Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Garrulous and Gritless ❯ I, 2: Raditz ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: ShiningMoon 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Action / Comedy / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 01.15.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 309 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Action / Comedy / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 01.15.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 309 | Status: Completed
Shit.
This is not how I saw it happening.
Once upon a time I had a weak little good-for-nothing baby brother who was shipped off to a weak little good-for-nothing planet, whose inhabitants seem to use sticks that shoot small pebbles to defend themselves. Hah.
And I forgot about my weak little baby brother for a good long time. Until a few months ago, when we got our asses handed to us on this planet we were supposed to clear. Hell, but we could make so much money on it. Then I remembered my weak little baby brother. And the name of the mudball he was sent to. Obviously, I was doing him a favor; he must have had it all cleared by now, and was just sitting on his ass waiting, if his pod broke, or something.
But, damn, he really fucked up.
Bumped his head, and now he thinks he's a human—disgusting. Well, so be it—if he didn't accept himself as a Saiyan, I guess I'dve taken his whelp and whipped some sense into him. Yeah, I would've done away with Kakarrot. What's the use of a brother if he don't wanna kill?
But his friend got my damn tail, and here I am, on my back in this green leafy stuff, and I can't move. Kakarrot has been trying to say something to me, but even if I gave a shit about what that traitor was talking about, I couldn't hardly hear him over the ringing in my ears. Then all of a sudden his head whips over to the side, and I hear a real distinct yelp of, "Piccolo!" He up and runs off and jumps on some cloud and he's chasing this Piccolo down.
Well, that's one less moron to worry about.
I still can't hardly move—not even sure I can sit up. My arms are stiff so when the wench who'd taken my scouter comes back, I can't even knock her away. "Hey—you," she says, frowning down at me like I'm last week's dinner, "you must have some way to control that pod remotely." Of course I don't answer her, and she sighs like it means something to her and rolls her eyes, says, "Fine, we'll do this the hard way, big boy." For someone I could snap like a twig, she's awfully ballsy. If I could move, I doubt she'd be talking like that.
Then she squats down—damn, I can almost just—bite her arm off, or something—but not quite—and she shoves her hand down my armor, fishing around in it. She pulls out the fucking remote like it was exactly where she thought it'd be, grins, and tucks it away, down her shirt in the same place as I'd had it, and I can see she has some strange armor on underneath her shirt, too. Shit. Maybe she's a fighter. "Thanks," she says, kind of looks me over, closes just one eye like she has a disease except that she's got this disgusting little smile when she does it.
"Of course, it's broken," she seems to start talking to somebody else. "I'm calling Dad to air lift it back to the lab, and I'll try to fix it to work in conjunction with the remote later."
Lab? Oh no. Ain't never been in a lab where things don't get more taken apart than put back together. I open my mouth and some air comes out. "I'm going," it's a lot quieter than I'd like, "with it." She looks my way. "You're not ruining it."
"Oh, sure, so you can just steal it and run off to find your friends when I get it fixed up. Yeah," she rolls her eyes. "I'm a genius, okay? Don't even try to pull something like that over me." She pulls a box out from her shirt and presses some buttons. Soon she's chatting to a voice that comes from it and pacing off to look over at my pod as she speaks.
I can't stop myself from coughing and I manage to roll onto my side, because it hurts a little less. My tail kind of twitches as I cough and I grimace—hurts a lot more than I thought it would.
Then the woman is right back there, behind me, her foot way too close to my tail. Over my shoulder I can see her looking back at her little friends. "Kuririn," she says, and he kind of twitches like he's scared that she'll ask something he don't like, "did you have any ideas for what to do with this guy?" He shakes his head and so does the old man behind him.
"M-m-maybe we should...y'know..." the little guy starts, glancing back at the old man, "y'know...uh...kill 'im...since...er..."
The old man shakes his head and mumbles, "I don't think Goku would be too pleased. I think he can take care of this," the guy glances over me like a piece of trash, like he thinks I'm weaker than my stupid brother, like it was anything but a fluke that let him beat me. "It seems that he and Piccolo were more than a match for him, and besides," his eyepieces flash in the light, "at the very least a common enemy will keep Goku and Piccolo from fighting, for now."
"Should we let Son take him, then?" the woman glances off into the sky, in the direction that Kakarrot went. I try to speak, but my voice is acting up again and I can't. "Or should we...take him to a hospital...?"
Finally I can push air through my throat, "I'm going," I say, "with the pod."
"Y-yeah," says the smallest one, and I can smell the sweat coming off him even with my nose nearly buried in these thin green leaves. "Maybe you should take him, Bulma! You have a hospital at your place, right? And, like, um, maybe you could somehow...build something to restrain him!"
