Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan Homecoming ❯ The Wonders of Technology ( Chapter 9 )

A/N: Erm…yes. I'm aware that it's been forever since I've posted, but it took me three drafts to get a version of this chapter that I liked, plus the holidays and my family moving and so on and so forth…but hey, it's done now!

As I'm being really lazy today, I'm not going to do individual review responses, but this is just a mass thank-you, welcome to near readers, hope you're still around for the old readers, and so on. Major thanks goes out to the people on my reading list, whose kind suggestions helped me get through this chapter. Extremely major thanks to Maria Cline-because without her, I don't think this chapter ever would have been done.

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Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

A Saiyan Homecoming

By Nadia Rose

Chapter 10: The Wonders of Technology

Night had passed over Satan City, and the sun was rising in a glorious crescendo of oranges, pinks, and reds over the horizon, but Satan City as a whole didn't notice it. In fact, it hadn't even registered that night was over except for the fact that the reporters mobbed around the hospital no longer needed to huddle together for warmth. Satan City was entirely focused on the occupants of three particular rooms on the top floor of its General Hospital, wondering how exactly they were involved in the massive explosions and destructions in the commercial district.

Those particular objects of speculation were almost all asleep thanks to the heroic effort of one Videl Son and her tantalizing tranquilizer gun, but that didn't mean they were neatly tucked away from the eye of the public. Oh no; they had gathered a small public of their own amongst the hospital staff, patients, and the various visitors that had managed to get past the armed police officers in riot-gear who were guarding the hospital's perimeter.

There was one sight that attracted all of this limited public, and it happened to be not a person, but the…clothes…that he was chosen to wear. The crowd could be found gathered around the window to the room of the man marked as John Doe #4, who had since been nicknamed 'the Prince.'

The Prince of what had yet to be determined.

At this particular moment, they were admiring his body cast, for it was, without a doubt, the one and only tie-died body cast in existence. Well, maybe admired isn't the proper word for it.

"He looks like a mummified hippie."

"Well," a male voice murmured, "I wouldn't go that far, 18. I was thinking more like a human-well, Saiyan Easter egg."

A chorus of not-so-polite snickers answered that statement. "Too bad we didn't have a pair of those rabbit-ears that kids wear at Easter and a camera."

"Yamcha!"

"Sorry Puar. But it would be funny."

Goten's wife was not so easily swayed. Having been pulled from a weekend scuba-diving expedition to discover her husband unconscious in a hospital-and being ogled at by every male in the vicinity because of her spandex wetsuit, Marron was feeling more than a little evil. But then again, her mother always told her evil was hereditary, so she didn't need a reason. "I've got some at home."

"Need a lift?"

"Don't even think about it, Yamcha," Marron retorted easily. "I can fly just as well as you."

"Then what's holding you back?"

Marron rolled her eyes and glanced pointedly towards the room next door. "What about the unconscious man in the next room who happens to be my husband?"

"Oh, right."

Puar sighed. "You're too tired, Lord Yamcha. Maybe you should do what Videl-san is and take a nap on one of the couches." She was in human form, which the others hadn't quite gotten used to yet, and tried to tug her friend over towards one of the couches. "You have practice in a few hours, anyway."

Yamcha shrugged her off and went back to staring at Vegeta. "I'll be ok, Puar. It's not like I'm going to actually be doing anything tomorrow but talk." He glanced back at the windows. "Besides, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even by our standards." A grin twisted his careworn face into something women found attractive. "Vegeta being publicly humiliated without knowing it. What could be better than that?"

There was one thing better than that, but because a very minor god had slipped from beneath Shin's eyes and was wreaking havoc, it happened. Everybody needed a break sometime, and Yamcha was about to get his.

Laying in the hospital bed covered in such a grotesque cast, Vegeta, the Prince of Saiyans, woke up. Like any true fighting Saiyan, his first instinct was to get up and face down whatever threat might be coming instead of lying prone in the middle of what smelt like one of the Earthling's primitive hospitals. Of course, thanks to the bodycast and the aftereffects of enough tranquilizer to lay out an entire city for hours, he was unable to do more than lift his head.

Vegeta's first choice of words was a rather inventive string of alien curses, that, for the weak-souled, could not be translated. At least not by anyone currently on Earth. Well, Gohan could have, but he too was under the effects of the tranquilizer, and the effects were not so pleasant for him. Pure Gorilla tranquilizer worked well on full-saiyans, but the effects on the demis were a bit…unpleasant. The only person capable of understanding the words that were coming out of Vegeta's mouth was currently lost in a massive hallucination about being a giant banana, leaving the Saiyan Prince free to curse on.

