Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Garrulous and Gritless ❯ I, 8: Raditz ( Chapter 8 )
[ 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: 2.9K | Visits: 292 | 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: 2.9K | Visits: 292 | Status: Completed
I'm getting better. It's real slow—much slower than if this planet had had a goddamned healing tank—but I'm getting better.
This woman Bulma seems to have noticed. I see her scurrying around her lab almost nonstop now; I didn't think it possible for something like a human to stay awake for so many hours straight, but she does it. I don't think I could stay awake that long short of if I'm caught in battle the whole time. But that's how all us Saiyans are. I told her this a few days ago. She said, with her eyes narrow like she was tryin' real hard to nail me against the wall with 'em, "No rest for the wicked, I suppose." Then she snickered to herself while she was walking out. Until I told her that by that token she's wickeder than me. Then she laughed. It was a joke, but I'm starting to believe it's true; nothing outside a' Hell could do the kinds of things she manages.
For instance: this morning she came in here with her nose up holding a big chunk of something or another. "Raditz," she said, looking down at me and dropping the stupid thing on my lap, "can you break this?"
I know a challenge when I hear one. But, damn, that stuff was solid. I couldn't manage it.
And now she has some crew putting it up as my new walls, an' I see her through my window working on something else, looks like a clear version for the window. I'm like a regular little exhibit down here, I swear.
Even got visitors and everything.
Well, one.
Kakarrot.
Comes back about every other fucking day trying to persuade me to be good, to "call my buddies off," to spar with him, godforsaken traitor to the Saiyan race, for fun. Every now and again I slug him across the face to remind him who I am, and that he shouldn't a' managed to beat me anyway. I think he's getting scared, but he's a persistent little bastard. Meanwhile, he's deaf to my much more sensible offers. Shit, joining up with me and Nappa and Vegeta would solve all his problems, so far as I can see. They might be talked into leaving this stupid planet alone in exchange for him an' his whelp; weak though they are, they could be whipped into shape easy enough. Especially by Vegeta.
Bulma don't like that I beat some sense into him occasionally, but she's stopped yelling at me about it. Maybe Kakarrot told her to quit her bitching, that he's a big boy and he can take it; but, so far as I can see, he ain't, and she likely just gave up on it entirely.
Speaking of Bulma, she called me up on that contraption not long ago, said she was getting me something to wear to replace those godawful tight pants I tore up. Asked me my size. Assuming you're thinking the same thing as me, the only thing that question can mean from what I can tell, well, you'd be the sensible one. But she ain't. No. Screamed and hollered at me until I figured I oughtta just put that so-called 'phone' back on the wall. I mean, shit. You ask a man his size, what's he gonna tell you?
So instead she brought damn well near an entire clothing shop into my room with some magical pill-looking thing. (Apparently by size, she meant to ask how wide around my waist is.) She screamed and hollered some more and told me I was trying on the shorts here and now. Stood with her arms over her stupid voluptuous human chest and tapped her foot on the floor until I pulled on each of the garments and showed her it did or didn't fit. Her face got redder and redder as we went and I reckon it was from all that tapping and all that huffing. Meanwhile I got myself a raging hard-on which must a' come from all those shorts going on and off my lower half; sure as hell couldn't have been anything else since by that time all I was doing was staring at her disgustingly round ass as she turned and faced into a corner, bright bright red in the face.
Fine—fine. So I might actually think this witch is the slightest bit attractive. But I'm desperate. So. I'm not up to trusting my judgment just now.
And anyway, she has that human boy fawning over her constantly, so she's probably getting plenty and not near as blinded by desperation as I gotta be by this point.
I mean, fucking blue hair. Ridiculous.
...
By the nighttime, my new little cage is done. All the crew's gone and since I'm well enough to stand again, I get up and pound the walls, the glass, every little corner to test it.
Shit, I hate this feeling.
But when I'm better, I'll be stronger—and I'll blast a goddamn hole through this thing. I don't wanna try it just yet—make her forget that I can do it so she don't build something that's everything-proof.
"What the hell do you want?" she swings the door open. The human she calls Yamcha is behind her, glaring at me like he thinks I give a damn about him. I could do him off even right now.
