Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Accidental Redemption ❯ EVERYBODY NEEDS A FRIEND ( Chapter 6 )

Thanks to my beta-readers for doing a great job as always and to all you awesome folks who reviewed the last chapter. Especially to Pandora001 who took the time to review every single one. People like her make me all warm and fuzzy inside, so this here update is dedicated to her ^_^

Happy holidays to everyone!

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ACCIDENTAL REDEMPTION

By Evil Saint

VI.EVERYBODY NEEDS A FRIEND

* Have you ever buried your face in your hands

`Cause no one around you understands

Or has the slightest idea what it is that makes you be

Have you ever felt like there was more

Like someone else was keeping score

And what could make you whole was simply out of reach

Well I know

"I'm holding up just fine, Dad. I have to admit it was a tough first week, but the company's still afloat so I've gotta be doing something right." Bulma gushed into the cordless telephone, toying absently with the dainty pink ribbon at the neckline of her lavender and white flowered sundress. She was sprawled comfortably on the Italian leather sofa in the ground floor den with her head against the armrest and her father's cat pawing playfully at her newly straightened hair as it flowed over the side like a waterfall.

"That's good to hear, Princess. Your mother's having a ball over here. I'm afraid we're going to have to modify the house when we get back to make room for everything she's bought." Dr. Briefs chortled affectionately.

"I can imagine." Bulma giggled with him and cast an eye over the assortment of mementos already decorating the den and living room from all her parents' other trips overseas.

"Now Princess, it's terrific that things are going well at work, but how're you doing at home? That Vegeta boy isn't bothering you, is he? Because if he is…"

"Oh Daddy, I told you already, I can handle Vegeta."

"I know you think so Bulma, but the lad does have a temper and I must say I'm still not happy about you living alone with him. I just don't see why we can't get him a suite in a nice hotel in the city. He can use the pod while you're at work and since you insist on doing the maintenance work yourself, he can leave you a note of what needs to be done and you can do it in the evenings when he's away. Honestly Dear, there's no reason why you should…"

"Dad please, I really don't want to argue over this again. Vegeta stays and that's final…" Bulma interjected sternly "… but the first time he tries anything I'll have Goku kick him out. I promise, alright?" She assured, disregarding the little voice in her head reminding her that Vegeta had already bullied her on the very day her parents left.

Dr. Briefs sighed in surrender, but he was still far from pleased with the status quo.

"Very well, but please promise me you'll be careful around him…" Bulma was about to tell her dad not to worry, but he continued before she could speak "… and don't tell me not to worry about you. It's a father's privilege to be concerned about the wellbeing of his only daughter. You'll understand one day when you've got kids of your own."

"Better not let Mom hear you say that. You know how she gets at the smallest mention of grandchildren." Bulma jested, trying to lighten the mood. Her mother was very young when she married Dr. Teddy Briefs ~ a man nearly twenty years her senior ~ but with love, respect and a shared eccentricity that made it impossible to take anything too seriously, their marriage had stood the test of time. To Vicky Briefs, settling down and raising a family was the holy grail of achievements for a woman and ever since Bulma and Yamcha started dating she'd been dropping none-too-subtle hints about what an "adorable" couple they were and how "handsome" their children would be.

"I know, but she means well. Having you was the most joyous event of her life and she just wants you to be happy."

"I know Dad. Speaking of Mom, shouldn't you get going? By now she's probably got half the country up in arms looking for you." In Japan it was around nine in the morning, but for Bulma's parents it was the middle of the night. A lot of people would find it peculiar that the head of a multi-billion zenni company would take the time to personally inspect new laboratories, making sure that everything was up to scratch, but that was just another thing that set Capsule Corp. apart from its competitors. Her father had been working late in one of the recently finished facilities and decided to check up on his daughter before going home to his wife.

