Episode 10 - Work, Work, and Space Bullies!

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Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, its characters, story line, or any likeness of the characters. My name is not Akira Toriyama. If I had enough money to be Akira Toriyama, I'd just buy the Internet. However, this story line has been created by me to be used by me and to be written by me. You know that drill. Also, I do not own Mountain Dew, though I really wish I did. I am not endorsing any brand names I use here in any way either, along with the topics of gangs, fighting, and the like. If you look carefully, you'll notice that I am strongly against those things and try to make that clear to you, the reader.

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A/N: Because it seems that many more people like this story than any other one of mine, I guess I'll be updating it more too. In case you haven't noticed, my scanner was completely fried during the last thunderstorm, along with almost every other piece of hardware and software on my computer. Power surge protectors help when the shock comes in through the power line, but they do little good when it comes through your Internet connection... Thankfully, I backed up all my files before going to Colorado, which means that I can now continue to bring you the quality entertainment you've all been waiting for, just not any fan art for a while. A word of warning: I don't know what my schedule is going to be like for the rest of October, although my parents have "subtly" hinted that things are going to get much more hectic than they have already been so far. I'm preparing to be shipped off to the hospital in with wide assortment of not-quite-fatal injuries, so if I suddenly disappear for a while, you'll have a good idea why.

Broken bodies, broken dreams.
All is lost, or so it seems..."Beware the fury of a patient man." - John Dryden

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Being a "newbie", Trunks was automatically assigned to cleaning duty, which conveniently enough was Tussney's job also.

Cleaning duty was long and tiring work. The tools that Trunks and Tussney were given to work with were covered in rust and grime from years of usage. Tussney sought a form of relief from the task in talking to Trunks, though Trunks found keeping the conversation away from himself quite a chore. After a long several hours of scrubbing walls and Trunks avoiding any type of in-depth conversation, Tussney ran out of small talk, which was a relief to his lavender locked companion.

"It's a good thing you got this job, Kahler." Tussney began while scrubbing a stubborn spot of who-knows-what on the rust-spotted wall. "I was getting tired of having no one to talk to all day long."

"Yeah, good thing." Trunks repeated, his concentration divided between those words and a lump of greasy green goo stuck to the floor.

An awkward silence stretched ominously between them.

"So, heard any good gossip?" Tussney asked, attempting to fill the void.

"Tussney, you've been asking me that same question every five minutes for the past hour." Trunks informed the taller man, smirking in amusement.

"Oh yeah..." Tussney replied laughing, self-conscious, his cheeks now glowing ruby red.

Trunks genuinely smiled as he continued his monotonous labor, spraying the olive tinted glob again with solvent, then scrubbing it to no effect. "Hey, Tuss. Can you get this?" He asked. "The solvent doesn't seem to be working."

Tussney leaned his head in the newbie's direction and chuckled when he saw what the boy was struggling with. "Oh, that spot? That's been there for ages. I don't know what it is, and I'm not all that eager to find out." He informed the shorter man. "Don't waste your time with it."

Trunks nodded and slid his operation over.

For the next few minutes, the constant squeaks and scratches of sponges and steel wool on the walls and floor were the only sounds to comfort either man's ears in the long, pewter gray corridors. That is, until a harsh blaring horn rang out over the P A system. Immediately, a low rumble echoed down the lengthy intersecting hallways. Tussney quickly stood up and motioned for Trunks to do the same. Unsure of what was going on, Trunks obliged, only to see what the matter was. From the south of the hallway came the sound of a stampede of hundreds of mismatched aliens all of them heading straight for Tussney and Trunks. Trunks ducked quickly into the alcove preceding one of the many oval doors lining the hallway; just in time to avoid being trampled. Tussney took a similar course of action on his side of the walkway, though with a fluid grace that comes only from prior knowledge.

The crowd passed quickly, leaving only several knee-high aliens scampering along behind. Trunks avoided stepping on one of them as he exited his sanctuary. He inquired of Tussney what the heck was going on.

"It's dinner time." Tussney replied nonchalantly, gathering up his bucket and tools, which he had taken with him into the safety of the alcove.

Trunks looked a the clutter of his tools and the contents of his bucket, which were strewn along the hallway. Some of them were horribly disfigured or completely flattened. He let out a disappointed sigh.

Tussney laughed and tilted his head in the direction of the ruined tools. "C'mon, I'll help you out this time. Next time, move faster."

Trunks nodded and smiled gratefully, then joined Tussney in cleaning up the mess.

Minutes later, the two men entered the crowded mess hall. Leading Trunks over to the cafeteria bar (which Trunks decided resembled a buffet of multi-colored manure), Tussney grabbed a plate and shoved one into the shorter man's gut.

The meal options were quite skimpy: a salad of various flavorless greens and other odd colors, some strange bubbling juice that the pair decided to leave where it lay, some roasted meat seasoned with what smelled like stale gym socks, and, thankfully, a tank of water.

