I wrote this little fiction because I always felt sorry for Master Roshi being reduced from a fighting badass to a comic relief character. Sure the other human characters became somewhat useless as well, but at least they got some spotlight time in Z. So anyway, this is my little tribute to an old martial arts legend.

Master Roshi jerked awake from his nap, his favourite magazines sliding off his lap as he sat up in his lawn chair, disturbed by the rumble of distant thunder and, something else. How long had he been napping? He yawned, lifted his sunglasses, rubbing his bleary eyes which then shot wide open at seeing the angry dark grey storm-clouds engulfing the clear, sunny blue sky that had stretched from horizon to horizon not a few hours before. He'd come out here to relax with a drink, a snack and some reading material, even getting some pleasant shuteye out of the deal only to be crudely awakened by….What the heck was going on out there?

Extending his senses he could feel all kinds of mayhem breaking out across earth, so much evil energy, He could sense the dark energies of many defeated villains, some he knew from times past, others only from tales told, and the Z warriors had their hands full dealing with them.

"Eh, what is it with this dang planet anyway? Why are we always playing host to every super-powered Neanderthal with something to prove? Why can't they go bother some other planet for once?" He complained aloud, rising from his reclining lawn chair and walking to the water's edge, noticing how violent and choppy the surf had become with all the chaos transpiring abroad. It was as if every denizen of hell had escaped purgatory to haunt the world of the living, only these ghosts were doing more than making spooky noises, they were actually killing people.

Master Roshi stared out across the turbulent sea for some while, taking in the full scale of the catastrophe until he finally decided to find out just what the hell was going on. His mental telepathy wasn't nearly as versatile or well-honed as that King Kai fella's, but, yes, good, Goku was still on the planet, for now.

Roshi reached out, locking on Goku's Ki signature; it took all of his concentration to cover and maintain a link over that distance, but he managed. Yeah he still had tricks the other Z fighters hadn't mastered, they don't call him Master Roshi for nothing after all

"Goku, hey Goku, can ya hear me?" Roshi projected the message, knowing he needn't be loud about it. Old Master Shen used to love scaring people with loud, abrupt telepathic messages; the jerk.

The response was almost immediate "M-Master Roshi? Is that you? Haha-man, I didn't know you could communicate telepathically, this is awesome." Goku laughed, blissfully knowing he needn't think his response too loud either.

"Hehehe, yep, I never taught you everything I know. Old masters like me have always gotta keep some edge over the younger generations, ya know."

Just then a third very nasal sounding voice butted in, one that didn't have the common decency to not mentally yell though telepathy, making Roshi yelp in surprise "Hay, who is that?! Get off my telepathic line this instant you good for nothing psychic freeloader! Damn it Goku, who are you talking to?!"

"Oh, King Kai, you can hear us?"

"Of course I can hear you! Somebody just hijacked my outgoing telepathic link! I mean really, the nerve of people these days, I pay my line rental bills, which incidentally are so exorbitant they make human phone companies look like charities! So the last thing I need is some lowlife tellee-pirate sponging my precious minutes!" The voice noisily grumbled with agitated, snorting laughter "Honestly, I'm telling you Goku, back in my day this kind of disrespectful behaviour would have gotten someone spanked!"

"I'll give you a good spanking if you don't quit your buffoonish shouting! We're not deaf you silly twit!"

"Buffoonish shouting?! How dare you?! first you muscle in on my personal psychic wave-link, and now you have the nerve to abuse me through it! ME!?"

"You're link? This is my link. If anything you're the airwave thief here, not me! So why don't do us a favour, think your loudmouth mind out of here and get your own darn line! I'm trying to talk to my former student here and I'd appreciate a little telle-courtesy, thanks you very much!"

"Your former student?! Have you got a screw loose?! Goku's my former student, not yours!….Go on Goku, tell him! I was your favourite teacher; I even taught you the secret of good joke telling." King Kai snorted back.

"Goku. Who is this obnoxious oaf? And why is he yelling at me?" Master Roshi demanded evenly.

"Obnoxious?! I'll show you obnoxious!"

"Uhh, guys?" Goku tentatively cut in with a nervous laugh "There's no need to argue, I'm sure this whole telepathic airwave thieving thingy is, all just a big misunderstanding." Goku's soothing moderation, while heartfelt, failed.

"Says you!" The nasal interloper huffed "But telle-hacking is a very serious crime Goku, not to mention a despicable invasion of privacy." The sour puss on the other end grumbled.