"Of course, you're right Bulma. Pet Scratch for me and don't forget, if you need me I'm just a phone call away. Anytime. Day or night." Bulma smiled warmly at her father's words. Dr. Briefs had high hopes for his sole heir and he was always driving Bulma to better herself at everything she did. He could be a harsh taskmaster, but he was also a devoted parent and he never failed to give her his support.

"Thanks Daddy. I love you guys and tell Mom I'll give her a call tonight."

"Will do Dearest. Have a good time with your friends and remember what I said about Vegeta. Your mother and I love you with all our hearts and we don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I will. Bye Daddy."

"Goodbye Princess."

Bulma ended the call with a fond smile gracing her features. It was good to hear from her father, but now she seriously had to get her butt off the couch and start preparing for the party she was hosting in a few hours. She'd invited all the members of the Special Forces and their partners to take a break from training and pretend for a while that they weren't living in the shadow of imminent doom. Tien and Chao Tsu had taken a rain check in favour of intense meditation however, and she'd be surprised to see Piccolo's green, pointy-eared face. That left the Sons and Nurami, Yamcha, Krillin, Master Roshi and last and definitely least, Krillin's empty-headed nympho of girlfriend, Marron.

Krillin was one of the sweetest people Bulma knew, but he was short and bald and that didn't exactly do wonders for his popularity with the ladies. Resultantly he had low self-esteem and equally low standards when it came to the women he dated. Bulma was horrified when Krillin introduced her to the blue-haired hussy, beaming with pride as he announced that she was his new girlfriend.

That was a year ago and the skank had dumped him no less than three times since, only to come slithering back when she needed someone to sponge on. Poor Krillin took her in every time, hoping in vain that she would change. It pained Bulma to see one of her closest friends being treated like a doormat, but the monk could be extremely pigheaded and he refused to accept that Marron was only stringing him along until something bigger and better came her way. In his mind, she was a "misunderstood diamond in the rough" and he desperately believed that he would be the guy to make her shine.

Though Krillin was a little naïve, he wasn't stupid and Bulma knew that sooner or later he would wise up to Marron's true colours, but until that day came, she had no choice but to accommodate the bitch.

She hopped off the sofa, stretching with a jaw cracking yawn and bent down to flatten Scratch's ears against his head with a few purr-earning strokes before setting about her tasks. First she had to program the servo-bots to start cooking up a storm. She knew from years of experience with Goku that one Saiyan could shovel down the same amount of food in a single sitting as a human ate in a week and today she had to cater for four of them, plus six Earthlings. She'd decapsulated all the spare house bots to make sure that she wouldn't be shorthanded and they were lined up in the kitchen, awaiting her instructions. A large electronic panel on the wall separating the kitchen from the living room formed the central controls for all the house drones and she walked over to it, beginning to feed the needed data into the servo-bots. She hummed a little tune while listening detachedly to the soft beeps and chirps emanating from the robots as they were activated one by one, scurrying off to complete their given assignments.

Bulma's head snapped up worriedly when the sound of thunder split the air. A rainstorm was the last thing she needed today. She listened intently, inspecting the horizon through the circular window to her right for any sign of an ominous cloud, but the skies were clear and she realised with relief that it was only Vegeta retiring another battle drone to the scrapheap. The Saiyan had been training rigorously since yesterday and the sporadic explosion was the only hint that he was still alive. The state of the kitchen when she came down for breakfast indicated that he'd gotten something to eat during the night though, and despite the mess, Bulma was glad to know that he had. It seemed that all her persistent hounding since his accident was finally getting through to him.

He operated on stamina derived purely from mulish obsession and sometimes he lost track of his health in his quest for the "Legendary Power." He strove for excellence and second best would never be good enough. He would succeed; or die trying. He had proven as much when the gravity pod overloaded under the strain of his ambition ~ perfectionism being at once his pillar of strength and feet of clay. Never before had she known anyone, other than herself, to pursue a goal ~ questionable as it may be ~ with such fierce dedication and that was why she understood that he would quite literally kill himself to achieve his objective if left unsupervised.