"And cut off his tail," the old man says, and that's it—I heave myself up from the ground so that I'm sitting and it scares the shit out of all of 'em.
"If you think you're cutting my tail off," I growl, "you'd best get ready to die." I hold my hand up and they don't know I don't got it in me to fire anything at 'em.
"Well, bye!" they sputter to the woman as they clamber into the plane. She stuffs her arms over her chest and huffs.
"Thanks," she spits, walking in circles around me. "Creep." Then she turns around because something in her pocket makes a noise. She grabs the box out again and starts talking into it, real businesslike, then presses a few more buttons on it and she's squealing like there's something wrong with her lungs—talking into the box with a big ol' grin. When she puts it back in her pocket, she stops smiling. "Now what the hell should I do with you...?" she taps her foot. "Maybe Son will come by to get you later."
"I'm staying with the pod," I tell her. Shit, until Vegeta and Nappa get here, and call in some new equipment, it's my only hope for escape. After all, she took my scouter, too. When I'm better, I'll steal it back from her—yeah. Yeah, I can stale the scouter, call in for a new pod, give Kakarrot what he deserves, take that kid, and get back to Vegeta and Nappa. Won't be hard—once I recover. I grin a little to myself—once I recover I can give Kakarrot the beating of his fucking life. And, heh, death.
"I guess we've got a hospital..." she looks up at the sky like it'll answer her. "But you'll probably break the nurses' arms unless I can think up a way to strap you down." She looks over me again, kinda scared, for once. "So, you're like...a space pirate, huh?"
I'm about to tell her I'm not here to make conversation, only, shit, I can't move nearly fast enough to do nothing if I gotta and she's back with her foot near my tail again. Besides, if she really is a fighter, she could kill me right now if she don't like me... "Yeah," I say, "what of it?"
"And you have a couple of friends who are, too? The same race as you and Son?"
"What's it mean to you?"
"Just asking," she rolls her eyes. "Yeesh. I finally get to meet an alien," I open my mouth and she frowns, "—I mean, one who knows he's an alien—and he's a total asshole," she meanders off toward the crater, swaying like she knows I'm watchi—aw, dammit, I am. "Guess I'll just give this pod another once-over," she calls. The bitch is taunting me.
"Don't break it," I try to shout, and it sounds awful. I think I broke a couple ribs and it ain't helping my voice one bit.
"It's already broken, dumbshit," comes back from inside the crater. Then she's climbing back up. "Who did that, anyway? Gohan? Or did Son break him out? It looks like it came from the inside..."
"The kid," I growl.
"Wow," she glances back at it. "I figured he had to have some of Son's," she pauses, "well, whatever it is that Son has." I think she remembers what I did to that turncoat because when she looks back at me her eyes are like fire when she walks up to me. "You're lucky they let you live," she nudges me with her foot. Yeah, she's gotta be a fighter. Why else would she have the guts to so much as touch me? I try to ask her but it comes out mangled. "Something wrong?" she asks. Stupid human.
"Healing tank," I mutter.
"What?" she frowns.
"Get me into a healing tank." My head is killing me and I sure as hell ain't ready to die.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she rolls her eyes—again—and looks like she's about to say something when an aircraft lowers down right over the crater. "Oh!" she holds her hand up to block the wind, "Perfect!" The woman runs down the side of the crater to meet someone at the bottom as a platform lowers from the craft. Over the noise of the thing I hear her shouting at someone, and down by my pod I see somebody trying to single-handedly push the pod onto the platform. Hah, like that human thinks he can—oh.
Well. He's still gotta be pretty weak. Anybody can move a pod.
The platform raises the pod back up into the craft. Shit, they're going to take it away and I can't even haul my ass over there before—the woman marches back and glances me up and down. "Dammit," she says, "I don't know." She stomps way too close to my tail and crosses her arms, glancing back and forth between me and the hovering craft. Finally, her eyes bore into mine and she ain't flinching one bit. Definitely a fighter. "I swear to god, if you break one single thing in my house or my lab or the hospital, or wherever the hell I put you, I am calling Son—no, I'm gonna go get Piccolo and have him yank your tail out and kick you to kingdom come!" Her spit nearly flies into my face. Maybe if she's having someone do that for her she ain't no better than I thought at first—or maybe she's like Freeza and just has people do shit for her instead of dirtying her own little hands. Don't think I wanna find out in my present state. "Got it, buddy?"
"Name's Raditz," I grunt.
She seems to take that as a yes. "Can you stand?" Offers her hand out—the nerve! Like I'm gonna take her help. I brace my arms against the ground and...aw, dammit.
