Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Garrulous and Gritless ❯ I, 5: Raditz ( Chapter 5 )
[ 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: 2.3K | Visits: 288 | 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: 2.3K | Visits: 288 | Status: Completed
NOTE: The chapters all start with an I because this is the first part of the story. I think I'm going to number out the "arcs" to break things up a bit.
Hope this chapter is okay. I always feel like I'm leaving something out that I should have thought to include, especially because things are moving a bit differently than I thought they would. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
...
"It was a rhetorical question."
A rhetorical question, she says. Like she's too good for real questions.
This is almost the worst day of my life. Kakarrot turns out to want to be an Earthling, then beats me by a fluke. Then I'm taken hostage by this stupid woman, this planet doesn't have healing tanks, and she puts me in pants.
She sways on back to the door like she's about to leave me in here. "Hey," I say, "at least fucking get me some food."
"Whine, whine, whine," she rolls her eyes, and believe you me, if I had the strength right now I'd get up and punch her straight through that nice, heavy door. What a bitch. I wonder if all the women on this planet are so suicidal. They must be stronger than the men, or else there'd surely be fewer of them around. "Let me guess, you eat like a pig?" she asks.
"What's a pig?" I say, and she grins like it's funny. Whatever.
"Too cute," she does the one-eye-closed thing, and sashays out the door.
Don't get me wrong, it ain't like I'm used to being the strongest thing in the universe. Vegeta and Nappa take care to remind me of that just about every time I do anything worth anything. But, here's the thing: it sure as hell don't sit right with me to be second to my weak little baby brother and this—human. Granted, I'll be well soon enough and both of those problems will be fixed, but I don't know how long it'll take me to heal without the tank. There's some pretty fancy shit in this place, I can see through the little window in the room they put me in, but I guess it was too much to expect that a backwater planet like Earth have anything useful.
I guess if I really wanted I could off the woman pretty quick, but, I dunno, she said she's bringing me something to eat, and for an alien with the most obnoxious hair color this side of the galaxy, she's pretty easy on the eyes.
See, 'cause, unlike Vegeta, who thinks he's too good for anything and anyone who ain't a Saiyan (uptight little bastard; I do wonder sometimes if he's ever gotten any), Nappa and me don't have a problem with checking out the locals. Now, Vegeta tries to get us to follow along with his whole obsession, keeps us on a short leash and all, but, hell, we're a dying race. Been fucking decades since I've seen a Saiyan female; I was so young back then I doubt my memory even serves me well enough to remember what we did inside that pod together.
The mission I was on while the stupid meteors destroyed our planet was a long one—I made do with no moral qualms. I don't imagine Vegeta gets it (again, I gotta wonder—maybe he's never fucked anyone before, one of those deals where you don't miss what you never had—seems hard to believe he'd hold off knowing what he's missing). So whenever I can, I sneak away from 'im and do as I wish. Wonder on occasion if I don't got a kid or twelve out there, but I ain't inclined to care at present, and besides, if Vegeta caught wind of it I'd say he might go out of his way to off 'em.
Ain't too long before she's back. "I brought you some chicken," she sets down a heaping plate beside me. "And I didn't know what you'd like, so here's some more stuff." Behind her some guy wheels in a cart with about thirty more plates like the first one she set down.
Damn. Yeah, keeping her alive was the right choice. Now if I could just find something to wear instead of these fucking constrictive pants.
"Anyway, I have some important stuff to work on," she glances me over, like she's trying to figure whether I'm suddenly well enough to leap outta bed. She points to a weird thing mounted on the wall right beside my bed. "Press this button if you need to talk to me, if you need any bandages or food or anything," she says.
I shrug and reach over to the food. She sighs all dramatic-like and leaves, but I'm too busy digging in to even answer when the last thing she says before shutting the door is, "Pig."
...
"Hey. Hey!" somebody with the most irritating voice in existence is shoving on my shoulders. My eyes open up halfway.
Aw, shit. It's Kakarrot.
