Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 02: Same Time, Different Place ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 02

Piccolo looked 17 over, noticing subtle differences between this male and the android from their reality. Krillin studied 18 as if she were something the short man was considering purchasing, walking around her to make sure he took in all of her differences. Yamcha seemed to be mostly interested in the surroundings, not wanting to actually stare at the Saiyajin prince.

"Like what you see?" 18 sneered at her appraiser.

"So," 17 began. "Do you wish to see the sparring facilities where you and the other competitors will practice? I presume it will be you entering the tournament."

"Yes," Piccolo answered. "Of course."

"Of course," 17 repeated, turning sharply indicating the taller male should follow him down to a well-lit hallway. "This way."

There was a slight rustling as Lord Kakarrot also left the court chamber, heading out to his private rooms, his two sons trailing after him as well as Captain Ginyu. With their departure, others of the royal court knew that there was nothing left of interest in the room and also took their leave.

"Um, if it's okay with you, I'd rather find something to eat. I'm starving," Krillin intoned, looking over at 18 with curiosity.

With a curt nod of her blonde head, she turned and started walking towards the other end of the hallway, not even bothering to look and see if he was following, as if the only way he was going to stay safe was to keep in her shadow. Her arms crossed over her chest defensively, taking on an air of boredom. She knew he thought of her as nothing more than a pretty 'human' woman, probably nothing more useful than as breeding stock, but it still irked her that she'd have to guard him. Sometimes, she severely wondered about Lord Kakarrot's sense of humor.

Yamcha looked at Piccolo's retreating form and then at Krillin. Well, where was he supposed to go? He wouldn't mind doing both, eating and checking out the competition, but he could only do one at a time, and Vegeta was waiting for him to make up his mind. The rest of the court was gone already, and it was only him and the shorter male left. He turned to look at the dark prince's features, but they were mysteriously blank, as if he had found the perfect mask to hide behind. With a deep breath, he asked the royal, "So, where do YOU want to go?"

Vegeta blinked in surprise. It was obvious that the others were taking advantage of the situation by seizing control of their 'guest status,' so why wasn't this one? And did it matter? With a self-defeated sigh, resigning himself to his arbitrary guard duty, he offered a suggestion. "I recommend your quarters."

Blue eyes watched the exchange from up high before vanishing from the room to follow more interesting mysteries. Through twists and turns, the lithe, young figure moved with amazing silence. The Palace Ghost's life depended upon being insubstantial. Shimmying up and down various hidden pipes and pillars, the dark clad figure was one with the shadows that existed between the walls, between the realms of flesh and lies.

Piccolo's piercing gaze missed nothing in their assessment of the corridors of the palace. He noticed the way 17 moved, as if the android was trying to size him up as the others were doing, using a scouter of all things! The other fighters in the hallway parted ways, obviously in deference to the android, not to the new stranger. Piccolo was half tempted to show them all right then that he was more than a match for them, but that was a part of his soul that he didn't like to reveal unless he needed to. As much as he didn't want to reveal, though, there was much he needed to know.

"Why is this tournament held?" Piccolo asked.

"Because it amuses our Lord," 17 answered matter-of-factly. Turning his head slightly, he peered at the taller male. "Most fighters know this. Why is it you do not?"

"Me and mine ... do not really care for the politics of empires. We live our lives as we have to, fighting to survive and to protect," Piccolo replied as a non-answer. "For now, we find ourselves at the mercy of Lord Kakarrot's politics. It is necessary to understand more if we are to survive. Here, at least."

"And how long do you think you'll survive after you've placed your name on the bid to enter the tournament?" 17 asked, slowing down to look at his charge, his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Even if you make it past the first, qualifying round, you will still be going up against the Ginyu Force, Prince Gohan, and Prince Goten."

"I will survive much longer than you might first imagine," Piccolo stated, stopping with his 'guard' so that he wouldn't get lost. "But tell me, what kind of fighters, what kind of men are these princes?"