And curse he did, at such length that his crowd of admirers had ceased their initial reactions of running for cover to pause and wonder at his choice of words, and the length they went on.

"Well," the surgeon who'd orchestrated the whole casting process murmured to the nurse beside him, "I've never had someone be so…vocal before."

The nurse sighed. "You haven't been in the one where The Lone Saiyan and the Goldpan Girl are. She talks for both of them-I think she's telepathic, because she does a lot of arguing with herself."

A second nurse, the same one who had been subjected to Chichi's emotional outburst earlier, nodded. "My two," she was, of course, referring to the Son brothers, "they're…terrified of nurses. I'm not sure why-but their mother has a set of lungs like an elephant."

"You get all sorts of people in through here," the surgeon chided. "These, though have been the most…eccentric."

"I don't think eccentric is a strong enough word, Doctor. Maybe stark raving lunatics would be better…"

A few feet down the plate glass window, another conversation was taking place.

"I wonder what he's saying," Krillin mused.

"We probably don't want to know, Dad," his daughter replied. "It is Vegeta."

Yamcha, after the initial shock had worn off, was having more practical thoughts. "Do you think we ought to wake Videl up? She's the one with the tranquilizer gun."

"Let her sleep," Chichi advised quietly. "There isn't any tranquilizer left. She used the last of it on Gohan when he tried to check on Pan one-too-many times." The dark head swiveled to look at the sleeping woman, who had been covered by her lawyer-friend's jacket on one of the couches. "Never wake a sleeping dragon. Not unless you're prepared for the flames."

Sleeping dragons had nothing on Bulma Briefs. She was marching towards them, parting the crowd as easily as a chainsaw cut through butter. The people in floor, while not immediately recognizing the blue-haired woman in a lab coat and blood-spattered scrubs, moved away from her furious expression before she ever got close. If doom could take a particular face, then Bulma was the poster-child at the moment. Whatever the genius decided to take her anger out on the gods most definitely did not favor.

At the moment, they weren't favoring our favorite tie-dyed Saiyan. At all.

Bulma Briefs ran a hand through her blue hair and stormed past the surgeons, the nurses, the security guards, and even her friends into her husband's exhibition area…er…hospital room, and unleashed hell. "I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"

Every window within a fifteen-yard radius rattled.

"You promised me no more wanton destruction! I don't care if it was just a city and not a planet! I swear you Saiyans have an extra liter of testosterone somewhere! Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

Vegeta, of course, was not given the chance to answer before she continued.

"A city block, Vegeta! In daylight! With witnesses! This is worse than that blasted World Tournament! At least then we had dragonballs!" Bulma paused for breath. "What am I going to do with you? I'm sure someone saw something, and they'll be coming down on us like vultures! All across the lawn!"

She frowned, and her angry expression morphed into something much more frightening. All of the others listened, mentally taking bets on the sentence that was about to be slapped onto the Saiyan Prince for disobeying the don't-destroy-populated-areas rule.

Bulma skipped all of the preliminaries, and went right to the Sacred Three, which, used in combination, was the secret to making any Saiyan behave. Well, that and a large frying pan, but that's another story entirely. "You have to eat my cooking."

Everyone who'd had prior experience with the basic-chemistry-experiment-gone-horribly-wrong that was Bulma's idea of food grimaced. The man would never get better if he had to eat that-even hospital food was better.

"I'm taking the ignition chips out of the GR until further notice."

Nothing new there.

"And no sex."

Well, that was it. Vegeta'd had his favorite things taken from him…and on top of that he'd been sexiled too. What a lovely thing to wake up to. But Bulma wasn't finished yet…oh no…she had one more punishment to bring down on their heads-for it would cover the other Saiyans, too.

"Since the lot of you have decided to not think before you act, I'm going to take away what thinking produces. More specifically, the regeneration tanks. You and the others are going to have to heal the normal way." Bulma crossed her arms and glared down at Vegeta, daring him to challenge her verdict.

Vegeta stared back, unwilling to submit to this last indignation. He was not going to stay imprisoned in that hideous…thing one second more than he had to.

Being in such close proximity to her mate and watching him like a hawk for any sort of reaction, Bulma was easily able to follow the thought, and wondered what he was so upset about. Then she noticed the body cast.