"Hey, I just wanna say, I hope you forgive us for beating you up so bad," he says, grinning this stupid grin and scratching his head. I wonder if it's the same day, because he still looks like he had the tar beaten out of him. He looks around and so do I—the woman is outside the window, bending over something on her table a ways away. "Has Bulma been taking good care of you?"
"Bulma?" I ask. Is that their god around here?
"Yeah, you know, my friend over there," he motions out the window to Miss "Studying My Armor."
"Oh," I shrug, and then look him in the eye. "Why the fuck do you care?"
"I guess I shoulda asked if you've hurt her, but she looks okay," Kakarrot laughs his annoying little laugh. "So, y'know..." he trails off like I actually know whatever the hell he was going to say.
"You realize, Kakarrot," I tell him, "that the moment I recover I am going to beat the shit out of you, possibly killing you in the process?"
"I doubt it." That fucking stupid grin.
"Unless," I continue, "you sober the hell up and realize that you aren't one of these people." He doesn't seem to get the point, even though he opens his mouth like he wants to talk, so I add on, "You're a Saiyan, Kakarrot, and if you continue to act like we're the piss of the universe I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."
"Well, it's just, you do mean things," he whimpers. What I wouldn't give to slug him right about now...but I don't want to fall off the bed.
"Look," I grit my teeth, "maybe if you wouldn't have grown up on such a tiny nice pretty little rock you'd know by now that the universe ain't so beautiful. What we do? Everybody does. Well. Everybody who ever had any power." His brows knit like he's trying to pick through my words. "The only difference is, we Saiyans like it. A lot."
"Which is mean," he finishes. Fuck. The man is deaf.
"Please," I don't even try to hold back the growl in my throat. "Don't tell me you've never done anything 'mean' for a good fight."
"A fight?" he seems to be searching through his tiny little brain. You'd think it'd be easy for him to remember things, given all that extra space he's got from forgetting all the important stuff. "I dunno..."
"Where were you just before this?" I ask.
"Fighting Piccolo," he grins, "training and stuff."
"Piccolo," I repeat—right. The green one. The Namekian, or so I suspect.
"Oh!" his eyes are bright like a little tiny star just went supernova in his too-soft skull. "You know, when I fought Piccolo at the Tenkaichi Budokai, everyone was pretty mad I gave him a senzu bean."
"A what?"
"A bean that makes you all better," he grins. "I gave one to Piccolo a long time ago, when he was kind of like a bad guy, I guess."
Heh. It's like the fool doesn't even realize he just proved my point. "Ah, much as you are allowing me to heal when you know full-well that I will slaughter everyone on your planet the moment I get the chance. Why ever did you let me live?" I get this guy by now. He's so weak he can't even stand the thought of killing. Unfortunate, but at least it's worth a laugh.
"Oh," he seems to consider it. "Well, I won't let you do that."
Yeah, right. "Kakarrot, you see, you have put your entire precious little world in danger, and I get the feeling it's only because you want to fight me again," I say. He shrugs so I continue, "You merely lack the bloodlust typical of a Saiyan, perhaps because you haven't experienced it yet."
"I'm not doing nothin' like that!" he yells at me, frowning. Ugh—that voice. "Look," he rubs his fingers against his forehead. "I only came here to see how you're doing, okay? I don't like you much," he crosses his arms, "at all. An' it's not like I care whether you're my brother."
"Whatever, Kakarrot," I growl.
His voice becomes vicious, and, frankly, it gives me chills. "My name is Son Goku." The power that would have been there if he were instead asserting himself as a Saiyan... I don't know what to do with him—he disgusts me. To waste what kind of power he could have if I whipped him into shape is a shame. His son seems no better—a crybaby. Still, that power is again something else. If it wouldn't have caught me off-guard, when he burst out of my pod and struck me—
It's a damn good thing I don't have anything else to say, because the door slams shut behind him before I can even respond. Kakarrot and that woman—Bulma—exchange some words and he walks out of the view of my window. Then Bulma marches into my room.