"Uh come on King Kai, just relax, it's not that big a deal is it?" Goku reasoned.

"Grrr; oh I suppose not." King Kai grumbled.

"Ah, so you're King Kai, huh?" Roshi mused "Not big on first impressions are you?"

"What?! Why you discourteous!….Goku! Who is this rude individual?!" King Kai demanded.

"Uh, that's just Master Roshi, my first teacher. Err, well second if you include my Grandpa Gohan." Goku laughed "Anyway, I guess that's why you're calling master, to find out what's going on."

"Yep, the whole world going crazy out there and all the racket of it disturbed my nap, dag-nab-it!"

"Awww, poor baby." King Kai guffawed scornfully.

"Oh shut up you."

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what's happening;" Goku mused, ignoring the argument "All of these old bad guys are coming back from the dead, it's the weirdest thing, not that it isn't nice to see old friends again. Is this why you're contacting me King Kai? Because you know what's going on?"

"Well if this dolt would quit hogging the tellee-waves and let me get a word in edgeways, I might actually be able to explain what happened!" King Kai grumbled and went into a detailed explanation of the explosion of a machine full of evil energy and the strange happenings in Other World and the Check in station that led to the residents of hell escaping. He specifically stated Goku had to get there now and see what the heck was happening.

"Alright then," Goku said, cheerily as ever "Guess I'll go check in on the check in station."

"HA! Good one Goku!" King Piggie oinked with laughter "Check in on the check in station! Ahh that's gold."

"Pfff, at least I taught him stuff that's actually useful." Roshi mentally grumbled "All this goof taught him was how to crack lousy jokes."

"I heard that you no good rotten!…."

"Well guys, I gotta go; and don't worry Master Roshi, I'll have this sorted in no time, so just sit back with one of your magazine and relax….King Kai, I'll be there in a jiffy." And just like that, Goku left the telepathic link.

"Check in at the check in station;" Roshi shook his head dejectedly "Really Goku, you've got to choose your teachers better."

"CHah-Hum, I'm still here you know…." King Kai's throat clearing made Roshi scowl "And for the record, you can't criticize my teaching methods. I've heard about some of your training ethics, like getting your students to find you a date before you'll train them; absolutely shameless."

"Yeah?! Well it beats chasing monkeys and insects ya bloated, blue-bellied hack."

"Ohh, that's real mature!….Hey wait, where are you going?! I'm not through with you yet!" King Kai called, feeling Roshi closing his side of the telepathic link "Don't you dare hang up on me! Don't you dare even think about…!" King Piggie squealed.

"Bye…" Roshi drawled and did just that, hung up King Kai's own line on him. Yeah, he'd only just figured out it was the obnoxious Kai's line he'd gotten tangled with and ultimately hijacked due to them both trying to contact Goku at the same time. It made Roshi smile, an expression that suddenly jolted off his face when the Ki signature of a long dead acquaintance hit him hard in the memory muscle, physically staggering him.

"Demon King Piccolo…..It's been awhile."

Ki flaring, fluctuating, that dreadfully familiar Ki, recalcitrant as the monster of his teenage nightmares, and it was close too, only a few miles off. He also sensed other far smaller Ki signatures around it, fading, dying. There was a village in that direction, just beyond the cliff overlooking the beach where he'd first met Bulma; oh that had been his lucky day. Repressing a nosebleed, he refocussed on the raging power of that old nemesis then extended beyond it, wondering why nobody had come to deal with Piccolo Daimao. Yet none of the other Z warriors were nearby, probably occupied with more dangerous threats. Indeed that demon of yesteryear likely wouldn't registers as a tiny blip on the bad Ki radar of Earth's protectors today.

"Serendipity?..." He wondered "Or just plain old coincidence?"

It require no serious consideration, Master Roshi was the only one nearby who had a hope of stopping the carnage taking place. He might not save the village from the Demon Kings malice, but there were other settlements near it that he could. Sure the dragon balls could simply fix everything in the aftermath, but that was a coward's attitude. Besides, he was once the master of martial arts, it used to be his job to stand up for the ones who couldn't protect themselves; and in a way, it still is.

Guess it's gonna take one old hero to deal with another old villain…..Hmm. But am I really up to this?" Master Roshi mused, only to realize he was already hurrying into Kame House to prepare, experiencing and displaying an eagerness for the good old days he'd never expected to feel again.

Turtle was napping by the fire, Oolong was away visiting at Capsule Corp and his former student, Krilling, along with his ever sexy wife, Eighteen, were out there fighting the good fight with the others, so nobody questioned his meaningful gate.