Glacial blue eyes looked at him before returning to look down the hall. "They are powerful. They are ruthless. They are vindictive and sometimes cruel. They are all these things and more. Prince Gohan is the royal heir, and is the Captain of the Home Guard, which means he is in direct control of all the guards in the palace other than my sister and me. He is, by far, the stronger -- physically -- of the two and has reached Super Saiyajin level, as his father has before him."

Piccolo flinched with each twist this universe produced. How could Gohan ever, ever have been turned cruel?

17 continued on, watching the green man more and more intently. "Prince Goten, on the other hand, is more of the strategist and does not have the same physical prowess of his sire, though he does hold the Emperor's... knack for obtaining answers. Prince Goten is the Royal Inquisitor; in reality, he's nothing more than a glorified spy and torturer. These are all well-known facts around the palace, though with you not paying attention to the 'politics of empires,' I'm sure it escaped your notice."

"And what of others around the palace? Do they pay all that much attention to the politics? Or is it all just a game of survival? Who will live to see the next sunrise?" Piccolo asked as the crowd around them began to thin. Even Goten was a shadow of his other self. How soul-stunningly sad.

"When it comes down to it, Demon Lord Piccolo, there is no difference," 17 retorted, beginning to enjoy their verbal sparring. "Now, Sir, here is the main training area. As you can see, there are a great many fighters who are already preparing for the tournament. If you ask really, really nicely, I'm sure that one of them might even be willing to spar with you without breaking you."

"And what if I did not want to spar with any of them?" Piccolo asked, looking at each of the flying, fighting, arrogant warriors training in honest earnestness to please their leader, and knowing that none of them would offer him the slightest bit of competition. "What if I wanted to fight you?"

"Then I would, of course, accommodate you by offering to spar with you."

"Good," replied Piccolo. "But later. It is too crowded presently, and I do not want you to be injured by one of their careless movements. Show me more of this place. I would not wish to get lost if you were unable to escort me at another time."

"I will always be able to do my duty," 17 answered. "It is what I live for."

"So, tell me more of the people of the palace..." Piccolo asked.

The two strolled through the halls, remarking on various things that struck them, though the conversation was light and shallow.



Krillin sat at a long table, eating a bowl of rice and something strange that tasted really good. Others were in the dining area as well, but he didn't appear to be paying them too much attention. Instead, when he set his bowl of food down, he looked at 18. She was also eating, yet she ate as if the task were unpleasant to her, unlike HIS 18, who ate with an air of boredom, true, but with a slight smile more often than not.

"You have a question, or are you looking at me like that for another reason?" 18 inquired after she swallowed her mouthful of food.

"I'm just wondering why you're not enjoying your food. Didn't you get what you wanted?" Krillin asked, trying to understand the differences between their worlds.

"I eat because I feel like it. I don't have to. Food is not required for me."

"So, why aren't you enjoying it?"

"Because they overcooked it."

"Oh," Krillin replied with a slight bob of his head. "So… how did you come to work for G--um, Lord Kakarrot?"

It was such a come-on sentence that 18 actually grinned at it. "It was after a battle that tested not only our strength, but also Lord Kakarrot's. My brother and I were created to destroy Lord Kakarrot by the resistance. Our creator, Dr. Gero, had thought to insert us here so that we'd have the chance to kill the Lord, but once we arrived and fought the Super Saiyajin, we discussed other options. Of course, when he first arrived, there were three of us. Now, there are only two. But, we have found our chosen service to be… fun."

"There was a resistance?" Krillin asked, wondering if his alter was part of it.

"Once, but that was long ago. LONG ago. I'm surprised you didn't know," 18 said, instantly curious. "Most human fighters were part of it."

"Oh, um, well...," Krillin laughed nervously. "I told you, I was a monk. I didn't get out much."

"That must be it," the blonde android replied, giving him that. "So, what now?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe take me to my room?" Krillin requested.

