Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan Homecoming ❯ Battle, Pt 3: Of Tranquilizer Guns and Body Casts ( Chapter 7 )

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long, but I've been really busy, really stressed, and depression is slowly getting the better of me. About the time I start to feel better, something else happens and I just get depressed again. This chapter didn't quite work the way I wanted it to, but it's a chapter. I'm going to focus on my Vegeta/Chichi story for a while now-you all have gotten 2-or maybe even 3-chapters since I've updated the other story now, and I need to be fair.

Once again…the address for the group (which gets excepts from my infamous hard-copy notebook) is:

http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/nadialist

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

A Saiyan Homecoming

Chapter 7: Battle, Pt 3: Of Tranquilizer Guns and Body Casts

What had once been the brick walls of Salazar's Shoe Store was now being hefted about as if the bricks were mere legos as two men frantically tried to get to the girl beneath the mess. Krillin hissed as another small piece of glass imbedded itself in his hand, but he ignored it and tossed the chunk of concrete over in a corner. Beside him, Yamcha was levering up an even larger piece of wall with a steel beam he had confiscated from a construction project a few blocks away. The man had shown up only a few minutes ago-and just in time. Bra's ki was fading fast-they had to get to her.

Bulma stood at the edge of the sidewalk, covered in dust and clutching Barden to her. The little boy had managed to sneak away from the zoo at the squad cars after Trunks had arrived, intent on helping Krillin, but the man had not allowed it. Instead he had gone to Bulma, offering what condolences he could to the distraught genius. Thankfully Yamcha had shown up-or else Krillin would never be able to get to Bra in time. Even now, with both men working full-speed, Barden could only just feel his friend.

"What I don't understand," Bulma rasped in a hoarse voice, "is why she didn't just go through the building. I've seen Saiyans thrown straight through mountains without a scratch-why some brick and glass would hurt her doesn't make sense."

Barden looked up at her, ignoring Yamcha's muffled swears as he stubbed his foot on a protruding iron spike. "But they were expecting it. Bra wasn't." He patted her hands in comfort. "She'll be ok. Saiyans are tough."

Bulma managed to give the boy a quick hug. "Yes, they are," she agreed. "That was a very brave thing you did earlier-getting between Vegeta's blast and your Mom. It could have killed you."

Barden shrugged. "It would have killed her, if I didn't do something," he murmured, watching as Krillin and Yamcha worked together to shift a massive pile of stuff at once. "I would have been sad if she died."

Bulma glanced down at the boy for a moment. Like his Uncle and Grandfather, Barden often appeared the innocent naïve bumpkin-but she knew he had a mind sharper than a steel trap beneath the spiky hair. "I think we all would, Barden. Your father would be very proud of you if he were here."

The boy's blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, Bulma? Dad is here."

"Your Dad is back?" Bulma felt the first stirrings of hope. "Is he at your house?" She fumbled for her cellular phone. "Why don't you call him and have him come help us out."

Barden stared at her like she was insane. "But Bulma-san, he's already here!" At her uncomprehending look he continued. "Bra attacked him in the street!"

Bulma felt sick as she realized what had happened. "You mean…that wasn't Radditz?"

Barden frowned. "That's what Grandma called him when she first saw him, too."

"It's ok, Bulma," Krillin assured hastily from his work in the rubble. "Without being able to sense ki, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. They look…a…lot…alike!" He grunted.

Bulma wiped the dust of her brow with a shaking hand. She had sicced Vegeta on Gohan? And then Vegeta had almost killed Gohan's family? They weren't going to stop until one of them was either dead or unconscious. "Oh sweet Kami," she moaned. "I'm so sorry, Dende!"

Barden watched calmly as Goten went flying into the same mall that his father had earlier, igniting a new chorus of screams amid the shattering glass and bricks. "I think he might want more than an apology this time, Bulma."

Bulma was saved from having to make a reply by Yamcha's shout. "We've got her!"

The blue haired woman whirled and began to scramble across the rubble to where the two men were standing next to a blood-covered lump nestled in the bricks. Barden, following her, was just barely able to make out the blue hair, silvered by dust, part of it tangled in a small pile of red platform sandals.