"Just testing it," I answer, grinning a little just to piss her off. "You sneaky bitch."
Her boy steps forward a couple steps so he's almost through the door. "Hey!" he says to me. He must feel so clever.
"Don't worry about it, Yamcha," she says, patting his back and giving him a disgustingly cute little kiss on the cheek. "He's just an asshole," she then adds on, staring me straight in the eye as she says it. I grin even bigger 'cause it's true.
"Well, Raditz," he keeps talking anyway, "let me tell you this—if you hurt her, you die." Kid seems more confident about it then he did last time he threatened me not to touch her—like she needs his defense on that front. So far as I can tell laying a finger on her's about like digging your grave on the surface of a star, so what's the use of his little campfire threats?
"Whatever," I say, and for good measure jab up my middle finger at him. "I ain't interested. That woman is ugly as shit anyway." He looks at me like he's gonna explode at me for it, and Bulma just gives him a little shove and leads him out the door. I can't hear them so well outside through these new walls, but if I press my ear up against one of 'em, it sounds like she's telling him off. Well, at least somebody realizes that fool is gonna get hurt if he keeps up what he's doing. And I suspect he's even weaker than Kakarrot. Wonder if a cuff on the face'd spin his head clean around...
About ten minutes later, Bulma comes back. First thing she says when she comes in the door is, "Don't harass him like that." Then, she does the closing-one-eye thing, which from what I gathered ain't a symptom of a disease, but rather something humans do to look cute an' curry favor and so on, and goes on, "Besides, I know you don't think I'm that ugly."
"I do," I answer.
"Look," she says, coming up to the bed, which I've sat back down in since listening to her and that boy leaving. "I know that one of these days you're going to recover enough to get out of here." She looks pretty concerned, brows all bunched together in the middle. "From what I read on your scouter," I'm about to reach out and grab her by the collar, to shake her up and see if she has it, but she must know, 'cause she adds, "which is hidden away far away from you," and goes back to her normal, not-about-to-slit-my-throat voice, "you're getting stronger every day, and Son agrees. I'm not sure if I can build something strong enough fast enough."
"Great," I say, and lean close to her and grin my toothiest grin because it scares the shit out of her. Except, apparently, this time, when she just stares right back at me. Maybe I've been using this one too much.
"I want you to promise you won't, I don't know, blow up the Earth or something," she plants her hands right against her hips as she says it.
I roll my eyes at her—she hates it because she always does it to me. "I wouldn't blow this mudball up," I tell her, and it's the truth, "since it's worth a fair amount of money. I'd just wipe all you nasty humans out."
"Oh?" she lifts one of those disturbingly blue eyebrows, "Including the one who's fixing your space pod as we speak?"
I shrug. "Doubt it'd be much trouble for Vegeta and Nappa t' bring me a new one. Likely they'll call in for one soon's they get down here and find me. Maybe I can fix it myself; it's not as if I've never done it before. Or I can kill you and find that goddamn scouter, and call for one myself, sooner."
She don't seem to like this. "So you'd kill me?" she asks. "After I've fed you and everything?"
Which is ridiculous, so I laugh. "You can still feed me," I say, "once I've roasted you." This is too much for her, I guess, because she backs up until her ass smacks against the wall, a look of complete horror in her face. This is priceless, so I've gotta continue. I look her up and down for effect, and then lick my lips and add, "Thighs might be good..."
I was thinking she might run away, but she doesn't. She's real pale and I wonder for a second if she died right on the spot—which would be hilarious, but a real shame.
"Bulma?" I say.
"Y-you wouldn't..." she stutters, and I'm a little surprised that knowing she ain't dead somehow makes my chest less tight, "...really...do that...would you?"
Don't know if it's a great idea to screw around with her cute little human brain anymore, in case she really does die next time, so I just say, "Naw."
"Promise?" she asks, still stuck against the wall.
"Damn," I say, in a nice soft voice that'll maybe unfreeze her, "you drive a hard bargain." I act like I'm considering it, but only for a second. "Fine."
