Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ About-Face ❯ About-Face ( One-Shot )

Well, fuck it. It's always one step forward and two steps back, only I'm lucky I ain't the stupid half, and my two steps back are two steps back to where I oughtta be anyway—not an island in the middle of nowhere. I'm nobody's cook and nobody's maid and that old man oughtta be more afraid when I pull out my gun.

 

Only a couple people out there oughtn't be afraid a' me, and I'm on a journey to find one of 'em. Not one of them brats who got me into all this to start with, though maybe I oughtta thank 'em. I never intended on understanding evil-turned-good myself, but maybe knowing how it goes he'd forgive me for that awful goody-two-shoes, owing to that he's become a little bit of one himself.

 

She, she don't appreciate him. Don't even notice him, maybe, I dunno. But a guy like him, I could hang around. Don't imagine he'd give a damn when I come home with a bag over my shoulder and firing back behind me. Don't imagine I'd give a damn no matter who he lines up with in th' end.

 

Big arms to wrap around me an' more intense a look than anybody else could give, those eyes. So I'm on my way to 'im. Gonna find 'im and he'll take me, sure as I'm goin' to hell he will. Strong guy like him needs a strong ga—ah—ah—

 

-

 

Goodness, I'm so sorry. Where was I? Where am I? Every time I wake back up I'm somewhere new and somewhere strange. I try to get back home. I don't think she understands, that mean girl. She was always taking me somewhere strange. Sometimes I'd wake up with men firing guns at me! I guess I've learned a tiny bit about getting where I need to be, even if I'm a little thrown off. But that doesn't mean I like it—like that I've never really been able to have a home, because those awful mean crimes she—I—I don't know—we aren't the same person, are we? Oh, that would be awful!—those crimes she commits always mean she's running, from what I've gathered, and that always means that I'm running. I don't want to be shot at either; I have to run.

 

We haven't been shot at so much lately, I guess, and that's good. But she's determined to get somewhere, and I think I know where. Sometimes I can kind of see what she's thinking. She's thinking of that scary, handsome man. But I don't think she understands. Always running...and then we were taken to that lovely little island. It was the closest thing to a home I think I've ever had since whenever she started coming out—was I always like this?

 

And I'm trying to get back. I really...really want to go home. She's so determined, though, and plows ahead faster than I can walk back, or run back, or drive back. I wish I wasn't allergic to dandelions, I wish I never ate anything with pepper, I wish I—ah—ah—

 

-

 

Ain't tough to track down somebody who's got money, but so far as I know this guy ain't got none. It's tougher, and it takes me longer. But, shit, it takes me even longer than it oughtta.

 

It's worth the holdup an' it's worth the twenty-odd holdups I've pulled so far for money for the road, for driving and more bullets, and I'm the robber here, not him. I'll find him, soon's—fuck, I've gotta—ah—ah—