"Whatever you say," 18 sighed and began leading him down a strange hall. "This way. You are not allowed in the west wing, so we shall avoid that part of the palace, though it is between here and your room."

"Why's it off limits?"

"Because that is where the Emperor keeps his women. Lady Chichi, who is his wife, and womb to his children, lives on the lower level. She is guarded by Nappa, who does all her carrying and fetching for her as well. Lord Kakarrot does not care to visit her too often, which is just as well. Every time he does, she immediately breaks into hysterics so bad that it gives me a headache, and you can hear her screams throughout the palace. Actually, she screams like that every time she sees anyone. So, that is one reason that part of the palace is 'off limits'."

"Nappa?"

"Yes. He is her… nursemaid, if you will. You will understand in the morning, when it is time for her to have her bath. Her screaming will probably awaken you and yours."

"Um, I'm sorry, but it sounds like she's crazy."

"She is," 18 answered bluntly. "But she bore the first heir to the throne, and therefore she is given the title due her."

"How can G-Lord! Kakarrot love her?"

"He doesn't," 18 said. "Love has nothing to do with their arrangement. She is simply there as an incubator. In all truth, Lord Kakarrot loves -- obsesses over -- his lover, Mistress Bulma."

"He…loves Bulma?" Krillin asked slowly.

"Very much so. He values her so much that he will use her as a 'gift' to his best warriors. In recent years, that has meant Gohan, 17, and even I have had the opportunity to use his precious one. Neither 17 nor I have taken advantage of the chance, but I believe Gohan has. He values her so much that he has allowed her to keep her only son, Trunks."

"Trunks?" Krillin thought back. He couldn't remember having seen the lavender-haired youth at the court. "He has another son?"

"No. He is Vegeta's."

"Wait, if he loves her so much, why would he let Vegeta sleep with her?"

"Two reasons. One, as punishment to her for some simple thing that she refused to do. Secondly, as punishment to Vegeta, as a slap in the face to show him what he'd never have since he's too weak to claim anything of value. Although I imagine it was punishment of a different sort for him, should the rumors about his preferences ring true."

What was that supposed to mean? The short human didn't let that thought linger and instead let his mind grasp around another bit of information 18 had revealed. "Vegeta? Weak?"

"Oh, definitely. It's a running joke around here how Bulma, Lord Kakarrot's precious, lovely jewel, can only get pregnant by those that are as weak as earth bunnies, and then she'll reproduce just like that creature."

Krillin looked at her, his left eye twitching. This was definitely an alternate reality. He couldn't wait to get home, either. This 'Lady Chichi' wasn't the only one who was insane.

"Zarbon guards Mistress Bulma, and he is pretty much her lapdog, but even lapdogs have teeth. He will defend the blue-haired woman tooth and nail if you even step twenty feet too close," 18 warned. "But she occupies the upper level of the west wing, and as I said before, that is part of the palace you will not be going to visit."

"Of course," Krillin bowed his head in acceptance of that, knowing that he'd try to visit his old friend anyway. "So, what do you guys do around here for fun?"

"We kill slaves, traitors, and prisoners. The Ginyu Force is sometimes allowed to go purge a planet or three," 18 said breezily, honestly. "I have not had the opportunity to go off the planet in a long, long while, but that is because I am always by my master's side."

"I am surprised that you would allow yourself to be under someone else's rule," Krillin stated. "I would have thought you would prefer to be free."

"I am free," 18 said. "I can do whatever -- or whomever -- I want within certain limits. But even the freest person has limits. I do not mind mine."

"Sure," Krillin said turning his eyes ahead. 'Keep telling yourself that, 18, and maybe, one day, you'll believe it.'



Yamcha trailed a step behind Vegeta as the shorter male led him along the long passages towards his quarters. Along the way, Vegeta pointed out places and things of interest, things that were meant to impress Yamcha, but the scarred male only nodded his acknowledgement of the existence of these things. He kept his eyes anywhere but on his companion. Yamcha stole occasional glances at the other man but did not stare like he wanted. He just had a hard time believing he was walking around with Vegeta, even if he was an alternate version, though that was probably for the best. The Vegeta from his dimension never would've tolerated his presence this long nor at such a close proximity.