Bulma leaned over her daughter and let out a shriek that had Barden plugging his ears. Before either of the men could stop her, she was kneeling next to her daughter, trying to peer into her eyes. "Bra? Bra honey, can you hear me?"

The oldest of the galaxy's four female demi-saiyans didn't even groan.

Bulma, although obviously very worried, didn't let the lack of response faze her. Instead she carefully combed the blue hair away from the girl's face, and began taking stock of her injuries. They all winced when Bulma's fingers brushed across a stake that had pierced her daughter's shoulder. Bra, while still unconscious, shuddered and moaned. The action caused the wound to begin bleeding again, a pool of scarlet rapidly spreading across the girl and the rubble around her.

Bulma paled and ripped off her scarf, intending to try and stop the bleeding with pressure, but there was no way she could without either removing or twisting the spike, which would only make things worse.

Not even looking up as she continued to examine her daughter, she glanced at them. "We need to get her to Capsule Corps ASAP." She covered a particularly nasty head wound in Bra's scalp with the scarf and pressed down. "She's losing too much blood."

Barden, who still had Bulma's cell phone, quickly pressed the button that would connect him to Doctor Brief's private lab as Yamcha and Krillin, under Bulma's direction, carefully cut the girl away from the rubble she was still entangled in. On the fourth ring the good Doctor picked up, sounding somewhat annoyed at being disturbed. "What?"

"Doctor Briefs. This is Son Barden," the boy explained quickly, wanting to look away from the scene before him, but unable to. Yamcha had gently lifted the young Saiyan Princess from the ground, and Barden could see glass protruding from her back, stained scarlet with blood. "There's been an accident. Bulma's going to need to use the operating theatre-and a regen tank set for Bra."

Doctor Briefs was silent for a long moment. "They will be ready by the time you get here."

Barden cut the connection and jumped across the pile of rubble. There was a bench there that, if he could pull the seat of it off, they could use as a stretcher. But something else caught his eye. It had probably once been part of a stockroom shelf-but now the long sheet of metal had landed haphazardly on top of a car. Barden grabbed it and carried it back to the others.

In a few seconds they had Bra situated as best they could, using strips of curtains to secure her to the smooth metal. Bulma was sitting next to her head, still pressing down on the head wound. At Yamcha's gesture, Barden sat down next to her feet. He was still too drained to fly, let alone keep up with the more experienced warriors.

Yamcha and Krillin each grabbed an end and blasted off in the direction of Capsule Corps. Barden clung to the slick metal and stared at the bloodied ankles next to his knees, praying to Dende that Bra would be all right.

* * * * * * *

The actual battle that was taking place in the skies above downtown Satan city had come to a standstill. Not by choice: Vegeta and Gohan both still lusted after beating the other into an unrecognizable pulp, but the masses had finally prevailed. Trunks, better known as the Lone Saiyan, had one of his father's arms pinned behind his back while 18 was slowly taking great pleasure in wringing the life out of the other one. Vegeta, snarling, was straining against them, but Trunks was powered up just as far as he could get, and 18's occasional foot to the side of his head pretty much kept him contained.

Pan, Ubuu and Goten were having a much harder time with Gohan. Goten and Ubuu each had one of Gohan's arms and were hanging on for dear life. Pan was on her father's back-legs wrapped firmly around his chest, and her arms thrown across his neck. By necessity, she had a fistful of hair clenched tightly in each hand. She was trying to talk some sense into her normally sensible father, but was having as much of an effect as a bucket of water against a forest fire.

Physically restrained from attack, the two Saiyans were limited to sparring verbally. Fortunately for the bystanders, they had chosen to scream their insults at each other in Saiyago, leaving most of the small crowd blissfully ignorant of what was being said.

Unfortunately, three of those trying to stop the battle could understand each filthy, slanderous word that rent the air. And in true Saiyan fashion, they were responding to the family insults that were being thrown back and forth. When Vegeta insulted Barden's intelligence with a degrading phrase, Pan had had enough.