The now-larger audience clustered on the other side of the plate-glass window, waiting for any sort of reaction, were not expecting the one they got. They were expecting laughter…maybe even amusement, but much to her credit, the acclaimed genius merely flicked an eyebrow upwards and stared down at her hapless husband.

"That's quite a body cast you've got there," she commented wryly. "Trying to make a fashion statement?"

Vegeta snarled. "Onna! I had no part in this…outrage! You will take me out of this at once!"

Bulma snorted. "Why? Because you destroyed three quarters of a city block in the commercial district? Had a fight with Gohan in downtown while your daughter was buried in the rubble of a shoe store? From what Barden told me, you nearly killed Videl and the police officers. Does any of that warrant your release?" She folded her arms and fixed him with a look that could have made lava turn to ice.

Her mate, however, was still a prideful man. One who refused to whine in public. He merely narrowed his eyes and stared up at her. "Onna."

His wife, however, was just as proud as he was, and maybe even more stubborn, which was probably the only reason they had stuck together so long anyway. "No Vegeta. You heard what I said. You're stuck like that until I decide otherwise."

The room, and the crowd outside, was quiet enough to hear Gohan whimpering about being eaten by a giant oozaru named Vegeta in the next room. He'd somehow managed to bite through his gag-it must have been a pretty potent hallucination.

She reached into the pocket of her worn lab coat and pulled out a capsule, which could have contained anything from her own personal portable wardrobe to the latest in aerospace technology. A casual flick of her wrist tossed it towards the floor, where one of her more high-tech workbenches popped into existence with a light poof of smoke. Bulma yanked open a drawer, and lifted out some sort of band…and a flat piece of metal. Stomping on the capsule button, the workbench encapsulated itself, leaving Bulma and the objects.

And Vegeta, who suddenly had a very bad feeling about where all of this was heading.

Bulma smiled at him. "Given how you Saiyans tend to react when injured, I've been planning for a situation like this." She fingered the band, which looked suspiciously like one of Goku's old headbands, lovingly. Before he could say anything, she had slipped it on over his head, tapping a metal button on it with one finger.

Vegeta's pride was the only thing that kept him from showing his pure shock when he found he couldn't control his ki.

"Onna," he forced out through gritted teeth.

"You like it?" Bulma questioned, enthusiasm for her latest debilitating gadget shining in her eyes. "It's a ki disruptor. Transmits a combination wave that effectively separates you from your ki control." She took the flat metal disk in her hand and gingerly pressed it to his chest, nodding in satisfaction when it fastened itself to the plaster. "This," she murmured, in full scientist mode now, "is a ki inhibitor-it naturally dampens your ki, so you'll stay in that cast until your body is completely healed."

She smiled at him, and leaned close to drop a motherly kiss on his forehead. "After all, I can't have my Veggie-poo out of action for longer than he has to, can I?"

With a saucy wink and a subtle swing of hip, his mate turned around and left, leaving him alone to rage, unable to do the slightest thing about it.

Oh yes. Human women could be evil at the slightest provocation.

Bulma walked neatly from the room, shutting the door behind her and pulling out a flat plastic box from yet another pocket of her lab coat. "I doubt you'll get any more trouble out of him," she told the nurses. "His bark is worse than his bite." She swiveled to face her friends. "Where's Videl? I found her another box of darts."

Krillin pointed to the wall, where Barden, who had snuck in quietly on Bulma's shadow, had taken up a guarding position at his mother's head. Unlike the rest of them, he had actually managed to get a nap while Bulma worked on her daughter, and wasn't nearly sleeping on his feet. Videl was curled up almost like a cat on one of the hospital couches, blissfully ignorant to the tapping of her lawyer-friend's keyboard as she typed away, frantically brainstorming ideas to help get them out of this mess.

Bulma wandered over to the lawyer, one Erasa Borrador, and extended her hand. "If you need them, the Capsule Corps legal department is on call."

The woman, who was way too perky for this early in the morning, glanced up from her laptop and nodded. "Thanks Mrs. Briefs."

"It's Bulma," she corrected. "Any progress?"

Erasa shook her head.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something." Bulma assured. "If not, we've got friends in higher places who might help us out." That was, of course, if Dende had forgiven her for starting this little fracas in the first place.

Bulma yawned and sank down on the couch adjacent to Videl's, sorely tempted to take a nap herself. She was working on the transfer papers to get them moved from Satan City General to the CC private hospital, but the best estimate she'd been able to procure was at least another twelve hours, and she wasn't going to be able to stay awake that long. Not after just spending the past 6 carefully pulling shards of glass and metal out of her daughter's back.