"Have I done something to offend you?" Vegeta suddenly asked.

"What? No! Huh?" he fumbled, confused. He turned to look then at the saiyajin and immediately remembered why he'd chosen to keep his eyes on their surroundings rather than the smaller male. "Whatever, uh, gave you that idea?"

"This is the first time you've actually acknowledged my presence since we left the court."

"I've been listening to you telling me about what I've been seeing," the taller man countered.

"Barely," Vegeta spat. "If my presence offends you so much, then stop making me pretend like I enjoy showing you around here."

"I want you here!" Yamcha came back, defensively. From the strange look on Vegeta's face, Yamcha realized what he'd just said. "You know, because, you're, uh, my guard and all."

"Did someone tell you? Did they tell you to choose me so that I would be... further humiliated?"

Where did this come from? What was wrong with this Vegeta? Humiliated? "No! I didn't know you would be...," the human trailed off. "I just... I wanted to spend time with you."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Yamcha smiled. "You're the prince of all Saiyajins!"

At this, Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?"

The scarred man bit his tongue a little, an expression of panic quickly slipping over his visage. "I, uh," he stumbled. "Uh, didn't they say it at the court?"

"No."

The human was given a reprieve from the awkward moment when another person came upon them in the corridor. Yamcha glanced over at the person then did a double take, automatically recognizing the tall, hugely muscled form of Nappa. He expected the large, bald man to stop and pay his respects to the prince, but the bigger saiyajin just walked past them, not even sparing a glance at the two smaller men. The human's eyebrows shot up in confusion, and when he turned to look back at Vegeta, a scowl familiar to the saiyajin's face was firmly planted there. The prince began to move down the hallways again, and he followed. But Yamcha's confusion was too great to keep him from commenting, "He didn't even look at you. You're his prince, sworn to protect and serve you, and he didn't even look at you!" He sighed deeply. "I don't understand, Vegeta. What the hell has happened here? You're all so different! I mean, why aren't you the emperor? You're the saiyajin prince, not Goku, er, Kakarrot."

The saiyajin pretended not to notice that Yamcha had recognized Nappa. He also pretended not to notice that he'd called Kakarrot 'Goku'. But he did. However, he thought that may be a question best reserved for a later time. "It is a long story."

"Please tell me, Vegeta," Yamcha pressed. He couldn't imagine the prince being anything other than the prince. His need to know grew.

Vegeta swallowed and then nodded a bit, as if deciding it would be better if he told this story rather than someone else. "I was already inconsequential to the original ruler, named Frieza, but slightly less ridiculed. My title had no meaning to anyone but myself and Nappa. But then Kakarrot came. The legendary Super Saiyajin. He defeated Frieza and took over everything. He never knew me, had no loyalty to me. But he knew he was far more powerful than I. He threw that in my face, and I knew I couldn't compete. I... surrendered. And now Nappa follows Kakarrot. They keep me here to control me." He looked pointedly at the human male. "But I am nothing more than a guard now. I am just a mere guard." The prince studied the other man for a moment. "I can't believe I just told you all of that."

"Well, I've been told I'm easy to talk to," Yamcha smiled, despite his conflicting emotions. This Vegeta had just caved in, given up. The human's heart went out to him. He never could've imagined that Vegeta would become devoid of the spirit to fight. "Say, um, how did G--Kakarrot become so... powerful?"