Truth be told, I might've, had the chance come up—I mean, a Saiyan's gotta eat and I've never tasted human before; everything's worth a try once. But something tells me if I do it to her she'll come back from the dead just to make my life miserable for it. Probably she will whether I do or not, just to fuck with me, since she seems to have so much fun doing that. I'm too distracted imagining a ghost of her hiding from me in my hair to see her come back up to the side of the bed.
What snaps me out of my distraction is her slapping me.
Hard.
I do not understand human women. But from the sound of it (by which I mean the words of Bulma's father, that Yamcha boy, and Kakarrot, who's damn near one of them), neither do human men.
Then she stares at me real intently, which is new. Usually when she slaps me, she marches right out. "Aren't you going to say sorry?" she finally says, her voice quiet and dangerous, and it quivers just a little bit like she's just barely containing something.
"For what?" I say. Hell if I know what she's talking about. Is there some part of this slapping ritual that I'm not following?
She throws her arms into the air and almost bashes her head into my nose when she straightens back up. "For threatening to eat me, that's fucking what!" she screams, and starts pounding against my chest with her cute little balled-up fists. I watch her for a little while, 'cause I'm fairly certain if I say anything she's not gonna hear it over her incoherent rambling anyway.
"—and I sure as hell am not a dessert!" I catch the tail end of it. She shouts a primal shout and starts pounding on my chest again, and this time I reach over real carefully (not that she notices) and put one hand on either side of her waist, lifting her up above me so her arms just swing all crazy-like but don't hit my chest. (They do hit my arms, but, hell, I can take it.) Gradually she comes to stop moving, and she's breathing like crazy, I imagine from all the yelling and swinging body parts around. She dangles there awkwardly and real pointedly makes an effort not to look at me.
Hell if I know what to do, but I think I fucked something up pretty bad because now there's water dripping from her face and it ain't sweat. She twitches a little but is mainly pretty quiet—for once. For some reason I don't feel so great about this quiet. From where my hands are on her waist I can feel her muscles spasm ever time she takes in a breath. Shit.
"What did I do?" I say. I mean, she arready told me, but I'm not exactly ready to believe all that fuss was just over that.
She mumbles some halfhearted curses at me, not nearly as colorful as her usual, kinda like her skin just before she started screaming. Maybe she's ill all of a sudden. I don't know how it is with humans, but when something catches me my skin gets pretty hot. Granted, their skin seems cooler anyway, so I dunno if I can tell between the usual and a little hotter than the usual. Guess if her skin feels like mine there's bound to be something wrong... Kinda slowly, so I don't surprise her, I lower her back down so that she's lying on me, and press one hand on her face. She don't feel too hot; her skin's pretty normally cool. Her eyes are all red but I gather that's from the crying.
Finally she looks straight at me and bites her lip. "Raditz," she says, and I ain't never heard my name spoken so quietly. My guts feel weird at the sound of it.
"What now?" I say, and I can't keep looking at her, because the more I do, the weirder my innards get. I press her head down against my shoulder so she won't try to look at me again, and she sort of nuzzles in. Weird.
"Don't let your friends eat me, either," she whimpers.
"Naw," I say. Anything to make her stop acting up. Her face is ugly as fuck with her eyes swollen and trails that tears burned down her cheeks.
"Promise?" she asks, with her head turned just a little so her breath goes in my ear.
Shit. Maybe it's her tits against my chest. Maybe it's her tongue right by my ear. Maybe it's my goddamn innards that make me promise things I can't. "Sure."
...
Once I got better, all it took was a flash of light. Bulma was right when she said I'd get stronger faster'n she could box me in. It was only a few days after that first new layer she made that I was fully recovered.
It was glorious, all of it. The way he choked on his stupid grin, his eyes and the way they looked at me like I was the traitor—the hole through his chest when he finally got what I shoulda given him before. The hole through the wall that I tossed him past, so he could lie there and rot on the surface of his precious Earth.
I don't know what I'm gonna do next, with that done, my heart pounding from the excitement. Maybe I should hunt down that Namekian bastard. Maybe I should kidnap Kakarrot's spawn and train him myself, to be a proper Saiyan and make his uncle proud. Maybe I should blow out a few towns to make sure I remember how it feels. Maybe I should find that scouter and tell Vegeta and Nappa that Kakarrot was a waste of time, anyway.