Converting /tmp/phpaFzQpw to /dev/stdout
This is not how I saw it happening.
Once upon a time I had a weak little good-for-nothing baby brother who was shipped off to a weak little good-for-nothing planet, whose inhabitants seem to use sticks that shoot small pebbles to defend themselves. Hah.
And I forgot about my weak little baby brother for a good long time. Until a few months ago, when we got our asses handed to us on this planet we were supposed to clear. Hell, but we could make so much money on it. Then I remembered my weak little baby brother. And the name of the mudball he was sent to. Obviously, I was doing him a favor; he must have had it all cleared by now, and was just sitting on his ass waiting, if his pod broke, or something.
But, damn, he really fucked up.
Bumped his head, and now he thinks he's a human—disgusting. Well, so be it—if he didn't accept himself as a Saiyan, I guess I'dve taken his whelp and whipped some sense into him. Yeah, I would've done away with Kakarrot. What's the use of a brother if he don't wanna kill?
But his friend got my damn tail, and here I am, on my back in this green leafy stuff, and I can't move. Kakarrot has been trying to say something to me, but even if I gave a shit about what that traitor was talking about, I couldn't hardly hear him over the ringing in my ears. Then all of a sudden his head whips over to the side, and I hear a real distinct yelp of, "Piccolo!" He up and runs off and jumps on some cloud and he's chasing this Piccolo down.
Well, that's one less moron to worry about.
I still can't hardly move—not even sure I can sit up. My arms are stiff so when the wench who'd taken my scouter comes back, I can't even knock her away. "Hey—you," she says, frowning down at me like I'm last week's dinner, "you must have some way to control that pod remotely." Of course I don't answer her, and she sighs like it means something to her and rolls her eyes, says, "Fine, we'll do this the hard way, big boy." For someone I could snap like a twig, she's awfully ballsy. If I could move, I doubt she'd be talking like that.
Then she squats down—damn, I can almost just—bite her arm off, or something—but not quite—and she shoves her hand down my armor, fishing around in it. She pulls out the fucking remote like it was exactly where she thought it'd be, grins, and tucks it away, down her shirt in the same place as I'd had it, and I can see she has some strange armor on underneath her shirt, too. Shit. Maybe she's a fighter. "Thanks," she says, kind of looks me over, closes just one eye like she has a disease except that she's got this disgusting little smile when she does it.
"Of course, it's broken," she seems to start talking to somebody else. "I'm calling Dad to air lift it back to the lab, and I'll try to fix it to work in conjunction with the remote later."
Lab? Oh no. Ain't never been in a lab where things don't get more taken apart than put back together. I open my mouth and some air comes out. "I'm going," it's a lot quieter than I'd like, "with it." She looks my way. "You're not ruining it."
"Oh, sure, so you can just steal it and run off to find your friends when I get it fixed up. Yeah," she rolls her eyes. "I'm a genius, okay? Don't even try to pull something like that over me." She pulls a box out from her shirt and presses some buttons. Soon she's chatting to a voice that comes from it and pacing off to look over at my pod as she speaks.
I can't stop myself from coughing and I manage to roll onto my side, because it hurts a little less. My tail kind of twitches as I cough and I grimace—hurts a lot more than I thought it would.
Then the woman is right back there, behind me, her foot way too close to my tail. Over my shoulder I can see her looking back at her little friends. "Kuririn," she says, and he kind of twitches like he's scared that she'll ask something he don't like, "did you have any ideas for what to do with this guy?" He shakes his head and so does the old man behind him.
"M-m-maybe we should...y'know..." the little guy starts, glancing back at the old man, "y'know...uh...kill 'im...since...er..."
The old man shakes his head and mumbles, "I don't think Goku would be too pleased. I think he can take care of this," the guy glances over me like a piece of trash, like he thinks I'm weaker than my stupid brother, like it was anything but a fluke that let him beat me. "It seems that he and Piccolo were more than a match for him, and besides," his eyepieces flash in the light, "at the very least a common enemy will keep Goku and Piccolo from fighting, for now."
"Should we let Son take him, then?" the woman glances off into the sky, in the direction that Kakarrot went. I try to speak, but my voice is acting up again and I can't. "Or should we...take him to a hospital...?"
Finally I can push air through my throat, "I'm going," I say, "with the pod."
"Y-yeah," says the smallest one, and I can smell the sweat coming off him even with my nose nearly buried in these thin green leaves. "Maybe you should take him, Bulma! You have a hospital at your place, right? And, like, um, maybe you could somehow...build something to restrain him!"