"He was sent to this planet as a child to 'clear' it of its natural inhabitants to be put on the market for Frieza. He gained power each time he fought, and he killed countless millions. He killed this planet's ruler, who lived in the tower where you were found, when he was an adolescent." Vegeta glanced down the hallway in either direction. After seeing no one else present, he continued. "The planet lost hope after that and allowed itself to be conquered. Kakarrot wiped out nearly the entire population of this world, save for some females he wished to use as breeders." The royal's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "He was so powerful. And his brother, Raditz, came here to recruit him for me, but Kakarrot would have none of it and killed his own brother. Then he came for Frieza." Vegeta got a far off look in his eyes for a moment. Yamcha began to wonder if he was going to finish the story, but then the saiyajin focused back in and continued. "He has been emperor ever since. I may be the prince, but like this planet, I too have lost hope. And I'm... too weak to do anything but accept it."

"You're so much better than that," Yamcha said. "You're strong, a survivor. When that bastard Frieza destroyed your planet, you never stopped trying to get out from under his thumb. You never gave up. I can't believe that Go--er, Kakarrot couldn't see that in you."

"How do you know all of this? About Frieza and my planet?" Vegeta queried.

"I, uh, I must've overheard it," Yamcha covered.

"No one speaks of it. Ever."

"I, uh, uh, I--," stammered the human.

Vegeta gripped the front of Yamcha's shirt and pulled him down to his eye level. "How do you know all this?!" The taller male squirmed in his grip, but not forcibly enough to remove himself. The panic was clear in Yamcha's eyes, and a bit of fear glimmered there. It was enough to shock the prince into letting him go. "Who are you? From where have you come?"

The human gulped. "I--Oh, man." Frowning, he quickly wondered what he could tell Vegeta to get out of this. He'd always been a good liar, even if he despised lying. On the other hand, he didn't want to lie to this Vegeta, not after everything he'd just told him. "Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere private. Somewhere nobody else can hear us."

The saiyajin prince appeared to be in thought for a moment, then replied, "Your quarters. I will take you there."

They walked down a few more hallways, then up a lift, and down another hall that curved around. At the end of the curve, Vegeta pressed a panel on the wall, and the metallic door slid open. The room inside was austere, decorated in solid white, from floor to ceiling, and contained nothing more than an armoire and a bed. Yamcha stepped into the room and seated himself on the bed while the saiyajin secured the door then came to stand in front of him, an expectant look on his face.

"Can you promise me that whatever I say will stay between us?" Yamcha asked. "You can't tell anybody."

"No one speaks to me," the smaller man stated plainly.

"Oh." Yamcha rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Piccolo, Krillin, and I... We are who we say we are. But we're not from here. Or, hell... Not any place in this dimension." He paused for a moment, gauging the prince's reaction to his words; mostly the scowl just deepened. "We accidentally dropped through some sort of magic mirror -- I don't really know a whole lot about that; you'd have to ask Piccolo. But anyway, we're from a different dimension or universe or whatever. All of you exist or existed in our dimension, just entirely different. You have the same faces, but you're completely unalike. Although I've noticed some facts have remained unchanged. That's how I know so much about you."

Vegeta looked as if he'd just swallowed a mouthful of cod liver oil. Yamcha grimaced as he saw the wheels turning in the Saiyajin's head, putting the pieces together. "You don't believe me."

"You know me?" Vegeta questioned. "We are friends?"

"Oh, um, no." Yamcha chuckled nervously. There were a million other questions Yamcha thought Vegeta would've rather asked than this. This was a surprise turn of questioning. "You -- you hate me. I'm a nobody to you. You think I'm stupid... and weak... and pathetic... and you're right." The human stood then and lifted up his shirt, revealing a set of complex scars, some from battle, others from accidents. Tracing one jagged scar that was as artistic as it was painfully obvious that it was intended, Yamcha said, "You gave me this... Jeeze, that was a long time ago."

Vegeta looked at the bared torso with a mix of awe and fright. He had never seen someone so badly scarred, yet still able to fight. But what was even more frightening was that he had supposedly done this, and he couldn't think of a valid enough reason to hurt the human. Not hurt him so badly that it would permanently ruin his otherwise magnificent body. "I--I did that?"