I don't have much time to muse on it before a massive jolt from behind me knocks me to the ground.
Converting /tmp/phpWyWSZx to /dev/stdout
This woman Bulma seems to have noticed. I see her scurrying around her lab almost nonstop now; I didn't think it possible for something like a human to stay awake for so many hours straight, but she does it. I don't think I could stay awake that long short of if I'm caught in battle the whole time. But that's how all us Saiyans are. I told her this a few days ago. She said, with her eyes narrow like she was tryin' real hard to nail me against the wall with 'em, "No rest for the wicked, I suppose." Then she snickered to herself while she was walking out. Until I told her that by that token she's wickeder than me. Then she laughed. It was a joke, but I'm starting to believe it's true; nothing outside a' Hell could do the kinds of things she manages.
For instance: this morning she came in here with her nose up holding a big chunk of something or another. "Raditz," she said, looking down at me and dropping the stupid thing on my lap, "can you break this?"
I know a challenge when I hear one. But, damn, that stuff was solid. I couldn't manage it.
And now she has some crew putting it up as my new walls, an' I see her through my window working on something else, looks like a clear version for the window. I'm like a regular little exhibit down here, I swear.
Even got visitors and everything.
Well, one.
Kakarrot.
Comes back about every other fucking day trying to persuade me to be good, to "call my buddies off," to spar with him, godforsaken traitor to the Saiyan race, for fun. Every now and again I slug him across the face to remind him who I am, and that he shouldn't a' managed to beat me anyway. I think he's getting scared, but he's a persistent little bastard. Meanwhile, he's deaf to my much more sensible offers. Shit, joining up with me and Nappa and Vegeta would solve all his problems, so far as I can see. They might be talked into leaving this stupid planet alone in exchange for him an' his whelp; weak though they are, they could be whipped into shape easy enough. Especially by Vegeta.
Bulma don't like that I beat some sense into him occasionally, but she's stopped yelling at me about it. Maybe Kakarrot told her to quit her bitching, that he's a big boy and he can take it; but, so far as I can see, he ain't, and she likely just gave up on it entirely.
Speaking of Bulma, she called me up on that contraption not long ago, said she was getting me something to wear to replace those godawful tight pants I tore up. Asked me my size. Assuming you're thinking the same thing as me, the only thing that question can mean from what I can tell, well, you'd be the sensible one. But she ain't. No. Screamed and hollered at me until I figured I oughtta just put that so-called 'phone' back on the wall. I mean, shit. You ask a man his size, what's he gonna tell you?
So instead she brought damn well near an entire clothing shop into my room with some magical pill-looking thing. (Apparently by size, she meant to ask how wide around my waist is.) She screamed and hollered some more and told me I was trying on the shorts here and now. Stood with her arms over her stupid voluptuous human chest and tapped her foot on the floor until I pulled on each of the garments and showed her it did or didn't fit. Her face got redder and redder as we went and I reckon it was from all that tapping and all that huffing. Meanwhile I got myself a raging hard-on which must a' come from all those shorts going on and off my lower half; sure as hell couldn't have been anything else since by that time all I was doing was staring at her disgustingly round ass as she turned and faced into a corner, bright bright red in the face.
Fine—fine. So I might actually think this witch is the slightest bit attractive. But I'm desperate. So. I'm not up to trusting my judgment just now.
And anyway, she has that human boy fawning over her constantly, so she's probably getting plenty and not near as blinded by desperation as I gotta be by this point.
I mean, fucking blue hair. Ridiculous.
...
By the nighttime, my new little cage is done. All the crew's gone and since I'm well enough to stand again, I get up and pound the walls, the glass, every little corner to test it.
Shit, I hate this feeling.
But when I'm better, I'll be stronger—and I'll blast a goddamn hole through this thing. I don't wanna try it just yet—make her forget that I can do it so she don't build something that's everything-proof.
"What the hell do you want?" she swings the door open. The human she calls Yamcha is behind her, glaring at me like he thinks I give a damn about him. I could do him off even right now.
"Just testing it," I answer, grinning a little just to piss her off. "You sneaky bitch."