She relinquished her hold on her father and went after the stubborn Saiyan Prince herself, screaming back at him with a voice that could rival her infamous Grandmother's. Without her holding him back, Gohan was able to easily break free from the grips of his brother and Ubuu. When he charged at Vegeta, Trunks and 18 relinquished their hold on Vegeta, leaving the man free to defend himself.

The battle was back on-only this time Vegeta had two opponents.

* * * * * *

On the ground, Videl's life was about to get a lot more complicated. She had finally managed to orchestrate the movements of police and National Guard-getting everyone within a five-block radius evacuated, but things were about to get a lot more difficult.

The police choppers had arrived; as had the SWAT team. The Police Chief, having regained some control of his senses, was giving orders just as quickly as Videl was. Before she had realized what was going on, he had snipers scattered all around the block-guns trained on the mass of people floating in the middle of the street.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have bothered Videl in the slightest. She knew that all of the participants up there were pretty much bulletproof-but still, the thought of someone actually shooting at her friends and family unnerved her. Looking at the speed they were darting, she decided that none of the snipers would be able to hit them anyway.

But the police chief wasn't ready to use projectile firearms yet. He wanted to end this with as little bloodshed as possible. So he fell back upon riot control practices that he had not practiced in a long time. There was no way a fire truck could possibly get close enough to them, with the ruined street, to use a fire hose-but the Chief had read about a method once used to subdue rioting college students, and he was eager to try it.

Up in one of the police choppers, a custom-designed Capsule Corps snow blower was being connected to a very large can of the strongest pepper spray at his disposal. When the all-clear signal was given, the Chief watched and waited…and when the setup seemed right, gave the order to spray at will.

* * * * *

Ubuu plowed into 18 when he was forcibly removed from Gohan's arm. The muscular man offered her an apologetic smile, only to wince as the momentum sent them both slamming into Trunks, who was shouting soothing words at everyone involved.

The demi-saiyan managed to get the three of them stopped, but not before they had been pushed back a small distance from the heat of the fight. While busy pushing the two younger men off of her, 18 noticed something that she had been selectively ignoring for the past few minutes.

She was well aware of the police's activities on the ground; after all, she had been trained for situations like this back when she had still been part of the Red Ribbon Army. Or rather-when she was one of the Red Ribbon Army's favored weapons of mass-destruction. The SWAT team didn't worry her-but something in the helicopter hovering perilously close to the fighters did. That wasn't a gun they were preparing…

With a slightly resigned sigh, she focused her eyes onto whatever it was that was in that chopper, looking at it in several different ways that only an android could accomplish on her own. Once she had found the right magnification she immediately latched onto Ubuu and Trunks. "No." She ordered tersely, ducking into the hollow between two buildings. "Don't go out-not until the chopper leaves."

"Why?" Ubuu questioned tersely, stemming the blood flow from a scratch on his arm.

"They have mace," 18 stated calmly, running a hand through her still unruffled hair.

Before she could stop him, Trunks had yanked out of her grip and phased to where the others were fighting. Vegeta and Gohan were a lost cause-but he might be able to save Goten and Pan some pain. "Goten!" He bellowed. "Pan! We've got to get out of here!"

Disregarding the danger that he was putting his body in, he jumped next to his mate and grabbed her forcibly by the arms. "Pan," he bellowed in her ears. "Pan! Quit! He's not worth it! Let's go."

She growled at him and lunged at Vegeta again, still intent on extracting vengeance. "Let me go!"

Trunks grimaced and tightened his grip on her arms, intending to haul her physically away from the battle. Just as he overpowered her, however, a fist connected to his jaw with such force that he didn't feel anything at all-although he knew he had heard bones shatter. Gohan stood above him, eyes blazing. "Keep your hands off my daughter, you purple-haired superhero wannabe," he growled. Apparently he was not yet so far gone that his protective father radar had quit working.

Trunks felt Pan's smooth arm slide away from his fingers as he tumbled backwards.

Pan's fury was turned upon her father now. "DAD!" She roared angrily. "You knocked out my mate!" She drew her fist back, intending to foolishly ram it into whatever part of her father she could reach, but the sight of her lover in pain stopped her. Instead she settled for flicking her now confused father a patented death-glare and went to Trunks.