Needless to say, Vegeta was less than taken with her sudden concern for his wellbeing and her interference had sparked many a heated verbal showdown between the two of them over the course of the past eight weeks ~ which she found strangely enjoyable. Vegeta had a razor-sharp tongue, but he also had a wicked sense of humour and she often had to stifle a laugh so as not to lose face in front of him when they argued. She gave as good as she got, to be sure, yet he never shied away from her fire like all the others did when they ignited her temper. In fact, he was the first person that ever came close to matching her in a battle of wits and she had to admit that she was impressed, as well as a little flattered. He wouldn't have wasted time sparring with her if he didn't consider her a worthy opponent. And that meant, in his own warped way, he respected her, which was more than most humans could say!

Issuing another set of orders to one of her little helpers, Bulma wondered pensively if she'd be able to cajole the Saiyan Prince into having lunch with her and the gang on the veranda later. She knew several people wouldn't be happy about it, but it was her party for the Special Forces and for all practical purposes Vegeta was a member ~ however reluctantly ~ and she wanted him to feel like part of the group. He'd probably laugh in her face anyway, but she had to try. His moods were so hard to read that she couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be royally offended by her appraisal of the previous day and for some masochistic reason, Bulma felt the need to redeem herself.

You'd swear he'd never been checked out by a woman before with the way he reacted, but what did he expect? Just when she'd gotten used to him strutting his stuff in skin-tight stretch fabric he had to up his game with the whole "wet-look and a towel" bit. She was only made of flesh and blood. How frigid would a girl have to be not to respond to an Adonis like him standing practically naked and dripping in the middle of her kitchen?!

A blush crept up her cheeks when she remembered what Nurami had told her about her race's sense of smell… From what Bulma had learned about the Saiyan mating cycle, it wasn't hard to solve the mystery behind Vegeta's periodic disappearances and in all likelihood he still had sex on the brain when he returned. The prince probably got wind of her attraction and thought she wanted to jump his bones, but maybe if he saw her with her boyfriend he'd feel less threatened or whatever the hell it was that got his tail in a knot.

Bulma knew that she should've felt guilty about scoping out the Saiyan just before getting prettied up for her long-time beau, but the self-recrimination just wouldn't come. Yamcha skimmed the menu every chance he got after all; there was no reason she couldn't do the same every once in a while. However, the man made no secret of his vendetta against the Saiyans and he was always badgering her about her decision to open her home to the alien warrior. She assured him that her sole purpose was to keep Vegeta from running amok and that the Briefs were the only people who could provide the roguish warrior with the right distractions to keep him occupied and out of trouble. But Yamcha had never completely bought her explanation and he would blow his top if he ever found out how much Vegeta turned her on. If she invited the prince to lunch and he said something incriminating to Yamcha, Bulma would have the devil to pay.

So why was she still more resolute to have Vegeta present at one lousy meal, than daunted by Yamcha's potential ire?

The question unsettled the woman and finding an answer required too much introspection for the current time and place. With a deep cleansing breath and a shake of her head Bulma left it hanging and hurriedly finished the bots' programming, before fleeing to the pool deck ~ where the gravity pod was out of sight and its occupant out of mind ~ to decorate the area in the traditional Japanese style for the for the coming celebration.

~*~*~*~

Three hours later the decorations were up, the cooking was done and the tables were set. Bulma was in the living room, encapsulating the last of the excess servo-bots when a loud hammering on the front door alerted her to the arrival of her first guests. She shifted the capsules aside and immediately streaked to the foyer, grinning broadly as she opened the door.

"Goku!" She crowed as the wood swung away, caught up in the excitement of seeing her oldest friend for the first time in months.

"Hi Bulma!" Goku cried, pulling her into a throttling bear hug. Bulma squeezed back as hard as she could, giggling giddily before pulling away and looked to the demi-Saiyans whose once friendly poking match had now escalated into a full-fledged brawl.