Sliding out the end of the line, Tussney made his way swiftly and carefully to the back of the room, dodging flying food, stretched out feet, and slippery spots as he went. Oblivious to the situation at hand, Trunks followed along in his usual mild humor. At last, Tussney set his tray down at the messiest, wobbliest, most broken down, and what must have been the oldest table in the lunchroom. He sunk low into the creaky seat in a vain attempt to escape the jeering glares of his shipmates, who didn't even bother to hide the fact that their nasty comments were about him. As Trunks made way to set his own plate down, Tussney attempted to save the newbie from a fate similar to his.

"Go sit with some other group now, newbie. No one who expects to pass time here without being beaten to within an inch of his life sits with a Saiyan."

Trunks merely shrugged and pulled up a chair. "Their loss. If they don't take to you, I doubt they'd react any better toward me," the shorter boy responded without much thought, then plopped down roughly and began to eat, using the minimal manners he learned while living with his mother on Earth.

Tussney cocked an eyebrow. "Why's that, Kahler?" he asked as Trunks's previous statement refused to cohere with Tussney's however limited thought processes.

Realizing what he had just unknowingly dug himself into, Trunks's eyes and mouth subconsciously went slack in shock, allowing Tussney a full view of the whites of his eyes and the strange food the shorter man was currently chewing on. "…Uh… never mind." Trunks stammered.

Tussney shrugged it off. The newbie was confusing, yes, but then again just about everything seemed to confuse the teenage Saiyan pureblood. Instead of pressing for clarification, Tussney decided to poke at the squirming piece of meat on his plate, trying to conclude if it was still alive or not.

Trunks, meanwhile, had shoved a large chunk in his mouth and attempted to chew it. The rubbery slab produced an irritating, eerie "squeek, squeek" at every chomp, causing the young man's eyes to tear with the pain the noise inflicted upon his ears.

Tussney smirked at the scene; meanwhile, he cut his meat into chunks tiny enough to swallow without chewing, and then downed them one by one.

As they went about their meal, attempting with all their will to ignore the rude jeers directed at them, Tussney's mind began to wander back to that morning.

That picture, what was it again? Some sort of family get together, it was. Something about it struck Tussney as odd, something...

Tussney awoke from his daze as Trunks waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, Tussney, you alright there? You spaced out on me."

"Huh? What?" Tussney looked down to discover his elbow in the gravy on his plate, which was still nearly full. He glanced over to discover that Trunks was already finished with his meal.

"Are you planning on finishing?" Trunks asked, a sarcastic smirk playing across his lips.

"...Oh... Yeah, I am." With that, Tussney resumed devouring his meal.

Trunks just shrugged and leaned back into the creaky, unstable chair. Shoveling food at a rate that only Saiyans can achieve, Tussney finished in no time. That is, he finished just in time for what followed. Trunks was gently rocking back and forth on the back legs of the rusty chair with his eyes closed, humming a familiar tune to himself as several ominous shadows crept across his face, causing him to open an eye carefully.

Normally, the smirking faces he viewed upside down wouldn't have provoked a reaction from him other than to close his eye and continue humming, but the creaky chair he sat in chose that moment to shudder and snap into pieces, sprawling its former occupant onto the dingy chrome floor.

Looking up just as he finished his meal, Tussney was well-timed to catch the malicious laughter that followed emanating from the deep, raspy throats of the bullies standing over Trunks. The taller boy made to rise from his seat, but was shoved roughly back into it by another being behind him.

The tallest of the little clique tilted his head sarcastically and gestured around in a sweeping motion with one, deep blue, lumpy, and scaly arm. "Look here, a purple baby and a monkey boy having a little heart-to-heart. How sweet." This drew malicious laughter from the remnant of the group.

The hair on the backs of Trunks's and Tussney's necks bristled along with the fur of the taller teen's tail, but whether it was due to disciplined self-control or masked pride and fear, the result was the same. Tussney momentarily peered over the crest of the table to shoot Trunks a "just sit there and take it" look.

"Bet he's a weakling, useless newbie!" another alien jeered toward Trunks, drawing more laughter.

"What a scrawny little shrimp!" another guffawed.

"...Shrimp...?" Trunks's thoughts echoed what had been said. Subconsciously, the lavender-graced teen's ki began to rise. The group of cowardly bullies apparently wasn't skilled in the precise art of ki sense, but Tussney was, and a sharp jolt shot through his mind as Trunks's ki sharply brushed against his own. Trunks had just blasted near to the taller teen's current power maximum, and apparently without even working up a sweat.

A confused look slowly dancing across his face, Tussney began to subconsciously question what they all had gotten themselves into. If that was what happened when the young man's temper flared, what would happen when he truly tried to fight?