"Well, not you, but the other Vegeta, yeah." Yamcha moved to within a foot of the shorter male, dropping his shirt as he did so and tucking it back in. "Listen, I know you said that no one speaks to you, but you can't tell anyone about this. It's very important that you keep this information to yourself."

At this point, Vegeta took a half step forward, leaving only the tiniest of space between their bodies. He inhaled the other man's scent deeply, his heart hammering in his chest as he felt a small kernel of excitement budding. "And what will you give me for my silence?"

"What? You just said--," Yamcha started. Swallowing hard, he tried not to focus on the closeness of the saiyajin prince. "What do you want from me?"

"I will say nothing," he said, staring up into the human's eyes, "in exchange for your cooperation. Should I ever make any requests of you, you must oblige me." The discomfiture was apparent enough in Yamcha's eyes that he added, "I am not unreasonable. I will not make unreasonable requests." He did not know from where this boldness came, but at the same time, he didn't want to scare his charge. The human had shown him kindness and consideration, and he respected that. On the other hand, that wasn't going to prevent him from taking advantage of the situation. So rarely did he ever have an advantage. It wasn't going to escape him now.

"Okay," Yamcha nodded. "Okay. Is there anything you want now?"

"Piccolo. I want to know about him. Is he really as powerful as he pretends to be?" Vegeta asked, moving away from Yamcha to sit on the end of the bed.

"He's not pretending." He joined the smaller male in sitting on the bed but did not sit immediately next to him. "Piccolo is one of the most powerful people in my universe, and here," the human hesitated, "well, your universe isn't as powerful as mine. You guys don't exactly hide your power levels, and we can sense them. Piccolo could wipe the floor with anyone here, including Kakarrot."

"Is he truly that powerful? And you? Could you defeat Kakarrot?"

"Me? No, probably not. I may be able to hold my own against him, but I couldn't defeat him." Yamcha relaxed back a little on the bed, leaning onto one arm.

"Tell me more about your world," Vegeta said.

"Okay, well," Yamcha began. "It's a lot more peaceful, for one thing. We don't have a ruler, but every area has its own leaders and stuff."

"No. Tell me more about those of us you know here."

"Oh. Well. We don't have a Kakarrot, well, not exactly. His name is Goku in my world. He's one of the kindest, most positive people I've ever met, and he's one of my very best friends. He has the same two sons too. Most of the people I've seen here -- the Ginyu Force and all -- are dead." Yamcha halted briefly. "And there's you of course."

"Tell me."

"You're... kind of an asshole, no offense," he added. "Mean, rude, always striving to be the best. But you're very powerful."

"More powerful than Lord Kakarrot?"

Yamcha smiled. "In my world, you're more powerful than Piccolo."

At this, Vegeta looked pleased but still did not smile. Then he inquired, "Do I have a family? Am I still the prince?"

"Yes, you're still a prince, but you have no followers. I mean, you're still highly respected and all, but the only other saiyajin left in existence is Goku, and you kind of look down upon him. Actually, you look down upon everybody, even your wife and son."

"I have a wife?" Vegeta's face was all astonishment.

"Kind of. You and she fight a lot. And I'm not actually sure you ever got married, come to think of it." The human noticed a somewhat amused look on the saiyajin's visage. "Something funny?"

"Just... Never mind." Vegeta looked at Yamcha seriously. "Do you have a family? A... wife, perhaps?"

Yamcha blushed slightly. "No. I don't have anybody. There's someone for whom I care a lot, but... he doesn't care for me at all."

'He.' One of Vegeta's eyebrows had arched upwards, but he kept the thought to himself. He looked at the other male's reclining form on the bed, and wondered who could not want the human? He was fit, and capable, and claimed to be powerful. But maybe that was it. Maybe they did not want a powerful lover, or maybe they didn't believe he was powerful. Vegeta had to look away. Whoever it was that did not want Yamcha, they were a fool to the tenth degree. Vegeta began wondering if the green man was the one who Yamcha wanted and was not getting. If he was... Vegeta's tail tightened slightly in worried anxiety. It would just be his luck, too.