"Hi you two!"

"Hi ya Bulma."

"'larim." They spoke simultaneously; jumbling the words as they letup for a moment in acknowledgement of Bulma's greeting, only to lunge at each other immediately afterward. Bulma and Goku laughed, but quieted at once when a shrill voice rang up from beside Goku, making them all wince at the unexpected assault on their eardrums.

"Stop it, both of you! And Gohan, put that thing away!" The children halted in mid-spar with Gohan's fist tangled in Nurami's shaggy mane and her arm outstretched in an apparent grab for his thrashing tail ~ or "that thing" that needed to be put away as his mother liked to call it. One blushed and the other scowled as they disentangled themselves.

"Hello Chi Chi." Bulma smiled stiffly as she turned to the last member of the Son party: a petite, dark-haired woman, clothed in an oriental-style dress of rich violet fabric and a matching shawl. Bulma had never really liked the brash former martial artist, but Chi Chi was Goku's wife and Gohan's mother and it was important to their friendship that she made an effort to get along with her.

"Hello Bulma." Chi Chi replied curtly with an insincere bow. Bulma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and addressed the group.

"Geez it's good to see you guys again! Please, come in." She said hospitably, and with a grand gesture invited them into the house. Once indoors, Bulma led the small entourage to the living room and told them to get comfortable. She was going to fetch refreshments when Goku called her back.

"Oh yeah, before I forget, here are those senzu beans you asked for." He dug around in the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small brown pouch and handed it to Bulma.

"… I'm sorry it took so long, but they're kinda hard to come by."

"That's fine Goku. I just wanna have a few on standby in case Vegeta blows up the GT-pod again."

"That's smart Bulma. I'm just glad he came out of it OK."

Chi Chi snorted distastefully and Bulma had to stop herself from cursing at the woman.

"Be right back." She said and left the room to stash the beans in the upstairs medicine locker, before getting drinks from the kitchen. It would be wonderful to see all her friends together again, but between Chi Chi and Krillin's perverted old hermit of a sensei it was going to be a long day. She could only hope that the revival of the K-meister's love life would be tolerable for a change.

"Ha, fat chance." Bulma resigned as she gathered up a tray with glasses and a pitcher of ice tea and returned to her friends to catch up on the latest news while the kids went outside to spar.

Yamcha showed up twenty minutes after Goku and co, followed shortly by the Kame Island crew. Marron was already dressed in her bathing suit ~ a very skimpy leopard-pattern top and thong combo, rounded off by a short golden mesh skirt that didn't serve any purpose other than accentuating her naked ass and instantly rendered her the focal point for male attention. Bulma did her best to ignore the little trollop's blithe fawning over her boyfriend and laboured to keep her jealousy in check when Yamcha actually reciprocated the flirting. She was cheered up though, when Chi Chi justified her presence by smacking the sport star upside the head and sending Marron a glare that had her cowering behind her escort.

After everyone had changed into their swimwear ~ giving Marron some healthy competition from the other two women ~ they headed out onto the veranda where buffet tables were creaking under the truckload of food the house robots had prepared for lunch.

"Wow." Was Goku's awed comment as his gaze roamed over the assortment of dishes, his dark eyes wide and shimmering as though the Eternal Dragon had just granted his lifelong wish. Bulma smiled knowingly and beckoned to the group to sit at the huge wrought iron patio table she'd imported especially for the day's festivities.