Vegeta took advantage of Gohan's distraction to land a horrific uppercut. Goten let out a yelp of surprise and tried to pry them apart again.

Pan ignored them and rushed towards Trunks, who had righted himself, one hand hovering over one side of his face. She took it and pulled it away. "Let me see," she ordered, resisting the urge to flinch when she saw what her father had done to her mate's beautiful face. "I'm pretty sure it's broken."

Trunks gave her a painful sarcastic glare.

"Sorry!" She sounded exasperated, then softened when she realized how much pain he was in. "I'm sorry, baby, but I don't think I can kiss it better."

Trunks' eyes softened and he reached out to swipe a strand of that alluring blonde hair back from her face. The cool green eyes could make him forget everything, including the pain radiating from his face, the battle going on in the street, and, unfortunately, the chopper preparing to rain the worst possible thing down upon them all.

Goten, however, managed to look up from where he had both of the other combatants by the hair, jerking Vegeta back just as the man lunged as his brother. "C'mon, you two," he started, half-exasperated, half-amused. "I could use a little…" he trailed off as the chopper moved into position. "Hey…what are they doing over there…"

Her Uncle's shout had jerked Pan out of her reverie, and, acting on instinct alone, grabbed her husband and pressed his face to her chest, turning her back to the chopper while closing her eyes tightly, mimicking the actions of her mother less than an hour before.

The officers manning the souped-up snow blower flipped the switch and smiled in glee as the machine began pumping the pepper spray into the air. This ought to slow those maniacs down.

Unfortunately for all those involved, especially Videl and Vegeta, the mace only did two things to the Saiyans. The first thing it did was rob them of their sight, and the second was that the stinging sensation was just enough to infuriate them even more.

The battle continued with such massive intensity that even Videl was forced to fear for her safety, but thanks to the interventions of Dende and a form of his predecessor, no innocents would lose their lives in the hectic minutes that would follow until the Saiyans could fight no more.

* * * *

Orange Star General Hospital was in a state of barely controlled chaos. They had been flooded with injured from the events by the mall. So far only a handful of people were in critical condition, but they came in such massive numbers that the staff was having a hard time keeping up with them. By this point they'd filled up every bed and gurney in the ER, and were now treating people out in the lobby, in chairs, and even standing in the hallways.

They pretty much thought they had the chaos organized when the paramedics burst in with several gurneys, followed by a very dirty, disheveled, and most importantly, a very irate Videl Satan.

She marched straight up to the reception desk, where a lone nurse was waiting desperately for the water to finish cycling through the coffee pot. All she wanted was a nice cup of tea to settle her nerves…all of the patient's jabber about aliens set on destroying the earth was disturbing her.

The poor nurse's hopes were dashed when a pair of slightly bloody hands slammed down on the desk, snapping her last nerve. Videl removed her ever-present badge from her back pocket and flashed it at her, making the woman give her a deer-caught-in-headlights-look. "Videl Satan. I have five priority prisoners that need to be treated immediately. They need to be kept together, because they are all in my custody, and I make decisions for all of their treatments."

"But," the nurse stuttered, "we're almost full. We don't have five rooms next to each other!"

Videl glared at her, making the woman shrink back into her seat. She wasn't getting paid enough for this. "I suggest you find room. I know you can." She paused, pulling a scrap of paper out of her pocket. "Do Doctor Courage and Doctor Wise still work here?"

"Yes," the nurse replied shakily, "but they're not on shift right now."

Videl picked up the phone and handed it to her. "Call them and say you've just admitted a few Saiyans." She turned her head as a violently swearing man was carried in on a stretcher. "And make sure you send the strongest nurses you have."

The nurse shivered slightly under the woman's glare and grabbed the phone, summoning the closest available nurse from down the hall.

Videl nodded and went back to her little group, which was spilling blood and sweat all over the already dirty hospital floors. Gohan and Goten sat on one stretcher, supporting each other warily. Gohan was absolutely covered in cuts and nursing both of his hands, while Goten sported a black eye and limped when he actually walked. Videl didn't like the way he was swaying slightly-she worried that the demi-saiyan might have actually hit his head a little too hard. Pan and Trunks shared another gurney-Trunks had obviously broken his jaw, and Pan was refusing to leave his side. Aside from a cut along one shoulder, Pan was basically fine. All of them, of course, had agitated eyes thanks to the pepper spray that had been released.