Seeing that Bulma wasn't really going to be stirring up anything else of interest, the others began to monopolize spare couches and chairs of their own, while the rest of the confused audience wandered off in search of better entertainment than a bunch of sleeping people.

Juuhachi, being the enhanced super-human that she was, did not require sleep like any of the rest of them did. She had her own miniature nuclear device that supplied all of her cybernetics with energy-she only had to 'rest' when her mind became exhausted, and due to intense training, that was every three or four days. Since the others had things to do, she continued guarding the patients in the event that someone, namely Vegeta, would cause trouble.

She never suspected Gohan.

While everyone had been admiring the plaster surgeon's handiwork, Gohan, lost in his own terrifying little hallucination, had managed to break the gag that they'd put in his mouth in one of those eerily convenient coincidences. Now Son Gohan was normally a very quiet man-and fifteen years roaming the multiverse hadn't been able to change that, but the sort of hallucination Gohan was going through had made him quite…loud.

Dreaming that you were a giant banana was odd. Dreaming that the giant banana was being eating by an oozaru Saiyan was even worse, but the fact that the Oozaru was none other than Vegeta topped the cake. Gohan was in a nightmare, and was being very vocal about it.

"No!" He moaned. "Don't-don't peel me!"

"AAAAH!" Oh yes, it was still possible for demi-saiyans who were kai-elects to scream like frightened teenagers.

"Ouch. That hurt."

"No..you're not…you're not gonna eat me are you? Vegeta! Don't! I'm not a banana!"

More absolutely terrified screaming followed, complete with appropriate death noises for a man who thought he was being eaten alive. His brother, however, had had enough. Son Goten, current holder of the "Strongest Under the Heavens" Title, was normally a very patient man. He taught second grade-the man was practically a saint. And he loved his brother, he really did. Gohan had been the closest thing he'd had to a father for years, and that sort of bond was something that never disappeared. But Goten, for all his patience, had had enough.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed he pulled himself to his feet, pointedly ignoring the way the ceiling and the floor were threatening to swap places on him. Goten, perhaps the least injured of them all next to Pan, had suffered a concussion, a very minor thing for a Saiyan, and like any true Saiyan, was determined not to let it slow him down. The fact that he had escaped Videl's dartgun could only work in his favor.

Wondering why there was such a draft up the back of his hospital gown, Goten stumbled into the hall, in search of someone who could help his brother.

Now, a Saiyan with a concussion is no less confused than any person, but the quiet of the hall made Goten's brain even fuzzier. Wobbly turning his head in both directions, he spied a familiar figure, or at least that's what he thought it was through his blurred vision. He blinked. She was blonde, about his wife's shape, lounging in front of a glass window. Must be Marron.

Shuffling over behind her, he seized her by the waist and crushed her to him, planting a kiss in the vicinity of her mouth. "Hey love," he slurred. "What are you doing here? I thought you were out diving." What passed for Goten's frown flicked across his face, but was soon gone. "Are you still wearing your weights? You've gotten heavier."

Juuhachi stared up at her son-in-law from where he held her and blinked.

A few feet away, Goten's real wife, Marron, sat up from the couch she was sharing with Barden and blinked. Her husband had her mother by the waist, and was staring down at her, confused. "Goten!"

The demi-Saiyan's head snapped around-he knew that voice very well, and it wasn't coming from the woman he was holding. Squinting, he tried to see whom he had.

Marron scrambled off the couch, pausing long enough to shove Barden back onto it before he fell off, and hurried over to them. "Goten!" She hissed. "That's my mother! Not me!"

Goten forced his eyes to focus, and much to his surprise he found that the woman he was holding wasn't Marron but his mother-in-law. He released her immediately, and backed up a step or two towards his mate. "Sorry Juuhachi."

Juuhachi raised a blonde eyebrow and stared at them for a moment before stalking back over to the window to keep an eye on Vegeta. Marron, scarlet red, tugged on his arm and led him over to the couch, ignoring her nephew's giggles. "Goten," she hissed, "what are you doing out of bed?"

Goten grimaced and blinked, trying to focus on her face. "Have you heard Gohan?"

"Of course I have," she replied, running her fingers through his hair in a fruitless effort to rearrange the spikes. "I think the whole floor has."