The day outside was looking more miserable by the second. Master Roshi could feel the gathering energy above, the electricity. A storm was coming, a big one packing gale force winds that even now howled and beat upon the pink walls of his humble abode.

Quickly he dressed in his old, more battle worthy black and white Martial Arts GI since fighting in a tropical shirt, shorts and flip-flops was not ideal. He also put aside his favourite sunglasses as they weren't needed and would only get broken. Ready and set in scantly over a minute, he rushed outside, keeping the noise to a minimum so as not to wake that damn turtle.

Master Roshi knew what Turtle would say "No, Master, you can't beat him, please, leave it to the others to deal with and stay here where it's safe."

Safe? HA! Yeah right. And since when did he, the Master of Martial Arts, back down from a fight? Whether he'd be outclassed or not didn't matter, it's not a question of skill or ability, but a question of doing what had to be done to stop the slaughter of innocents…AND, to balance old debts.

Besides, if that loud mouth fool Mr Satan was dumb enough to attack Cell head on "I'm not even going to finish that thought, nor am I going to get into what a load of wasted potential Mr Satan is."

Roshi stepped back outside, amazed how quickly the ominous weather had intensified over a mere two minutes. But he had other matters to consider, transportation foremost among them.

Master Roshi and the Nimbus Cloud had a rather troubled history. Rarely did it ever consent to carry him anywhere, thus why he gave it to Goku. But if what he sensed was true, King Picolo, his ancient nemesis wasn't far from his little island paradise, lurking about on the outskirts of the western mainland just beyond the beach, killing. Would Nimbus come if he called? Roshi wasn't sure it would, but it was worth a shot.

"Flying Nimbus!" He boomed, voice so serious and full of purpose that for a second he swore the choppy wind driven waves lapping at his little beach rolled backwards. He waited, and waited, but still nothing. He considered calling again but, no, Nimbus Clouds aren't deaf, they simply don't like him and lack his enthusiasm for the finer things in life, specifically the finer –female- things "Drat, stupid cloud, guess I've got to ride baby Gamera; oh well…..Baby Gamera!"

The wait was even shorter than he recalled. The big spinning turtle appeared, Roshi already felt dizzy just watching it come in to land.

"Boss?…..it's been a while. You don't call, you don't…..call. Figured you kicked the bucket years ago." The black turtle commented, tactful as ever.

"I did, but you can't keep an old master down, especially when you've got powerful friends and seven dragon balls to back you up."

"Heeeey, that's great." Gamera drawled sarkily "So, where ya headed?"

"West to that beach, we've been over it before, just drop me at the ridge, I can walk from there."

"You got it boss. Hop on and buckle up."

"Ha! You haven't changed one bit; still sarcastic as ever." Master Roshi commented.

"And you're still as perverted as ever I'll bet, so let's not go throwing stones here." Gamera rasped.

"Sounds good to me." Roshi said, jumping to sit in a meditative lotus position on the black turtle's back.

Gamera began to rotate faster and faster, rising quicker than Roshi remembered, though he sure hadn't forgotten the feeling of this particular mode of transportation. Closing his eyes and focusing inward helped if he recalled right. He'd still be dizzy as hell by the end though, a fact reinforced as they whizzed over the open blue ocean, the water a mutating circular square spinning like a blur beneath him. Luckily he didn't look up because watching those fluffy near black storm-clouds spiral into a swirling vortex might cost him his half-digested lunch and most of his sanity.

Not a few minutes later Gamera eased into a slow, steady decent, landing atop a cliff not far from where the Demon King in all his pettiness had just moved on from crippling a small village and it's populous "Aw-no, I'm too late….I'm sorry." He grieved for the villagers who died because of his slow rusty reactions. Perhaps he wasn't cut out for this lifestyle anymore after all.

Shaking the self-sabotaging thoughts, Master Roshi jumped off Gamera's back, stood on the spot, waited till he felt he'd stabilized the disorientation, then took a tentative step forward and was immediately assaulted with a major case of vertigo. He Staggered about like a drunk a whole dozen beers over the limit before face-planting into the grass "Ugghh. Why didn't I bring a bath-bag?" He moaned, the world's perpetual spinning gradually subsiding.

"Hehe; just like old times. You alright boss?" Baby Gamera asked.

"Yeah, yeah, fine and dandy, it's just been a while since I rode, still not used to it." Baby Gamera made a disapproving noise but Roshi didn't hear as he picked himself up "Anyway, thanks for the lift." He offered sincerely, if still on the verge of puking a yellow-brown fountain.