The heroine of Satan city wasn't sure if she wanted to throttle the Police chief or thank him. All the pepper spray had done was work them into an even higher frenzy, but they had quickly fought themselves ought much more quickly due to their rage. The battle had ended when Gohan had finally hammered a broken Vegeta into the street below.

After a quick call to Capsule Corps, Videl had allowed to brave paramedics to go and pry Vegeta out of his hole while she had collected the others to take to the hospital. She hadn't even bothered talking to her mate-she'd merely grabbed the exhausted demi-Saiyan by the hair and hauled him to the ambulance.

Bulma was in no state to work on them; both she and her father were still working on Bra. Krillin had said that there was only one senzu left, and it would be given to Bra once they had removed all the foreign objects from the wounds. He'd promised to come along with a case of the only anasthetic Bulma had ever found to properly work on Saiyans: tranquilizer formulated for Gorillas.

Until he got there, Videl was stuck trying to keep the staff safe from the antics of Vegeta. The stubborn Saiyan had regained consciousness in the ambulance on the way back, and it had taken both 18 and Videl to keep him from sending the paramedics into the next dimension. The man was still furious about the paramedic's "audacity," so 18 was staying with him in the most secluded place Videl could find-the roof. The doctors weren't going near him unless he was completely unconscious.

Three rooms were quickly cleared out on the top floor of the hospital, much to the relief of Videl's temper and the hospital staff's anxieties. She had just collapsed into a chair when Krillin appeared, laden with a small metal box, which he handed to her with mock solemnity. "Your anesthesia, Mrs. Son."

Videl opened the box and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "A Tranquilizer gun?"

Krillin shrugged. "Bulma says she didn't have enough in the gaseous phase to knock them out long enough. One dart is supposed to have enough stuff on it to knock out a Super-Saiyan for four hours."

Videl nodded. "Vegeta gets it first, before somebody gets hurt."

Krillin slid a tranquilizer dart into the chamber of the gun, and Videl wondered absently how Krillin knew how to do that, but decided she didn't want to know right now. He gave her a little smirk and held it out to her. "Do you want to do the honors?"

She returned his smirk with an evil one of her own, totally scaring the security guards nearby. "It would be my pleasure." Taking the pistol, she stalked off towards the roof.

Krillin chuckled to himself and followed. This was something he wanted to see.

* * * * *

While things out in the corridor had settled down, things in the rooms had not. There was an argument going on in one of them, an argument in which only one of the participants could speak. The nurses were trying to prepare Trunks for the doctor, but the man was being less than cooperative.

"Look," the nurse, a sturdy fourty-something snapped, "I don't care if you're the President of Capsule Corps himself, you have to take the bandana off!"

Trunks gave her a very practiced glare.

She lifted an eyebrow. "You're gonna have to do better than that, sonny boy. I keep a baseball bat in the nursing station for the likes of you. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way."

Trunks cast a despairing glance at his wife, who had allowed the nurse to change her into a hospital gown. Still in her transformed state, she stared blankly at the walls, not really seeing anything. She, didn't however, miss his thoughts. "You're the one who got yourself into this mess, Mister Lone Saiyan. You can just deal with the consequences."

Trunks would have sighed, if his face hadn't hurt so much. He'd thoroughly annoyed her with the super-hero routine, but he hadn't had much choice in the matter. By chance, he remembered seeing a pad of paper and a pencil on the table next to his bedside, which he snatched up and began to scrawl words upon.

The nurse came over and read them over his shoulder. "I want to be…you have horrible handwriting you know…treated at the Capsule Corps hospital." A long pause. "Western Capitol is far too many hours away, Mister Lone Saiyan. You'll just have to deal with the treatment you get here." She snorted. "How're you gonna get there?"

I can fly, Trunks scribbled across the pad.

