Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ransom Due ❯ Homecoming ( Chapter 2 )

 

Ransom Due - Chapter 2 - Homecoming (or - A Sprinkling of Stockholm Syndrome)

 

Kuririn was relaxing on the small beach outside of Kame House. The afternoon sun had shifted so that his beach chair was in the shadows of the eaves of the small pink dwelling. It was the best time for him to laze about outside in that the shade would prevent him from ending up with sunburn on his scalp. Half asleep, he heard the splashdown, but he was engulfed by a sizable wave before he was alert enough to investigate. He squinted towards the horizon and saw what looked like a rather large, round buoy bobbing several hundred yards out in the wake caused by its impact with the water. He hurriedly squeezed seawater out of his gi.

 

“Muten Roshi!” he yelled, “You'd better come out here and take a look at this.”

 

When he got no response he ran in the house and proceeded to shake the sleeping sensei out of his no doubt lascivious dreams. Girlie magazines went sliding off the old man's chest and all over the floor as he sat up groggily. He adjusted his sunglasses and snorted a stray bead of snot back up into his nose.

 

“Wha-what is it Kuririn?”

 

“Something just crashed into the ocean right off shore. It looks pretty big, too.” Kuririn hopped from foot to foot as he attempted to describe the unidentified object. “It looks almost like something that would come out of one of Bulma's capsules, but it's still too far off shore for me to tell. It just dropped out of the sky…”

 

“Settle down, Kuririn. We haven't seen anything too terribly earth shattering out this way in several years. Please tell me that what you saw isn't another pleasure cruiser that turns out to be full of speedo-clad guys like last time you woke me up to go and see something that floated in on the currents.”

 

They both wandered back out to the beach. The resident turtle was already at the shoreline to investigate.

 

“Hey, Kuririn,” it said. “Why don't you fly on out there and see what that thing is.”

 

“Well, alright… as long as you guys cover me…”

 

It only took a moment for Kuririn to reach the thing. Upon closer inspection he could see that it was made of some kind of metal alloy, and completely spherical. A small porthole slid into his view as it rolled over in some waves. He carefully edged closer to the thing, and then got up enough courage to wipe away water obscuring his view through the rubylith glass. He could have sworn his jaw dropped open enough for his chin to hit the water when he was able to make out what was inside.

 

“Holy crap! It can't be! She disappeared years ago!” he exclaimed to no one in particular. Inside the odd looking craft was a dark haired young woman he was familiar with. She was curled up in a fetal position on what appeared to be the craft's only seat, apparently asleep. He immediately maneuvered the craft towards the shore and the apprehensive pair waiting there.

 

Once they had the metal sphere safely on the sand, they had to figure out how they would open it. They tried prying what looked like the door open. They smashed at the window that turned out to be stronger than any glass they'd ever seen. They yelled at the woman inside to try and wake her, but it appeared that the as yet unbreakable seal on the door shut out their calls. Kuririn finally decided that it would be worth the risk to use a low powered kienzan on the metal shell, but it just bounced off harmlessly, leaving little more than a divot in the chrome like surface of the craft. It did, however, unseat the large sphere from the sand dugout they'd improvised to hold the thing steady while they worked on opening it. It rolled down the small beach and back into the now gentle surf. This must have rattled the contents enough to wake the occupant finally. They were able to discern what was now a blonde head momentarily pop up in the porthole.

 

“Suuuure,” drawled Muten Roshi in a poor imitation of Kuririn's voice. “I'll just try a little kienzan on it…” He smirked at the short man before flying into a tirade. “NOW IF WE DO GET THAT THING OPEN SHE'LL SHOOT US ALL TO HELL! Let's just let it float out there a while and check later to see if she's sneezed yet…”

 

He was interrupted by a loud bang that sounded like a car wreck. Lunch appeared through the now smoking aperture of the craft and hopped out into the waist high water. She had a very strange looking weapon slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing only a tight fitting black bodysuit with what could only be described as armor covering her chest and shoulders. Stranger still, she had some kind of device that fitted over one ear and had an attached lens that covered only one eye. To Kuririn it looked for all the world like some strange amalgamation of half a headphone and half a pair of sunglasses. She cocked her head over to the side the device was on and touched the part over her ear. Then she turned to face Kuririn and repeated the gesture, sighing heavily.