"What the hell, Raditz?" she stomps, slamming the door behind her as she enters, even louder than Kakarrot had. "He was only checking on you! You jerk!"
Whatever. I'm not gonna dignify that with a response. Forget what I said before; 'easy on the eyes' is the last thing she is. Bitch. "Where are my shorts?" Then I have a more important question, "How long was I asleep?"
"Three days," she spits, like she's mad at me about it. "And I've been doing more important things than finding clothes for you in that time."
"Oh," I can't keep my teeth from showing, "completely destroying my pod? My scouter? My armor?"
"Hardly," she says with a dainty condescending little bitch-ass breath of melody. My muscles tighten up. "And, by the way," she comes up to the head of the bed and starts pulling back the covers, glancing up and down my body, or what she can see past these damn tiny clothes. "You still look like shit."
"Eager to die, are we?" I look her in the eye, but she's just glancing over me again. Her eyes stop very pointedly on the portion of my skin between where the top piece of clothing—which was entirely too small—stops, and the stupid pants she put on me start. I stretch a little and her eyes are stuck there. Heh. "I look like shit, huh?"
She gives this exasperated groan and smacks her fist against my chest. Ah—now this could be a fun game. I shift my arm just a little and trap her hand where it landed, and her eyes nearly burst out of her head. "Let go," she hisses.
From the way she's standing, I can see straight down her shirt and am reminded of something else. "Why were you looking at my armor if you already have some?" I ask her, still holding her hand against me.
"Armor?" she glances at herself.
With a little effort, I let go of her hand and pull myself up so that I'm sitting, apparently a lot faster than she thought I could because she doesn't even have it in her to jump away, for how surprised she looks. I yank down the collar of her shirt and grab hold of the—oh.
This armor is a lot...softer...than I had expected. Maybe it's not really—
Suddenly there is a very painful burn on my face and I am on my back again. The door nearly falls from its hinges as it shuts and through the window I see somebody with very, very red skin and very, very blue hair scoop up a bunch of papers and storm out of sight.
Dammit.
Converting /tmp/phpXspPzl to /dev/stdout
Hope this chapter is okay. I always feel like I'm leaving something out that I should have thought to include, especially because things are moving a bit differently than I thought they would. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
...
"It was a rhetorical question."
A rhetorical question, she says. Like she's too good for real questions.
This is almost the worst day of my life. Kakarrot turns out to want to be an Earthling, then beats me by a fluke. Then I'm taken hostage by this stupid woman, this planet doesn't have healing tanks, and she puts me in pants.
She sways on back to the door like she's about to leave me in here. "Hey," I say, "at least fucking get me some food."
"Whine, whine, whine," she rolls her eyes, and believe you me, if I had the strength right now I'd get up and punch her straight through that nice, heavy door. What a bitch. I wonder if all the women on this planet are so suicidal. They must be stronger than the men, or else there'd surely be fewer of them around. "Let me guess, you eat like a pig?" she asks.
"What's a pig?" I say, and she grins like it's funny. Whatever.
"Too cute," she does the one-eye-closed thing, and sashays out the door.
Don't get me wrong, it ain't like I'm used to being the strongest thing in the universe. Vegeta and Nappa take care to remind me of that just about every time I do anything worth anything. But, here's the thing: it sure as hell don't sit right with me to be second to my weak little baby brother and this—human. Granted, I'll be well soon enough and both of those problems will be fixed, but I don't know how long it'll take me to heal without the tank. There's some pretty fancy shit in this place, I can see through the little window in the room they put me in, but I guess it was too much to expect that a backwater planet like Earth have anything useful.
I guess if I really wanted I could off the woman pretty quick, but, I dunno, she said she's bringing me something to eat, and for an alien with the most obnoxious hair color this side of the galaxy, she's pretty easy on the eyes.