"And cut off his tail," the old man says, and that's it—I heave myself up from the ground so that I'm sitting and it scares the shit out of all of 'em.
"If you think you're cutting my tail off," I growl, "you'd best get ready to die." I hold my hand up and they don't know I don't got it in me to fire anything at 'em.
"Well, bye!" they sputter to the woman as they clamber into the plane. She stuffs her arms over her chest and huffs.
"Thanks," she spits, walking in circles around me. "Creep." Then she turns around because something in her pocket makes a noise. She grabs the box out again and starts talking into it, real businesslike, then presses a few more buttons on it and she's squealing like there's something wrong with her lungs—talking into the box with a big ol' grin. When she puts it back in her pocket, she stops smiling. "Now what the hell should I do with you...?" she taps her foot. "Maybe Son will come by to get you later."
"I'm staying with the pod," I tell her. Shit, until Vegeta and Nappa get here, and call in some new equipment, it's my only hope for escape. After all, she took my scouter, too. When I'm better, I'll steal it back from her—yeah. Yeah, I can stale the scouter, call in for a new pod, give Kakarrot what he deserves, take that kid, and get back to Vegeta and Nappa. Won't be hard—once I recover. I grin a little to myself—once I recover I can give Kakarrot the beating of his fucking life. And, heh, death.
"I guess we've got a hospital..." she looks up at the sky like it'll answer her. "But you'll probably break the nurses' arms unless I can think up a way to strap you down." She looks over me again, kinda scared, for once. "So, you're like...a space pirate, huh?"
I'm about to tell her I'm not here to make conversation, only, shit, I can't move nearly fast enough to do nothing if I gotta and she's back with her foot near my tail again. Besides, if she really is a fighter, she could kill me right now if she don't like me... "Yeah," I say, "what of it?"
"And you have a couple of friends who are, too? The same race as you and Son?"
"What's it mean to you?"
"Just asking," she rolls her eyes. "Yeesh. I finally get to meet an alien," I open my mouth and she frowns, "—I mean, one who knows he's an alien—and he's a total asshole," she meanders off toward the crater, swaying like she knows I'm watchi—aw, dammit, I am. "Guess I'll just give this pod another once-over," she calls. The bitch is taunting me.
"Don't break it," I try to shout, and it sounds awful. I think I broke a couple ribs and it ain't helping my voice one bit.
"It's already broken, dumbshit," comes back from inside the crater. Then she's climbing back up. "Who did that, anyway? Gohan? Or did Son break him out? It looks like it came from the inside..."
"The kid," I growl.
"Wow," she glances back at it. "I figured he had to have some of Son's," she pauses, "well, whatever it is that Son has." I think she remembers what I did to that turncoat because when she looks back at me her eyes are like fire when she walks up to me. "You're lucky they let you live," she nudges me with her foot. Yeah, she's gotta be a fighter. Why else would she have the guts to so much as touch me? I try to ask her but it comes out mangled. "Something wrong?" she asks. Stupid human.
"Healing tank," I mutter.
"What?" she frowns.
"Get me into a healing tank." My head is killing me and I sure as hell ain't ready to die.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she rolls her eyes—again—and looks like she's about to say something when an aircraft lowers down right over the crater. "Oh!" she holds her hand up to block the wind, "Perfect!" The woman runs down the side of the crater to meet someone at the bottom as a platform lowers from the craft. Over the noise of the thing I hear her shouting at someone, and down by my pod I see somebody trying to single-handedly push the pod onto the platform. Hah, like that human thinks he can—oh.
Well. He's still gotta be pretty weak. Anybody can move a pod.
The platform raises the pod back up into the craft. Shit, they're going to take it away and I can't even haul my ass over there before—the woman marches back and glances me up and down. "Dammit," she says, "I don't know." She stomps way too close to my tail and crosses her arms, glancing back and forth between me and the hovering craft. Finally, her eyes bore into mine and she ain't flinching one bit. Definitely a fighter. "I swear to god, if you break one single thing in my house or my lab or the hospital, or wherever the hell I put you, I am calling Son—no, I'm gonna go get Piccolo and have him yank your tail out and kick you to kingdom come!" Her spit nearly flies into my face. Maybe if she's having someone do that for her she ain't no better than I thought at first—or maybe she's like Freeza and just has people do shit for her instead of dirtying her own little hands. Don't think I wanna find out in my present state. "Got it, buddy?"
"Name's Raditz," I grunt.
She seems to take that as a yes. "Can you stand?" Offers her hand out—the nerve! Like I'm gonna take her help. I brace my arms against the ground and...aw, dammit.
Converting /tmp/phpaFzQpw to /dev/stdout