 

“Not a chance,” she said under her breath. “OK, Cueball,” she barked at Kuririn.” “Push this thing back over to land and get the Briefs kid out here to fix that airlock… fucking IVR locks, they never seem to work right.”

 

Kuririn momentarily floated and stared at her, vaguely aware that his jaw was hanging open again.

 

“Nice to see you, too, Lunch,” he said sarcastically, thinking better of it as her hand moved toward the weapon she carried. Fortunately she was just readjusting the strap that supported it. It was a large weapon and seemed rather awkward in contrast to her small frame.

 

“Aw, screw it. I'll do it myself! I actually forgot what total losers you guys can be.”

She waded around so that she could push the craft towards shore, but water had started filling the interior through the open hatch. Kuririn was sure that it would be too heavy for her to handle, so he went around to help her push.

 

“Where have you been all this time,” he asked. His attempt at small talk was rebuffed. She paused and rolled her eyes at him and went back to pushing on the space pod.

 

When they got back to the shore, Kuririn rolled the pod over so that some of the water would drain and then shimmied it back into the improvised dugout. Lunch leaned into the open door to look over the now sopping interior. She was checking the few visible electronic panels and gauges which all seemed to be unaffected by the moisture. Only the mechanism that apparently worked the door was broken, and occasionally a spark or two would jump from the small keypad on the outside that Kuririn hadn't noticed previously.

 

As she was leaning over, Kame Sen'nin got a full view of her rear end, which was wrapped neatly in the wet, skintight bodysuit. He couldn't help himself and reached out to squeeze it. Before his hand got within an inch of her she swung around to face him and simultaneously unhitched the weapon from her back.

 

“Back off Old Man!” she yelled as she smashed right into the sensei's nose with the substantial butt of the gun. He went flying back and landed in the sand on his own rump several feet away, blood spurting from his nose.

 

She turned back to face Kuririn. “Look, there's a lot… no, that's too much of an understatement… just… if you guys want to stay alive, you'll do exactly what I tell you and not waste time with questions. I need Bulma over here pronto to get that pod door to lock properly, and you probably want to get Goku out here as well.” She paused and tapped on the strange headpiece again and said to no one in particular, “I estimate we've got three months… two weeks more tops if he decides to wait for the moon… and Kami help us if he does…” She looked over the three stunned faces with disdain. “Well? Get moving! I'm going to grab a bite; I've been in stasis for way too long. Yell at me when Bulma and Goku get here.” With that she marched into the small house.

 

Muten Roshi, despite his frazzled state watched her retreating backside. He finally composed himself and managed to stop the blood flow from his nose. He pinched his nostrils together gingerly and gave Kuririn and the turtle a sideways glance. “Either I'm getting terribly old or that girl's a lot stronger than she was before she left us.”

 

 

After making a couple of hasty calls to Bulma and Goku, Kuririn made an extra call to Tenshinhan. He found it odd that Lunch hadn't even mentioned Ten. After all, she'd originally left Kame House to follow Ten. It was Tenshinhan who had first discovered that Lunch seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Maybe the two hadn't parted on good terms, but Ten hadn't revealed anything in their short conversation. In fact, he seemed relieved and happy that they'd found Lunch. He considered this as he wandered into the tiny kitchen and found Lunch poking around in the refrigerator. She already had one arm overloaded with various and sundry meats and cheeses and her mouth stuffed with a large chunk of bread as she continued rummaging.

 

“You know,” he said softly, “we were really worried about you. After so long we wondered if you had left us for good.”

 

“Mmmm-hmmm” she mumbled as she was scarfing the last bits of the large sandwich she'd made. They were interrupted by the whirr of rotor blades as Bulma landed her capsule copter outside. Lunch quickly put together another sandwich and motioned for Kuririn to follow her out to meet the young woman.