"Help yourselves guys. I'm-just-gonna-go-see-how-Vegeta's-doing. Be right back." Bulma talked at a speed that scrambled her words and dashed off before anyone could decipher what she'd said…

~*~*~*~

The combat robots' strategies were proving tiresomely predictable and Vegeta had shut the surviving two down out of sheer aggravation. They were overdue for an upgrade, but after yesterday's events, he was steering clear of Bulma at all costs and had decided to perfect his katas in place of sparring. He'd been exercising in 380 times normal gravity for nineteen full hours with only a couple of bathroom breaks and a quick meal's worth of rest, and he could feel the foul breath of fatigue panting down his neck. Nonetheless, he stubbornly refused to heed his body's pleas for sleep and nourishment, soldiering on with nothing but deviant willpower fuelling his aching muscles, and he was determined not to stop until all weakness had been expunged from his system… his physical constraints… his recent emotional disarray… the eddying thoughts of the woman obscuring his aims and dividing his focus…

Perspiration was streaming down his bare torso and his face was flustered with exertion as he performed a very long and intricate routine for the twelfth time, when the vid-com flashed to life, breaking his concentration.

"Hi there, can I have a word?"

"Speak of the Devil…"

"This had better be good!" He snapped, beating down the impulse to sling an energy blast at the imposing visage on the huge screen.

"Um… can we talk in person please? It won't take long, I promise."

"What the fuck does she want now?" Vegeta thought irritably. Ever since his stupid accident two months ago, the woman had gotten the deranged impression that he needed a pacer and was constantly interrupting his training "to check on him." He hated her infernal mollycoddling. He was the Saiyan Prince for Kami's sake! Not some senseless cub that required constant supervision to keep from hurting himself. He'd put too much faith in the human made generator and overloaded the hunk of junk; he'd learned from his mistake and was being mindful not to repeat it, but if he wanted to kill himself training then it was none of her damned business!

She was an only child however, Daddy's little Princess, and she was used to getting her way. He'd shunned her in the beginning, but the woman could nag more persistently than any spoiled three-year-old if she felt like it and ~ as ripping her vocal cords out wasn't in the cards ~ he found that the fastest way to get rid of her was to do what she wanted.

He padded over to the control console and shut the simulation off, punched in the code to unseal the door and waited. When she didn't enter he became impatient and marched over to the hatch, yanking it open with every intention of giving her an earful, but nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight that greeted him. Bulma was standing there, dressed almost exactly like the courtesans of his father's royal harem. Only her breasts and femininity were concealed with a few scraps of silvery-blue material and a gauzy white sarong was knotted under her bellybutton, parting scandalously at the front as it flowed to her ankles. He realised that her hair was different as well. The blue curls that used to float around her head like puffy clouds had been replaced by sleek, shimmering tresses that cascaded down her back and over her shoulders like finely spun silk, reminding him of gossamer dazzling in the sun's first rays. He'd been certain that her teasing behaviour of the previous afternoon was unintentional ~ an accident born of ignorance ~ but now he wasn't so sure anymore…

Vegeta stood mesmerized as his eyes roamed longingly over her enchanting curves, but he caught himself before she noticed him staring.

"What, Woman?!" He spat rudely, trying to break the spell the little sky nymph had cast on him. She flinched at his caustic timbre and for an instant she looked as though she regretted intruding on his workout.

"Hey Vegeta. Sorry to interrupt, but you've been in here an awfully long time and… well… we're having lunch by the pool and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to join us? It's really a lot of fun." She sounded nervous and kept shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she spoke.

His mood changed bluntly from lust to annoyance. He couldn't believe she was interrupting him for this. Did she actually think he would waste his precious time mingling with her and her idiotic posse when he should be training to kick their asses?

"I'd love to!" He replied enthusiastically, schooling his cruel lips into a warm smile. Bulma blinked in surprise, unsure if she'd heard right.

"Really?" She asked hopefully, pleased that Vegeta wasn't being as big of a jerk as she'd expected.

"No!" He shouted in all seriousness and slammed the door in her face.

He spun on his heel and stalked to the controls, reactivating the gravity simulation with a violence that all but shattered the computer's keys. He stood panting, white-knuckled fists at his sides and steeled himself against the mounting pressure, keen to take his grievance with the woman out on her inventions. The remaining two drones' censors lit up and Vegeta grinned fiendishly as they rose into the air above him, a pair of circling kites honing in on their prey. An animalistic war cry was flung from his throat and his coal black eyes burned red with the battle fury of the Oozaru rippling through his soul, his sore muscles bulging with raw strength as he powered up.