"Yeah-yeah," Baby Gamera grunted then spun up and away, calling "Call when you ready to go back. I won't be far." Master Roshi waved feebly in response, gathered his wits, donned his old Martial Artist's calm discipline and got down to business walking to the ridge overlooking where he knew a peaceful little settlement of villagers and farmers lived and thrived. The great pillars of smoke and distant crackle of fire and grinding rubble didn't fill him with optimism that he'd gotten here in time.

Making it to the edge of the ridge, he peered down on the sight he'd feared. Seeing the destruction, strewn dead and smoke rising to meet the gathering storm clouds up-high, a familiar burning anger and gut-churning nostalgia blazed to life within his heart. He sensed Piccolo moving beyond, into the baron rocky climate and dark dead land skirting the once prosperous village.

Roshi leapt the full eighty foot drop off the overhang, landing in a scorched churned up potato field whereupon he broke out into a full on sprint. Once upon a time he'd ranked among the fastest people on this planet, but having seen his students surpass him so utterly, the inferiority began to hit home and he started feeling his age. Perhaps he should start training for real again, his exercise tapes are great and all, but sometimes a fella needs more than simple aerobics for the eyes. Indeed, he needed something to devote himself to, some cause, some, purpose; and he really did miss the Martial Artist's life.

In passing he briefly considered checking to see if anyone had survived, but reaching out with his Ki and sensing nothing, he held little hope good fortune had smiled on anyone here today. Better to catch up and deal with the monster responsible for of all this senseless death he decided, putting on an even greater burst of speed.

Master Roshi supposed he should be scared to be facing the very foe who'd basically killed him once before, if indirectly. But he wasn't afraid, resolute more like, even excited. He'd not been idle in retirement, laid back perhaps, indulgent of life's more sensuous pleasures, but even with these past years of relaxation he wasn't any weaker than he had been in the twenty second martial arts tournament despite keeping only a basic training routine. In fact he was a fair bit stronger.

Even if their bodies slow down, it's said an old master's mind is never still, his certainly hadn't been. Over the past years, despite his retirement, he'd come up with many untested ideas for new fighting techniques, and furthermore, through meditation he'd also developed his own personalized method of channelling Ki. When a fighter rushes an energy attack, it is usually riddled with minor impurities that aren't harmonized with the body and thus consume more energy than is needed for the attack. This technique fixes that, channelling 100% pure energy while at the same time boosting physical conditioning –and- quickening Ki generation, regeneration, gathering and output, especially for the Kamehameha wave.

Actually he could have measured his power level from that scouter thing Bulma had repaired twice and left at Kame house after forgetting about it, but Roshi really didn't care for the device. A true warrior is measured by their skill, tenacity, by their intellect and philosophies, by their spirit and resolve. Besides, it'd just be plain sad if he didn't know himself better than some flimsy machine did. All those numbers really stated was how much Ki someone –presently- possessed, not what they repressed. Okay, he'd concede that overwhelming brute force can win the day, but he'd take sharp whits and mental calm over raw, untamed power any day. What use is raw power if you can't master it? Or worse, if it masters you? He needed no scouter to tell him he was stronger than he had been when last he confronted Daimao. Nor did he need one to tell him that same monsters strength was still superior to his own.

Despite his disadvantage though, Roshi felt getting back into the game would do him some good, if only this once. He had after all lived longer than any of his friends excluding Korin, Mr Popo, the previous Kami and his nastier half not far ahead. The simple, sad truth though, is Roshi would likely outlive them all thanks to both the fountain of youth and the phoenix elixir he drank a bit over three hundred years ago. How time flies. He was creeping up on four hundred now and felt not a minute older than when he'd taken that first drink.

"Huh, I've been hanging around Goku and the other's too long, I'm starting to understand the thrill Saiyans get at the prospect of overcoming a challenge greater than themselves." He grinned, finding something obscurely humorous about that "Or maybe I'm finally going senile."

A feminine scream, an explosion, the deep, manic laughter of a sadistic tyrant, all sounds carried to him on the ripping howling wind a sped headlong through, sounds coming from the great clearing of baron rocky landscape ahead. Another female scream rode the air currents as Roshi burst from the trees, leaving the lush green village paradise, vibrant riverbeds and lush forest atmosphere behind him, running straight toward the cries for help and the old foe he'd come to face down one final time. He didn't have to run far, skidding to a halt at seeing the great eight foot tall figure a few dozen yards ahead. Green skin, pointed ears, the spitting image of his son who was now a family friend, for there he stood, the once mighty Demon King Piccolo, with his back presented in blissful ignorance.