Yamcha wondered if his face was ever going to get back to its normal, non-flushed state. Noticing Vegeta's averted eyes, Yamcha thought that perhaps he was reflecting on how very different, and obviously more depressing this reality was to some of the other possibilities. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. "Don't you want to know about something else besides my non-existent love life? What else would you like to know, Vegeta?"

The small saiyajin slowly dragged his eyes up the human's form. He doubted the other man was aware of it, but it almost seemed as if he was posing. He looked so... inviting. And it would be so easy to just close the distance between them... But he couldn't allow himself to do that. The human was obviously in love with someone, likely that Piccolo, and it would do no good for Vegeta to piss him off. All kinds of doubt began cluttering his mind. Instead of asking about Piccolo, he formulated a different question in his head. "Fine. Why did you choose me as your guard?"

This was getting him nowhere. "You, um, seemed like a good choice, and... even though you don't like me, I've still always wanted to be friends with you." Yamcha averted his eyes and chewed a little on his tongue, a habit he'd picked up for whenever he got nervous.

"You mean the other Vegeta," he corrected. "The Vegeta from your dimension. He's the one that doesn't like you."

"Oh, um, yeah, basically." The human let his eyes rove over the other male and swallowed hard. He was so like the Vegeta from his world, but so dissimilar at the same time. Wasn't Vegeta supposed to be mean and cruel? This Vegeta was actually far more enticing. Suddenly, he wanted to be any place in the world other than next to Vegeta on a bed. Jumping up quickly, he put on a huge, fake grin. "Say, why don't you show me some more of this place? Maybe we can meet up with the others."

"As you wish... Yamcha." Vegeta filed out of the room with a relieved Yamcha following closely behind him.

He could feel Captain Ginyu's eyes on him, frightened and wary. It wasn't an unfamiliar look that Goten noticed when others saw him. In fact, that was the only look he saw on anyone's face when they viewed him or his family. Any time Goten went anywhere in the palace, the others kept their distance. All his life, they'd kept their distance, even his family. Only with them, it was a different kind of void. They ignored him unless it suited their purposes to include him. At this time, however, his father and Gohan were unaware of his presence in the room as they joked and laughed over Jeice's fighters. They acknowledged that Piccolo might be someone of interest, but the two humans, they rightly ignored. Goten thought that they were being somewhat premature in their assumptions, though.

Granted, Piccolo was... intriguing, but to dismiss his partners would be somewhat foolish. But only somewhat.

Krillin seemed aware. His choice of 18 was probably based on his hope to sleep with the lovely android, and he wouldn't be the first. He probably wouldn't be the last either. Goten's mind raced as he calculated whether or not to try and watch the 'ex-monk' as he claimed to be. Finally, he rejected the idea. He would let 18 watch over the short man; she'd be able to take care of him if he tried anything.

Goten's tail loosened and then re-wrapped around his waist. His thoughts turned to Yamcha. The scarred human seemed fairly competent with speech, but shy. Goten shelved him as weak, just from the 'feel' of him. He radiated 'prey' vibes. One might assume that Yamcha would bear more careful watching, seemingly the most likely to be targeted by others for sport or otherwise. The human was bait, he just had to be. Well, Goten wasn't about to fall into that trap. No, he'd observe the biggest threat.

With a cold, intimidating smile, he grinned at Ginyu before he slipped out. Not that it mattered that he tried to be stealthy. His father and brother couldn't care less about him. As he entered the large hallway, he pulled up short. Where would Piccolo be by now? Goten thought on this and then struck upon a brainstorm.

He wasn't the only one in the palace who lived to observe others, to find out answers. There was probably only one other person that was as knowledgeable as he was. That was the Palace Ghost. It was time to go find answers, and Goten grinned, hoping he would have to beat it out of the informant.