See, 'cause, unlike Vegeta, who thinks he's too good for anything and anyone who ain't a Saiyan (uptight little bastard; I do wonder sometimes if he's ever gotten any), Nappa and me don't have a problem with checking out the locals. Now, Vegeta tries to get us to follow along with his whole obsession, keeps us on a short leash and all, but, hell, we're a dying race. Been fucking decades since I've seen a Saiyan female; I was so young back then I doubt my memory even serves me well enough to remember what we did inside that pod together.
The mission I was on while the stupid meteors destroyed our planet was a long one—I made do with no moral qualms. I don't imagine Vegeta gets it (again, I gotta wonder—maybe he's never fucked anyone before, one of those deals where you don't miss what you never had—seems hard to believe he'd hold off knowing what he's missing). So whenever I can, I sneak away from 'im and do as I wish. Wonder on occasion if I don't got a kid or twelve out there, but I ain't inclined to care at present, and besides, if Vegeta caught wind of it I'd say he might go out of his way to off 'em.
Ain't too long before she's back. "I brought you some chicken," she sets down a heaping plate beside me. "And I didn't know what you'd like, so here's some more stuff." Behind her some guy wheels in a cart with about thirty more plates like the first one she set down.
Damn. Yeah, keeping her alive was the right choice. Now if I could just find something to wear instead of these fucking constrictive pants.
"Anyway, I have some important stuff to work on," she glances me over, like she's trying to figure whether I'm suddenly well enough to leap outta bed. She points to a weird thing mounted on the wall right beside my bed. "Press this button if you need to talk to me, if you need any bandages or food or anything," she says.
I shrug and reach over to the food. She sighs all dramatic-like and leaves, but I'm too busy digging in to even answer when the last thing she says before shutting the door is, "Pig."
...
"Hey. Hey!" somebody with the most irritating voice in existence is shoving on my shoulders. My eyes open up halfway.
Aw, shit. It's Kakarrot.
"Hey, I just wanna say, I hope you forgive us for beating you up so bad," he says, grinning this stupid grin and scratching his head. I wonder if it's the same day, because he still looks like he had the tar beaten out of him. He looks around and so do I—the woman is outside the window, bending over something on her table a ways away. "Has Bulma been taking good care of you?"
"Bulma?" I ask. Is that their god around here?
"Yeah, you know, my friend over there," he motions out the window to Miss "Studying My Armor."
"Oh," I shrug, and then look him in the eye. "Why the fuck do you care?"
"I guess I shoulda asked if you've hurt her, but she looks okay," Kakarrot laughs his annoying little laugh. "So, y'know..." he trails off like I actually know whatever the hell he was going to say.
"You realize, Kakarrot," I tell him, "that the moment I recover I am going to beat the shit out of you, possibly killing you in the process?"
"I doubt it." That fucking stupid grin.
"Unless," I continue, "you sober the hell up and realize that you aren't one of these people." He doesn't seem to get the point, even though he opens his mouth like he wants to talk, so I add on, "You're a Saiyan, Kakarrot, and if you continue to act like we're the piss of the universe I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."
"Well, it's just, you do mean things," he whimpers. What I wouldn't give to slug him right about now...but I don't want to fall off the bed.
"Look," I grit my teeth, "maybe if you wouldn't have grown up on such a tiny nice pretty little rock you'd know by now that the universe ain't so beautiful. What we do? Everybody does. Well. Everybody who ever had any power." His brows knit like he's trying to pick through my words. "The only difference is, we Saiyans like it. A lot."
"Which is mean," he finishes. Fuck. The man is deaf.
"Please," I don't even try to hold back the growl in my throat. "Don't tell me you've never done anything 'mean' for a good fight."
"A fight?" he seems to be searching through his tiny little brain. You'd think it'd be easy for him to remember things, given all that extra space he's got from forgetting all the important stuff. "I dunno..."
"Where were you just before this?" I ask.
"Fighting Piccolo," he grins, "training and stuff."
"Piccolo," I repeat—right. The green one. The Namekian, or so I suspect.