"And better yet," Roshi thought with a perverse, lopsided grin shaping his moustache "A damsel in distress in need of rescuing." And a pretty damsel she was, lying there on the ground at the looming Demon King's feet, crying for someone to save her as her tormentor mocked and ridiculed her for being weak; it was a desperate call Master Roshi felt compelled to answer.

Oh yes, she was a beauty. Long, dark raven hair, a heart shaped face, delicate features, flawless skin, eyes a lovely green, legs long and finely muscled, shapely curves and generous boobies straining at her green kimono; his mind swelled with all the possible ways she might reward him for saving her.

"HO-WOAH-HA-YEAH Roshi! You hit the jackpot this time! Eh-he-he-he; play your cards right here and you'll get your revenge –and- the crazy sexy damsel lady in one go. How's that for incentive to win, eh? He-he-he." At the thought a fountain of blood spewed from Roshi's nose and he was unable to contain his excited whooping and dancing "Oh-yeah baby!" His pre-victory celebrations piqued his foes hearing, alerting him "Aww crap. There goes the element of surprise; damn you treacherous libido."

"Who the….?" The ancient bane of humankind whirled, his snarling cut short at seeing a ghost of the past.

"We meet again, Old Enemy Of Mine." Master Roshi declared in a deadly serious voice, eyes narrowing to fierce slits, mostly to save face.

"YOU!" King Piccolo bellowed, shocked and furious, not noticing the young lady scramble backwards and run off to hide behind some nearby dead trees and rock piles to peek wide eyed out at the standoff now taking place, tears welling.

Above them the dark woollen underbellies of rumbling storm clouds darkened the daylight, imprisoning the sun from sight. Sharp winds scoured the landscape of the dry, scantly grassed plane. Dusty air, cliffs, rocky outcrops and the odd dying tree littered the area where no tumbleweed dared roll and risk breaking the rising tension between two ancient foes staring each other down. The rains hadn't yet fallen, but they would, as they always must. Already swords of lightening lashed out at the world below with a ferocity verbalized in its cracking thunder.

"How fitting an atmosphere for vengeance." Master Roshi mused, smiling grimly; his vengeance, vengeance well-earned and open for the taking. It is only right he should be that taker, here, in this era when this old enemy wouldn't equate to a sporting contest fit for any of Earth's legendary defenders. No, this was his fight, his day, his vengeance; he, The Turtle Hermit, emerged from retirement for one, last, battle.

Master Roshi smirked. Today he might die, but to give this victory to Goku or one of the others would be pointless. There was a score to settle here, and they both knew it. Master Roshi only hoped the others were too distracted with hell's other escapees to sense this battle and deprive him of his closure.

"Yes, me;" Roshi finally answered "We have unfinished business, you and I; a debt on behalf of myself, and, my old teacher, Master Motaito!" He clenched his fist before him, it was steady with old, determined fury and did not shake.

"B-but, your dead;" Old Piccolo stammered "I watched you die by my own two hands!"

"Die?!...Yes!...At your hands?!...No! The last time I confronted you, monster, I failed only because the wind blew away the jar I intended to trap you in;" The memory still lingered in Roshi's mind, how he'd been so close, yet so far. How strange it was to think of it now. Had Roshi succeeded that day, Piccolo junior wouldn't have been born and Goku might never have bested his brother Raditz, and his brother would have come. Perhaps it might even have been Roshi himself to stand at Goku's side in that battle instead of his reincarnated nemesis. Scary thought.

Funnily enough the great Demon King suddenly looked worried "Failed, n-no. Then that means?!..." His eyes scanned the ground for a rice cooker jar, then not finding one, jolted back up at Master Roshi's mocking chuckles. The old man was grinning with unabashed smugness.

"Ah-he-he-ho, no-no Piccolo; no Evil Containment Wave this time;" Roshi reassured, shaking his head mirthfully "No, this time I'm going to put you down the old fashion way."

Will Master Roshi find the strength to best his ancient nemesis of yesteryear? Will he get the girl if he does? Or will one of the other Z fighters muscle in and steel his wind?….and most importantly. Will I get fired from my job as narrator for asking too many annoying, suspense building questions?...god I hope so…Uhm, anyway….Find out next time on the next exciting episode, of Dragon Ball Z!

Power Levels for the sake of those who care about such things

Master Roshi –skinny old man- base form : 182