Her boy steps forward a couple steps so he's almost through the door. "Hey!" he says to me. He must feel so clever.
"Don't worry about it, Yamcha," she says, patting his back and giving him a disgustingly cute little kiss on the cheek. "He's just an asshole," she then adds on, staring me straight in the eye as she says it. I grin even bigger 'cause it's true.
"Well, Raditz," he keeps talking anyway, "let me tell you this—if you hurt her, you die." Kid seems more confident about it then he did last time he threatened me not to touch her—like she needs his defense on that front. So far as I can tell laying a finger on her's about like digging your grave on the surface of a star, so what's the use of his little campfire threats?
"Whatever," I say, and for good measure jab up my middle finger at him. "I ain't interested. That woman is ugly as shit anyway." He looks at me like he's gonna explode at me for it, and Bulma just gives him a little shove and leads him out the door. I can't hear them so well outside through these new walls, but if I press my ear up against one of 'em, it sounds like she's telling him off. Well, at least somebody realizes that fool is gonna get hurt if he keeps up what he's doing. And I suspect he's even weaker than Kakarrot. Wonder if a cuff on the face'd spin his head clean around...
About ten minutes later, Bulma comes back. First thing she says when she comes in the door is, "Don't harass him like that." Then, she does the closing-one-eye thing, which from what I gathered ain't a symptom of a disease, but rather something humans do to look cute an' curry favor and so on, and goes on, "Besides, I know you don't think I'm that ugly."
"I do," I answer.
"Look," she says, coming up to the bed, which I've sat back down in since listening to her and that boy leaving. "I know that one of these days you're going to recover enough to get out of here." She looks pretty concerned, brows all bunched together in the middle. "From what I read on your scouter," I'm about to reach out and grab her by the collar, to shake her up and see if she has it, but she must know, 'cause she adds, "which is hidden away far away from you," and goes back to her normal, not-about-to-slit-my-throat voice, "you're getting stronger every day, and Son agrees. I'm not sure if I can build something strong enough fast enough."
"Great," I say, and lean close to her and grin my toothiest grin because it scares the shit out of her. Except, apparently, this time, when she just stares right back at me. Maybe I've been using this one too much.
"I want you to promise you won't, I don't know, blow up the Earth or something," she plants her hands right against her hips as she says it.
I roll my eyes at her—she hates it because she always does it to me. "I wouldn't blow this mudball up," I tell her, and it's the truth, "since it's worth a fair amount of money. I'd just wipe all you nasty humans out."
"Oh?" she lifts one of those disturbingly blue eyebrows, "Including the one who's fixing your space pod as we speak?"
I shrug. "Doubt it'd be much trouble for Vegeta and Nappa t' bring me a new one. Likely they'll call in for one soon's they get down here and find me. Maybe I can fix it myself; it's not as if I've never done it before. Or I can kill you and find that goddamn scouter, and call for one myself, sooner."
She don't seem to like this. "So you'd kill me?" she asks. "After I've fed you and everything?"
Which is ridiculous, so I laugh. "You can still feed me," I say, "once I've roasted you." This is too much for her, I guess, because she backs up until her ass smacks against the wall, a look of complete horror in her face. This is priceless, so I've gotta continue. I look her up and down for effect, and then lick my lips and add, "Thighs might be good..."
I was thinking she might run away, but she doesn't. She's real pale and I wonder for a second if she died right on the spot—which would be hilarious, but a real shame.
"Bulma?" I say.
"Y-you wouldn't..." she stutters, and I'm a little surprised that knowing she ain't dead somehow makes my chest less tight, "...really...do that...would you?"
Don't know if it's a great idea to screw around with her cute little human brain anymore, in case she really does die next time, so I just say, "Naw."
"Promise?" she asks, still stuck against the wall.
"Damn," I say, in a nice soft voice that'll maybe unfreeze her, "you drive a hard bargain." I act like I'm considering it, but only for a second. "Fine."
Truth be told, I might've, had the chance come up—I mean, a Saiyan's gotta eat and I've never tasted human before; everything's worth a try once. But something tells me if I do it to her she'll come back from the dead just to make my life miserable for it. Probably she will whether I do or not, just to fuck with me, since she seems to have so much fun doing that. I'm too distracted imagining a ghost of her hiding from me in my hair to see her come back up to the side of the bed.