The nurse was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to beat that one down into the floor with his other protests. Luckily for her, Pan, aka the Goldpan Girl, was prepared. "If you leave me here in this hospital, Mister Lone Saiyan," her voice was giving Trunks flashbacks to some of Videl and Chichi's more evil moments, "not even Dende will be able to help you get back into my bed."

Trunks whimpered softly. She didn't really mean that, did she?

The nurse quelled a smile. "You the poor unfortunate soul who's unlucky enough to be his boyfriend?"

"Worse," Pan replied, absently tugging at her still-golden hair as she tried to get comfortable on the pillows. "I'm his wife." She paused for a moment, then smirked, which sent a chill down Trunk's spine. What was it with Son women and evil streaks? "At least for a little while," she continued. "Until my father gets his hands on him. Then I'll probably be a widow."

Trunks paled. Gohan was back…and well, he was probably just as protective of Pan as he had been when he left. Except now he had enough power to pound even Vegeta into the ground. As soon as they were all out of here, he was going to die-Gohan was going to kill him. He and Pan hadn't even been remotely interested in each when they left and well, now they were married. Maybe he ought to just let the nurses find out who he was-being mobbed by the press would be a lot less painful than being pounded by Gohan. At least, though, Gohan could only kill him once-without the dragonballs to wish him back, his fun could only last so long, unless, of course, Gohan chose to draw it out as long as possible

Pan nodded to the general direction of the nurse as Trunks turned whiter than a ghost. "Now would be a good time to do whatever it is you have to do-he's too distracted with his impending doom"

The nurse smirked and grabbed her scalpel, leaning over the almost frantic superhero. Before Trunks could react, the rather bloody remains of his Capsule Corps banner and his grody face-mask, one of his shirt-sleeves in a former life, dropped to the bed's pristine white sheets. Once he realized what had happened, his eyes flew open to land upon the astonished nurse. "When I said you weren't getting out of here even if you were the President of Capsule Corps," she murmured blankly, "I didn't expect to be taken at my word!"

Trunks wished he could moan, curse, swear, or even have tried to withstand the pain of transforming with a broken jaw before she had gotten his disguise off. In less than 24 hours, even hell was going to be more appealing than taking a step outside of this hospital room.

"You're Trunks Briefs," the nurse murmured.

Trunks attempted to smile, but it came out more like a wince, and put a finger to his lips to ask for her silence. Given his luck, there had to be a reporter floating around here somewhere.

Pan giggled to herself, making Trunks send her an aggravated glare. She was enjoying this! Of course, her anonymity was just as thin as his was-the nurse would make the connection soon enough.

But before Trunk's devious mind could think of a way to smooth the situation over, the door swung open, revealing his very tired, very exhausted, and still very irritated mother-in-law. She saw what was going on and an evil smile twisted across her lips. "Even the Great Saiyaman escaped detection longer than you could," she teased. "He lasted a whole month-and-a-half before I found him out."

She turned her gaze to the still stunned nurse. "How badly has he been injured?"

The Nurse shrugged. "I know he has a broken jaw, but he won't let me get close enough to examine him further."

Videl's eyebrows lowered in a familiar way. Trunks was in for it now. She spun around to stare at him. "Why won't you let the nurse look at you?"

Pan sighed, and continued with her job as Voicer-of-Trunks'-Thoughts. "He was afraid she'd discover his real identity."

Videl, instead of teasing Trunks like he thought she was, shook her head and shrugged. "Fair enough." She glanced at the needle in the nurse's hand. "And here I was thinking a might Saiyan was afraid of something as weak as a hospital."

Trunks glared at her. Pan translated. "My not-so-gentlemanly mate would like to remind you that your own husband is afraid of hospitals."

Videl shrugged. "I know. His father instilled a fear of needles in him, and listening to Goku scream like a two-year-old will traumatize anyone." She cocked her head, again glancing at the syringe the nurse had. "I didn't know you'd picked up Goku's phobia of needles, too."

Trunks' reply was a few choice words that made Pan angry. She snarled something at him in Saiyago, and Trunks blushed. He knew he had grown up with the planet's two most foul-mouthed parents, but he had no idea that Pan would use words like that! Those were almost worthy of some of the insults his parents threw around.