Completely oblivious to Trunks's agitation, the men continued to poke fun of him, having evidently found their new favorite target for such actions. Time after time, Trunks was forced to fiercely curb the instinct to fight, the duty to avenge his wounded honor, something that had been burned into his essence while staying with his father in the Room of Spirit and Time in the alternate timeline.

While the alien men were laughing their asses off at their latest not-so-witty comment, Tussney quickly got up, grabbed Trunks by the wrist, and quickly led them both out of the room, pausing only briefly to drop off both of their trays. Once out, Trunks slumped against the wall and sighed his anger away.

He muttered only one word, an airy, "Thanks."

"It's 8:30 PM ship time. We have to clean up after the meal anyway, so let's go sit in the kitchen for a while." Tussney informed the shorter man emotionlessly.

Trunks nodded and followed his friend through a side door into the kitchen, finally resting upon a pair of chairs set out haphazardly near a storage room to the side. The kitchen walls resembled braided snakes as steam-spewing tubes covered them, branching off and out of sight at random intervals. The whole place smelled strongly of alien body odor and exotic spice while the walls reminded him of butter after someone had spilt dark coffee all over it and allowed the result to dry.

The two young men were still quite hungry, but as Tussney quickly pointed out, they would both receive severe punishment by the officers (aka, being beaten to a bloody pulp) if they took any extra food. Trunks had to nearly slap himself from commenting, "I'd like to see them try." It was only Tussney's interruption that saved him from shooting himself in the foot for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.

"Shoot," Tussney continued, suddenly off topic, "I forgot, today's tabby cleaning too!"

"...Tabby?" Trunks asked.

"You know, bathrooms. It has to be done once per week. I forgot all about it! Shit, that'll cost me at least three meals and a 'sparring' session with Riigo..." Tussney groaned.

Trunks sighed. "And I've got years of supplies on my ship too. I really am going to have to get my hands on those parts to fix it."

Tussney laughed, a bitter and hollow sound that sent blaring alarms through Trunks's mind. "And what, escape? Don't even try; the Silverarms are everywhere. Escaping just doesn't work."

Trunks cocked an eyebrow; he expected any reaction but this. "Of course, escape. You didn't expect me to stay here forever, did you?" Trunks asked rhetorically, as if it was obvious.

"Stupid newbie." Tussney labeled him mentally. "It's impossible, it just can't be done. Once you're in this gang, there's only one way out: death."

Trunks rolled his eyes to hide his confusion. He'd come under the impression that nothing was impossible, at least not for a Super Saiyan, but Tussney wasn't to know that. "Whatever. Still, it wouldn't hurt just to get the parts, would it?"

"...No..." Tussney admitted. "Unless you get caught, then it'll hurt like hell."

Trunks smiled, amused at his comrade's mild humor.

The taller man sighed in defeat. "If you can move quickly, it can be done. It won't be all that difficult to set you up in a position to get your parts, but the task itself might be too much for you."

Trunks shrugged off Tussney's doubt and met it with an uncertainty of his own. "I don't get it; how can we 'set this up'?"

Tussney smirked as if it was obvious. "You forget who you're talking to. Just because I have a lot of enemies on this ship doesn't mean that I don't have some that owe me favors. I could get you in as soon as tomorrow."

Trunks grinned to himself. Truly, Tussney was a good friend to have made.

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To be continued...

**Dragon ball ending theme begins to play**

Mirai Trunks: Alright, so this episode wasn't exactly as exciting as I expected, but the good news is that we get to see some action next time!

**Clips of Trunks and Tussney briefly fighting a few aliens that are horribly outmatched**

Mirai Trunks: ...Well, maybe not much, but it's better than nothing, right? Ok... What else happens?

**Short clip of a shadowy reptilian figure**

Mirai Trunks: Woah! Who's that? Well, I guess we'll find out. Tune in next time, same time, same place! DBZ: HYHB: Episode 11, Space Pirate Raid! It's undoubtedly exciting!

Tussey: Hey! How come I never get to do the wrap up!?

Mirai Trunks: I don't know. You want to?

Tussney: YES!

Mirai Trunks: Alright, then go ahead! Next time is all your's!

Tussney: YAY!!! **Dances around in circles**

Mirai Trunks: ...Why me...?

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STORY BY:
Silent Willow

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ACTORS:
Trunks Briefs: Trunks Briefs
Tussney: 17-year-old Radditz
Lasiehr: Morten
Riigo: Fat Bastard and a lot of makeup
Tobaga: ROSELYNE MARROT **Cheers**
Various Aliens: Random people off the street

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
The letter W (For Gundam W! LOVE THAT SERIES! :D)
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Mountain Dew (Without which, I wouldn't be able to survive.)
Kool-Aid Jammers
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MediaMiner.org Forums (**Sniffle** I love you all... Thank you SO MUCH for all you've done! Without you all, I wouldn't be continuing this story!)

And finally, readers like you!