"Oh!" his eyes are bright like a little tiny star just went supernova in his too-soft skull. "You know, when I fought Piccolo at the Tenkaichi Budokai, everyone was pretty mad I gave him a senzu bean."
"A what?"
"A bean that makes you all better," he grins. "I gave one to Piccolo a long time ago, when he was kind of like a bad guy, I guess."
Heh. It's like the fool doesn't even realize he just proved my point. "Ah, much as you are allowing me to heal when you know full-well that I will slaughter everyone on your planet the moment I get the chance. Why ever did you let me live?" I get this guy by now. He's so weak he can't even stand the thought of killing. Unfortunate, but at least it's worth a laugh.
"Oh," he seems to consider it. "Well, I won't let you do that."
Yeah, right. "Kakarrot, you see, you have put your entire precious little world in danger, and I get the feeling it's only because you want to fight me again," I say. He shrugs so I continue, "You merely lack the bloodlust typical of a Saiyan, perhaps because you haven't experienced it yet."
"I'm not doing nothin' like that!" he yells at me, frowning. Ugh—that voice. "Look," he rubs his fingers against his forehead. "I only came here to see how you're doing, okay? I don't like you much," he crosses his arms, "at all. An' it's not like I care whether you're my brother."
"Whatever, Kakarrot," I growl.
His voice becomes vicious, and, frankly, it gives me chills. "My name is Son Goku." The power that would have been there if he were instead asserting himself as a Saiyan... I don't know what to do with him—he disgusts me. To waste what kind of power he could have if I whipped him into shape is a shame. His son seems no better—a crybaby. Still, that power is again something else. If it wouldn't have caught me off-guard, when he burst out of my pod and struck me—
It's a damn good thing I don't have anything else to say, because the door slams shut behind him before I can even respond. Kakarrot and that woman—Bulma—exchange some words and he walks out of the view of my window. Then Bulma marches into my room.
"What the hell, Raditz?" she stomps, slamming the door behind her as she enters, even louder than Kakarrot had. "He was only checking on you! You jerk!"
Whatever. I'm not gonna dignify that with a response. Forget what I said before; 'easy on the eyes' is the last thing she is. Bitch. "Where are my shorts?" Then I have a more important question, "How long was I asleep?"
"Three days," she spits, like she's mad at me about it. "And I've been doing more important things than finding clothes for you in that time."
"Oh," I can't keep my teeth from showing, "completely destroying my pod? My scouter? My armor?"
"Hardly," she says with a dainty condescending little bitch-ass breath of melody. My muscles tighten up. "And, by the way," she comes up to the head of the bed and starts pulling back the covers, glancing up and down my body, or what she can see past these damn tiny clothes. "You still look like shit."
"Eager to die, are we?" I look her in the eye, but she's just glancing over me again. Her eyes stop very pointedly on the portion of my skin between where the top piece of clothing—which was entirely too small—stops, and the stupid pants she put on me start. I stretch a little and her eyes are stuck there. Heh. "I look like shit, huh?"
She gives this exasperated groan and smacks her fist against my chest. Ah—now this could be a fun game. I shift my arm just a little and trap her hand where it landed, and her eyes nearly burst out of her head. "Let go," she hisses.
From the way she's standing, I can see straight down her shirt and am reminded of something else. "Why were you looking at my armor if you already have some?" I ask her, still holding her hand against me.
"Armor?" she glances at herself.
With a little effort, I let go of her hand and pull myself up so that I'm sitting, apparently a lot faster than she thought I could because she doesn't even have it in her to jump away, for how surprised she looks. I yank down the collar of her shirt and grab hold of the—oh.
This armor is a lot...softer...than I had expected. Maybe it's not really—
Suddenly there is a very painful burn on my face and I am on my back again. The door nearly falls from its hinges as it shuts and through the window I see somebody with very, very red skin and very, very blue hair scoop up a bunch of papers and storm out of sight.
Dammit.
Converting /tmp/phpXspPzl to /dev/stdout