The Schizophrenic

At the end of the shopping district, a heavily modified motorcycle roared into the pedestrian zone like a raging bull, careening wildly through the street.

Stalls along the roadside were smashed to pieces, scattering fruit and trinkets everywhere.

A woman was riding the motorcycle.

Her wild, frizzy blond hair shone in the sunlight with a fiercely untamed glow.

Her dark green crop top outlined her powerful figure. She carried a Rocket Launcher thicker than her thigh, chewed gum, and stared ahead with a feverish, vicious gleam in her eyes.

Golden Haired Lanchi.

The most unstable bomb in early Dragon Ball—a double-personality bandit.

"Hahahaha! Anyone who doesn't want to die, get out of my way! That armored car up ahead is mine!"

Lanchi steered with one hand while expertly adjusting the Rocket Launcher's angle with the other, aiming straight at the entrance to the West City Bank in the distance.

The crowd around them erupted into chaos.

"Ahhh! It's that crazy woman!"

"Run! She's got heavy weapons!"

"Where are the police? Where are they?!"

Screams and cries of panic filled the air.

Bulma was startled by the sudden turn of events, and the hair clip in her hand fell to the ground.

"Honestly, I finally get a chance to go shopping..."

Bulma frowned, but she wasn't too worried. The strongest man on Earth was standing right beside her.

"Krillin, look! Isn't that Lanchi?"

Krillin didn't answer right away. Instead, he watched the blond woman with interest. The System Panel flickered before his eyes:

[Special individual detected: Lanchi (blond-haired form)]

[Personality: short-tempered, greedy, extremely dangerous]

[Current threat level: D (to ordinary people), SSS (to wallets)]

"Interesting!"

A playful smile tugged at Krillin's lips.

"Looks like I've found somewhere to 'expend my energy.'"

Just then, several police cars came roaring up, attempting to intercept Lanchi.

"Criminal up ahead! Drop your weapon—"

"Drop dead!"

Lanchi spat and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

BOOM!

A rocket with menacing graffiti on its casing streaked toward the police cars, trailing a long plume of fire.

Faced with its terrifying speed and the imminent explosion, everyone shut their eyes in despair.

"We're done for!"

Yet the explosion they expected never came.

It was as if the world had been brought to a standstill.

A blur flashed past, too fast for the eye to follow.

When everyone opened their eyes again, the bald man had somehow appeared between the police cars and the rocket.

He was still carrying bags of shopping, and his posture had barely changed. He had simply freed his right hand and held it out in front of himself.

The rocket, powerful enough to blow up an entire street, now sat obediently in his palm.

Its rear thruster still spewed flames wildly, trying to propel the warhead forward, but Krillin's hand was like an immovable wall, holding it firmly in place.

"Th-That's impossible?!"

The gum fell from Lanchi's mouth, and her sunglasses slipped down to the tip of her nose. She stared wide-eyed at the bald man who had caught a missile with his bare hand, her mind completely blank.

That was an anti-tank rocket!

It could punch a hole in a steel plate. Was that guy's hand made of diamond?

Krillin glanced at the warhead vibrating in his hand and smiled faintly.

"Is this your welcome gift? You're a little too enthusiastic."

He clenched his five fingers.

SQUEEAK—!

The grating sound of metal twisting filled the air.

The high-explosive warhead was like a lump of soft putty in his grasp, crushed flat and kneaded round.

The explosive inside detonated under the pressure with a muffled pop. A few wisps of black smoke seeped between Krillin's fingers, but they didn't even leave a smudge on his skin.

A few seconds later, Krillin opened his hand.

A metal flower made from scrap, still steaming and crafted in an extremely "abstract" style, lay quietly in his palm.

"Here. It's yours."

Krillin flicked his wrist, and the "iron flower" shot toward Lanchi like a streak of light.

CLANG!

The flower lodged squarely in the gas cap of Lanchi's motorcycle, buried deep enough to make the paint sizzle from the heat.

The entire crowd fell silent.

Then thunderous cries of amazement erupted.

"Oh my god! Who's that bald guy? He's so cool!"

"He crushed a missile with his bare hands? Is he Superman?"

"That's Krillin, the Martial Arts Tournament champion! I recognize that bald head!"

Lanchi stared at the iron flower on her gas tank, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead.

As a bandit with sharp instincts, she immediately realized she'd just picked a fight with the toughest opponent she'd ever faced.

"Retreat!"

Lanchi made up her mind at once, turned her motorcycle around, and tried to flee.

"You came all this way. Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Krillin's voice suddenly sounded beside her ear.

Lanchi stiffened. Before she could react, she felt a tug on the back of her collar.

She and her motorcycle, which weighed over a hundred jin, were lifted into the air with one hand!

Krillin held Lanchi aloft as easily as if she were a little chick.

"Let go of me, you damn bald bastard! If you've got the guts, fight me one-on-one!"

Lanchi struggled wildly in the air, kicking her long legs and firing her submachine gun at Krillin in a burst of bullets.