He leapt into the air and attacked, striking at the drones with a volley of energy balls. As expected, the crackling spheres ricocheted off the robots' forcefields, hurtling back at the warrior at breakneck speed. Despite looming exhaustion, Vegeta eluded the blasts with little effort, swerving around the first and ducking under the second, sparks flying as the shielded and reinforced titanium walls absorbed the impact. He deflected the third ball with a mighty swing of his arm, sending it back at the drones and fired another three after it to commence a deadly game of pinball.

In a matter of seconds he had half a dozen zooming projectiles to contend with, but the bots' tactics were painfully foreseeable and he was steadily loosing interest in the battle as he dodged, parried and neutralized the orbs with dreary ease. He had hoped that fighting the drones would distract him enough to purge the image of the woman's indecently clothed body from his mind, but it seemed to be branded onto his retinas. To make matters worse, the tedium of the bots' manoeuvres was drawing attention to their need for a software update, making him think of Bulma and adding to his disconcertion.

With a guttural roar of frustration, he smacked the last of the energy balls into the ship's hull, causing it to disperse and sprang at the nearest robot. He let loose with a flurry of punches and kicks, yelling obscenities as he smashed its censors, pulverized the casing and crushed the circuits and microchips that served as the machine's brain.

The Saiyan screamed in rage when laser fire from the last battle-bot singed his shoulder and whipped around with bloody murder in his crimson gaze. He reacted without pause, seizing the mangled drone and spun around once to gain momentum before throwing it at its counterpart, a number of energy blasts following in quick succession. The doomed machines went ramming into the hull with a deafening clang of metal against metal and then an explosion resounded through the pod as the electric spheres impacted as well, reducing the unshielded drones to smears of smoking alloy on the craft's wall.

Vegeta stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gulped oxygen into his burning lungs. Gradually, his poise came back to him and the blood drained from his irises, returning them to their normal shade of cold, hard onyx. He wiped the corrosive sweat out of his eyes and descended gracefully to the floor, intending to practice his forms again, but when he touched down a sense of futility overcame him and the will to train dissipated like an energy blast against the wall. The warrior ran an agitated hand through his hair and squeezed the stiff muscle of his shoulder a few times before conceding defeat. He moved to the computer to deactivate the gravity simulation and sagged to the floor with his back propped against the control unit's side panel, trying to return some order to his chaotic psyche.

Vegeta was angry with himself. When he started his training on this world, he vowed that he would not become soft like Kakkarot. He swore he would not let these people and their mundane way of life influence him. He had seen too many warriors disgraced by succumbing to the flaws of the very cultures they were sent to conquer and he'd made an oath that he would not let that happen to him, but of late he wasn't keeping that promise; not as he should…

Ever since his damned accident, the woman was on his mind constantly, worming her way under his skin and distorting his focus. He'd known all along that her kind was dangerous. They distracted men from their aspirations and made them compromise their purpose, weakening resolve and softening the brain. Wars had been fought and kingdoms lost on account of a pretty face and that was why he preferred to go to her father when his contraptions needed repair or improvement. But now, with the old bastard delinquently gallivanting about the planet, the prince had no choice but to turn to Bulma to fulfil his technological needs. He'd no longer be able to avoid her as he had in the past and Vegeta frowned at himself when that thought inspired a sensation much closer to eager anticipation than the sour apprehension he should've experienced.

She and her family had shown him tremendous generosity while all he had to repay them with were threats and sarcasm. Yet they continued to feed him, clothe him, house him and spend mountains of money on training devices that he merely wrecked without a word of thanks. He knew that the old doctor had wanted to evict him on several occasions already and that it was purely because of Bulma's persistence that he wasn't given the boot. Her motives for acting as his advocate weren't quite clear to him, though.