Videl, meanwhile, had crossed her arms over her ribcage and was waiting somewhat impatiently. "Care to translate?" She asked her daughter.

"No," Pan replied. "I don't think it's appropriate to say in any company, let alone a hospital."

The woman shrugged. "I can imagine-but I don't want to know right now."

She crossed the room to stand next to Trunk's bed, looking down at him with the steely glint that said he had better not cross her, unless under circumstances of impending planetary doom. And even then, it would be a close call. "Look, Trunks, I'm not going to dance around the issues here. We're all in deep shit."

Both Trunks and Pan snorted.

Videl continued. "Not only have you managed to nearly destroy a city block, but you allowed yourselves to be caught doing so. The city will probably prosecute, and the police want to arrest you. I can only hold them off for so long until my boss comes down to talk to me personally-and then I'll probably be removed from your case."

She rubbed her forehead. "That's ok, because I've already called a lawyer friend of mine, who is coming to help. But right now, you're all beat up. Bra is still in the operating theatre at CC, and her injuries are severe enough that they couldn't be handled here, and Bulma won't leave her side to start up the other tanks."

Pan and Trunks both became worried. How badly had Bra been hurt?

"Gohan and Goten are in the next room being treated, whining like typical Sons about being in the hospital. Yamcha and Krillin are practically treating them themselves because the nurses are too afraid to approach them. Pan can't see, and the doctors still haven't decided what to do with Vegeta yet." She glared at Trunks again. "Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way."

Trunks didn't dare give her a questioning gaze.

"The easy way is you let the nurse examine you, fix you up, and rest so you can start healing and be released sooner. I'm sure that Bulma will have the regen tanks up and running by the time you're released, so it would only be for a little while."

Pan decided to see exactly how evil her mom could be-after all, it was Trunk's fault she was here in this idiotic hospital trying to stay transformed so she couldn't be recognized, unable to see anything more than a few inches away from her eyes. "What's the hard way?"

Videl's thought for a moment, but a shout from Gohan in the next room sent a smirk across her face. "I go and get him. I'm sure he'll be most happy to accommodate when I ask him to help me knock out the man who married his daughter without his knowledge."

Trunks paled rapidly.

Pan grinned. "He says the easy way."

Videl nodded to the nurse, who stepped forward, syringe at ready. "Now I promise this won't hurt a bit," she began, but stopped when Videl put her hand out.

"What is that? Anaesthetic?"

"Yeah. We're gonna knock him out before we fix him up."

Videl shook her head. "That's never going to work." She exited the room and came back a moment later, dropping a dart into a handgun. "Here," she murmured to the nurse. "Let's use this stuff instead."

Trunks didn't even have time to wince before the dart was imbedded in his arms and he was lost in a dream about two Pans-one of whom had angel wings and a halo, while the other had a forked tail-and horns.

Videl smiled at Pan's rather baffled expression and wandered back out into the hallway, where 18 was still stationed in front of the room Vegeta was in, given a large berth by all of the security officers. This was probably due to the fact that 18 had threatened them to within an inch of their lives, but it was probably better for their safety in the long run. She looked amused-or at least that's what Videl thought the slight glint to her eyes was.

She approached the taller woman and handed her the tranquilizer gun. "Trunks is out for a while, so I'm not going to need it."

"Mmm." 18 acknowledged, a smile dancing in her eyes. "They've finally decided how to treat Vegeta."

"Oh?" Videl quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes," 18 continued solemnly. "They've decided to put him in a body cast." She paused for good measure. "The only thing is, they've used up all of the white plaster they have."

Videl had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going. "What color is it?"

A tiny smile broke across the android's stoic face. "Tie-dyed."

Oh yes…somewhere up in the heavens there was a God whom had a very sadistic sense of humor, who was getting a very good laugh out of all of this.

Videl silently vowed to herself that one day she would find out who he/she/it was and tell Vegeta-at least that way she could be the one watching in glee for once while someone else was tortured.

Up in the next-dimension a certain Kai snickered to himself, but decided to leave the situation alone. At least until morning, that is.

* * * * * * *