What snaps me out of my distraction is her slapping me.
Hard.
I do not understand human women. But from the sound of it (by which I mean the words of Bulma's father, that Yamcha boy, and Kakarrot, who's damn near one of them), neither do human men.
Then she stares at me real intently, which is new. Usually when she slaps me, she marches right out. "Aren't you going to say sorry?" she finally says, her voice quiet and dangerous, and it quivers just a little bit like she's just barely containing something.
"For what?" I say. Hell if I know what she's talking about. Is there some part of this slapping ritual that I'm not following?
She throws her arms into the air and almost bashes her head into my nose when she straightens back up. "For threatening to eat me, that's fucking what!" she screams, and starts pounding against my chest with her cute little balled-up fists. I watch her for a little while, 'cause I'm fairly certain if I say anything she's not gonna hear it over her incoherent rambling anyway.
"—and I sure as hell am not a dessert!" I catch the tail end of it. She shouts a primal shout and starts pounding on my chest again, and this time I reach over real carefully (not that she notices) and put one hand on either side of her waist, lifting her up above me so her arms just swing all crazy-like but don't hit my chest. (They do hit my arms, but, hell, I can take it.) Gradually she comes to stop moving, and she's breathing like crazy, I imagine from all the yelling and swinging body parts around. She dangles there awkwardly and real pointedly makes an effort not to look at me.
Hell if I know what to do, but I think I fucked something up pretty bad because now there's water dripping from her face and it ain't sweat. She twitches a little but is mainly pretty quiet—for once. For some reason I don't feel so great about this quiet. From where my hands are on her waist I can feel her muscles spasm ever time she takes in a breath. Shit.
"What did I do?" I say. I mean, she arready told me, but I'm not exactly ready to believe all that fuss was just over that.
She mumbles some halfhearted curses at me, not nearly as colorful as her usual, kinda like her skin just before she started screaming. Maybe she's ill all of a sudden. I don't know how it is with humans, but when something catches me my skin gets pretty hot. Granted, their skin seems cooler anyway, so I dunno if I can tell between the usual and a little hotter than the usual. Guess if her skin feels like mine there's bound to be something wrong... Kinda slowly, so I don't surprise her, I lower her back down so that she's lying on me, and press one hand on her face. She don't feel too hot; her skin's pretty normally cool. Her eyes are all red but I gather that's from the crying.
Finally she looks straight at me and bites her lip. "Raditz," she says, and I ain't never heard my name spoken so quietly. My guts feel weird at the sound of it.
"What now?" I say, and I can't keep looking at her, because the more I do, the weirder my innards get. I press her head down against my shoulder so she won't try to look at me again, and she sort of nuzzles in. Weird.
"Don't let your friends eat me, either," she whimpers.
"Naw," I say. Anything to make her stop acting up. Her face is ugly as fuck with her eyes swollen and trails that tears burned down her cheeks.
"Promise?" she asks, with her head turned just a little so her breath goes in my ear.
Shit. Maybe it's her tits against my chest. Maybe it's her tongue right by my ear. Maybe it's my goddamn innards that make me promise things I can't. "Sure."
...
Once I got better, all it took was a flash of light. Bulma was right when she said I'd get stronger faster'n she could box me in. It was only a few days after that first new layer she made that I was fully recovered.
It was glorious, all of it. The way he choked on his stupid grin, his eyes and the way they looked at me like I was the traitor—the hole through his chest when he finally got what I shoulda given him before. The hole through the wall that I tossed him past, so he could lie there and rot on the surface of his precious Earth.
I don't know what I'm gonna do next, with that done, my heart pounding from the excitement. Maybe I should hunt down that Namekian bastard. Maybe I should kidnap Kakarrot's spawn and train him myself, to be a proper Saiyan and make his uncle proud. Maybe I should blow out a few towns to make sure I remember how it feels. Maybe I should find that scouter and tell Vegeta and Nappa that Kakarrot was a waste of time, anyway.
I don't have much time to muse on it before a massive jolt from behind me knocks me to the ground.
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