All that made sense was that she was obeying her instincts of self-preservation. She was afraid of Koola, and the stronger the Earth's defenders were, the higher her chances of survival would be when the monstrous lizard made his début. But that didn't explain the little things she did, like having his room decorated in his favourite colour after pestering him for weeks to learn it, or waking him from his nightmares when he was hurt and bedridden… or like inviting him to have lunch with her and her stupid friends simply to have him around.

Oftentimes he was needlessly snide with her, testing to see how far he could push her before she'd had it with his bullshit, but no matter what he did she never seemed to tire of trying and that was what confounded the Saiyan to no end.

He needed guidance to sort out his preoccupation with the woman before it got out of control, but the only Earthling he could talk to was the very reason for his calamity. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he rested his head against the cool metal at his back and found himself actually missing Raditz. When he was a boy, the third-class seemed to have an answer for every problem and over the years he'd taken for granted that the man would always be there, ready to give advice when he sought it.

Raditz was barely in his teens when the Saiyans were erased from existence. His and Nappa's lives were saved by the fact that they'd been off on a purging mission in the Yur Sadi system when Planet Vegeta was obliterated and they ended up joining Frieza's army to serve under their prince. Nappa was useful as far as brute strength was concerned, and he made an excellent training dummy, but it was the commoner that ultimately became invaluable as Vegeta's council and right-hand man.

The soldier had an average powerlevel by Saiyan standards, but he was extremely intelligent and he'd taught the prince a great deal about everything from basic spaceship mechanics to "the birds and the bees." Like any other of his caste, Raditz was fanatic in his loyalty to the royal Clan of Vegeta and he took it upon himself to safeguard the last surviving member of the monarchy as far as it was within his limited abilities to do so. He was helpless to defend the child prince against Frieza's abuse, but he could carry the boy to the medical bay when he was too gravely injured to move, often making the difference between life and death under the androgynous reptile's tyranny.

If Vegeta had known how Raditz' mission to Earth would've turned out, he'd have opposed it more fervently on Dargad, or at least have allowed the girl to accompany him ~ instead of adding another entry to the logbook of his failings.

The sentiment was jarring and he pushed it away ruthlessly, binding the icy hands of loneliness that threatened to enclose the lump of flesh known as his heart.

Inactivity was bad for him. Even in childhood he couldn't find a moment's peace without the ghouls and goblins of his psychosis sneaking up on him to infect his thoughts, always dredging up some diabolical recollection from the cesspool that was his subconscious. He'd ride out then like the death-knight he was and deal in hurt and torture, wrenching the turmoil from his own torn spirit to inflict it on others, but now that escape had been boarded shut.

He wasn't up for more training and he was too disgruntled to meditate. So maybe some fresh air and food would do him good.

He pushed off the floor with a discontent sigh and trudged to the door of the tiny living space adjacent to the pod's training room. He went into the cramped bathroom and washed his face, found a towel to dry his sweat-glazed torso and dressed his wounds before changing into the Earth clothes Bulma's mother had acquired for him. He didn't much care for human fashions, but he liked this outfit ~ dark denim jeans, boots and a black shirt with a silver dragon reminiscent of Shenron printed on the back. He specifically housed it in the GT-pod's small dresser to prevent it from getting swallowed up in the huge, unused wardrobe that Blondie had amassed in his room.

After pulling on the pants and boots, he twined his tail around his midsection and let the soft material of the shirt drape over it, making sure that the appendage was as inconspicuous as possible. He'd sensed a few unfamiliar energy signatures and he didn't have the patience to deal with a hail of annoying questions, should he run into someone unacquainted with his origins. Once he was satisfied that he wouldn't have to take needless crap from an ignorant human, he strutted regally to the gravity room's console and opened the hatch, heading out into the merry summer sunshine.

_______________________________________________________________ _______

* `Have you ever' by The Offspring

Next Chapter: Not suitable for Marron fans…

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