"Try sleeping in there with him," Goten mumbled, settling his head on her shoulder. "Can I stay out here with you? Oniichan yells too loud."

Marron twitched, too grumpy to coddle her husband this time. She did, however, realize there was some truth to his words. Gohan was loud out here in the hallway, even to people without sensitive ears. Goten must really have been hurting. She frowned and glanced around, trying to find a different place for her husband to sleep. Unfortunately, there was only one empty bed. And it was in Vegeta's room.

With a resigned sigh, she rose and yanked on her husband's hands, not protesting when one fastened on her shoulder, and the other around her waist. He must really have had trouble seeing things, judging from the way he dogged her heels. Moving a bit like a demented two-headed monster, she managed to maneuver him into Vegeta's room.

Vegeta, after a quick smirk at Marron's position, realized what she was doing. "Take him somewhere else, girl," he snarled in his typical arrogant fashion. "I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and deserve a room of my own."

Marron shrugged at him. "Sorry your highness. You happen to be unpeeling Gohan in the next room, and Goten can't sleep through it. Go back to cursing your cast, and I won't have to hurt you." Leaving him with that to chew on, she pushed her husband down onto the free bed and yanked the blanket up to his shoulders. "There. Gohan's not so loud here. Why don't you go back to sleep."

Goten, however, was staring blankly at the Prince. "Vegeta? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me you baka," the Prince snarled. "Who did you think I was?"

Goten blinked. "A clown. I think."

Marron cut off Vegeta's reply. "Just go to sleep, Goten. The doctors said you'll see better in the morning." She turned and glared at Vegeta. "Leave him alone. Or I'll sic my kids on you."

Vegeta snorted. "Is that supposed to frighten me, girl?"

Marron raised an eyebrow. "It is when you're completely at their mercy." She cocked her head. "Damia and Monda draw me such nice artwork with Goten's marking pens. I'll be they'd love to have a living canvas." And with that she was gone back out to the hallway, leaving Vegeta alone with Goten, and thoughts of demonic twin girls as his torturers running through his head.

The blonde-haired young woman wandered back to the couch, where Barden was still snickering to himself. She shoved him down to his end of the couch and plopped down on her end. "What's so funny?"

Barden giggled. "Uncle Goten's not wearing any underwear."

Marron rolled her eyes. "Go back to sleep Barden. Before I have to hurt you."

Barden, throughout his innocence, was a smart boy. He knew when not to test his elders-and that tone of Aunt Marron's voice told him it was time for him to leave her alone. Besides…he was still tired anyway. He curled up next to her legs, using her feet as his pillow and tried to go back to sleep like everyone else was. Well, everyone except Miss Erasa anyway, and she didn't count because she hadn't been up all night.

But then he saw something that swept all traces of sleep from his mind. "Look!" He called, prodding Aunt Marron's legs and reaching across the arm to poke at his mother. "Look! It's a green man! Like Dende! But bigger!"

Juuhachi spun around from her position at Vegeta's window to see where Barden was pointing as Marron grumbled and kicked playfully at Barden and Videl sat up with a groan. "Huh?" She mumbled, scrubbing at her eyes. "What are you yelling at Barden?"

Barden pointed again. "Look. A Namek!"

Videl sighed. "It's just Dende, Barden. Go back to sleep."

Barden shook his head. "Dende's not that big, Mom. That guy's bigger than Dad!"

Videl glanced over to where her son was pointing, and, sure enough, a full-sized Namek stood next to the hall window, white cape billowing dramatically in the breeze that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere, green skin dark against the night sky. "Oh," she waved it off. "That's just Piccolo."

She settled down to go back to sleep when she realized what she'd just said. "Piccolo!" She exclaimed, sitting straight up and staring at the man, who, as far as she knew, was supposed to be dead. "What are you doing here?"

The Namek who had once been Earth's Kami shrugged. "I have no idea how I got here." He frowned and glanced towards the room from which Gohan's whimpers were clearly audible. "But I've come for Gohan."

A very convenient lightning bolt streaked through the sky for dramatic effect. Dende enjoyed being the effects man when he had the time.

Videl numbly pointed towards the room her mate was in. "He's in there."

She watched in silence as the Namek paraded silently past her into the room and shut the door. Oh yes, morning had come, and the situation hadn't gotten any better at all.

Clustered outside the hospital, the group of reporters, which now faintly resembled a very small army armed with notepads and microphones waited for the first glimmer of something that might be news.

TBC…

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