, "It's nice to meet you, Vegeta." The prince huffed, leaning his chair up on two legs, muttering, "Sorry I can't say the same." Goku gave Vegeta a look, "Vegeta...that wasn't very nice." The smaller man's eyes flickered up as his fingers interlaced behind his head, hands supporting, "...Fuck you.." Goku frowned curtly at the reaction when Pikkon nudged him again. "Goku," the green man said, "I think we should keep focus to our mission." He pointed to Frieza who was the only member of the Hell gang left sitting there. "What?" the tyrant (or more should I say, ex-tyrant now that he's dead) questioned, looking at Cell's cards to make sure he wasn't somehow cheating. "Where'd the others go!?" Goku yelled in a panic, dropping down and looking under the table, "Oh no! They're not here!" Frieza, the only one left gave a shrug, "Maybe they went to play miniature golf." And it quite an odd thing to say, though what was even odder was that it was true.

***

"Four!" hollered Cell before he lightly tapped his club against the golf ball, sending it down a slope towards the hole. It swerved slightly to the right and stopped about three inches away from its intended destination. "Damnit," muttered the android, stepping to the side to allow the next person to go. Zarbon flipped his ponytail out of the way and tried his best to guesstimate how hard to hit and the angle of which he should do it at. "Hurry up!" Jeice complained, tapping his foot. The green-skinned alien finally hit the ball, which stopped about three inched to the left of the hole. "Hey," Recome said, "I just had a thought." The Hell gang instantly froze in their positions. "Recome," Burter mentioned, though hesitantly, "You haven't thought for yourself in, well...ever." Another uneasy pause ensued and Cell took this time to nudge his ball closer to the hole without actually knocking it in. "Yes, but," the red-head began his defense, "Where's Ginyu?" Another pause commenced as the undead stared at each other. Cell carefully moved Zarbon's ball further from the hole. Stumped, the late Ginyu force stood around staring out into space. The silence was disrupted at once when Cell gave a startled cry.

***

It was quite upset. Very quite upset. "Power to rip holesss in reality," it murmured sarcastically, angrily, "Power to tear the undead to piecesss and what am I ssstuck doing? Messssssenger ssservice. I think this "possstal worker" will go possstal!" With an air of no patience it went down the street, ignoring the stares it received, still muttering to itself. "That baka brother of mine," it said, hissing at the thought. Throwing its head back, it screamed to the world, "BAKA! BAKA! BAKA! BAKA! BAAKAAA!" Feeling slightly relieved, it resumed its mission. With a large swing of its tail the front doors were knocked down and into the casino it slid. "Alright!" shouted a large eight foot tall snake with an impressive wing span, "Where the BLAZESSS iss Anubissss!?" A few people dropped instantly, having fainted from extreme shock. A few glasses broke as they were dropped.

"NO ANUBISS!?!?" the snake roared, looking extremely pissed off, "OH DAMN NATION! BASSSTARD, BASSSTARD, BASSSTARD!" It made a motion that resembled jumping up and down and stomping one's feet if it had had feet, which it didn't. "Where did he go!?" the creature demanded more than asked, "WHERE DID HE GO!?" Some brave soul ventured to raising his hand. "E-Excuse me sir, er," the man stepped forward, his eyes occasionally glancing up to meet the snake's gaze, "But who exactly is Anubis?" The snake threw its head back and yelled so loud that everyone in the nearby vicinity could clearly make out the one word it spewed in rage, "BAAAAAAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

***

When Cell had gone to play miniature golf he had every intention to win. He had decided to cheat to obtain this, and even had planned on using cheating as a method to obtain his goal. However, he did not plan on a pale grey hand reaching up from under the matting of the green on the course and grasping a hold of his wrist. Surprised, he gave a startled cry and promptly fell over onto his rump. Another hand erupted from the ground, and slowly both hands helped pull up a pale grey body still fully clothed. "Oh bloody Hell," the person said, dusting off his dirty trench coat, "I told them not to bury me here. I told them I had the most fearful notion they'd build a friggin' miniature golf course over me. Unmarked grave and all, no one would know I was here. Bloody Hell." He looked down at Cell, "Thanks my dear chap. For waking me up that is. Only the presence of one who's sinned with no remorse could awaken me. You know, not many murderers go to play miniature golf. Friggin' lucky you came along. My Master would be right happy to reward you, I'm sure."

"Master? Reward?" Cell asked, gaining his composure and standing. "Right so," the man said, trying to brush off the dirt that seemed imbedded in him, "Wonder why he hasn't been searchin' for me sooner. 'Pose Lucifer might've gotten down right cranky. That sucker never could quite play cards well, though he prided himself on poker for some reason. Ah well, bloody Hell to those gents who buried me. Didn't have the decency to give me my hammer." The Hell gang blinked at all this random information. "Excuse me," Zarbon suddenly leapt into the conversation, "but, What?" The man shrugged and put his hands in his pockets only to frown. He removed his hands and dropped a handfuls of dirt onto the ruined green of hole thirteen, looking everywhere but at the people he was talking to, "My hammer. My silver hammer. Damn thing was a great weapon. My only weapon. A present from oh...what's her name? Seh...Se....Something or other. Quite a nice lady. My master loved it. Would often play with it himself, so o' course it's blessed now. Or cursed, I suppose, depending on how you look at it." He finally let his gaze rest across the aliens. "Would you say," the man questioned in an entirely innocent manner, "That contracting the HIV virus by no physical method a curse?" Jeice shifted his weight, "Well, I'd say that's a definite yes, mate." The man frowned and ran a hand through his hair which removed more dirt, "Ah. I see. Quite funny, really. I was dying, you see, and I got HIV, you see? The next thing I know, I'm cured. Quite queer, don't you think?" There was a pause at the oddity of it all, but mainly because the man said "queer". Finally Cell got enough nerve to ask what truly wanted to be asked at that moment, "Who in the Hell are you?"

"Oh geez. Gosh, completely forgot about that, chaps," the man said, giving a small courteous bow, "My name is Maxwell, and you may call me Maxwell." As he stood he put his hands back into his trench coat pockets, "Now, may I ask, have you seen a silver hammer?"