 

Bulma was already practically swarming over the space pod. Her examination was peppered with exclamations over the obviously advanced technology. Lunch walked right up behind her, dropped the sandwich, grabbed her shoulder spun her around.

 

“Don't touch anything until I explain what's what.” She was back to barking orders.

 

“Oh, hi Lunch.” Bulma smiled despite the other woman's sour demeanor. “Looks like you've had quite a hiatus while the rest of us just got to hang around on this boring old rock. I've always dreamed about space travel! Give me all the juicy details and we'll be mass-producing these babies in capsules before you know it!” She was so excited about the space pod she didn't seem to notice the angry scowl that began to cross Lunch's face. “Of course the corporation will agree to giving you a handsome royalty for providing us with the original prototype…”

 

“No,” said Lunch in a menacingly even tone. “You missed that chance three years ago. I was going to sell you a pod just like this one, but because those damn IVR locks are so freakin' dicey, once I got into the thing, I couldn't get out. Then I must've hit the WRONG button because the next thing I knew I was waking up in the middle of Kami knows where out in space. Choking to death because the oxygen had run out. And, no, it wasn't fun. Just fix the damn door. I'd ask you to jury rig the thing so it would work better than the original design, but we really don't have the luxury of that kind of time here.” She then pointed to a small switch on the unassuming console inside the pod. “DO NOT touch that. That switch will activate a homing beacon. The last thing I want is for the guy following me out here to know our exact location. I'm at least relatively sure the first thing he'll be looking for is the highest power signature he can pick up on, which means Goku…”

 

“Hold on a minute,” Bulma cut in. He smile had frozen at Lunch's denial to her `claim' on the space pod, and had drooped into a considerable frown by this time. “What do you mean, `we?' This craft is obviously built for only one. Whatever your plan is for this thing, I can tell you don't intend to be letting us in on the punch line. So who's this guy and why's he following you?” Her lips began to turn up slightly into a smug grin. “Lunch, have you been out in space breaking hearts?” she chided and nudged the blonde with her elbow.

 

She quickly found herself with an up close and personal view of the barrel of Lunch's new gun.

 

“Shut up. Now.” The blonde looked like she was about to explode more forcefully than anything the weapon could produce.

 

After cringing in fear momentarily, Bulma squinted and peered into the barrel. “Hmmm, no rifling in there. That's neat. So that thing doesn't shoot bullets. What is it? Lasers? Flame thrower?”

 

Lunch sighed heavily and threw her arms up in exasperation. She pointed at the pod with her weapon. “Space pod. Door. FIX.” She turned the gun back on Bulma, who immediately cringed again. “Or shall I simply find another technician?”

 

“Ooookay. I guess I'll be taking a look at that door mechanism now,” said Bulma as she backed away from the gun brandishing woman.

 

Kuririn could tell the scene was getting tense. He looked over at Muten Roshi and marveled at the fact that the old man was still ogling over the prospect of a real life catfight starting right outside his front door.

 

Muten Roshi noticed Kuririn looking at him and winked. “Hey, too bad Oolong took off to the city for the day, I bet he'd really get a kick out of this. We got any jello in the cupboard?” he whispered. “Maybe enough to make several gallons?”

 

“I don't think so,” Kuririn whispered back. “If we're looking for something useful in the kitchen, how about concentrating on finding some pepper before we're all the victims of a mass shooting?”

 

The tension suddenly was broken by the arrival of Goku. He hopped off the hovering mass that was Kinto'un, grinning widely, oblivious that the situation was not the friendliest in the world.

 

“Hey, wow Lunch, you look really good for a crash victim,” he said as he waved at the blonde. “The way Kuririn talked on the phone, I thought you were in trouble.”

 

Amazingly, Lunch returned his grin. “Hello Goku. Recognize anything?” she asked as she stepped aside to give him a full view of the space pod.

 

“You didn't think I'd forget you after only a couple of years, did you?” he asked, a slight look of confusion crossing his features. “Like I said, you look great. Kuririn told me you crashed, so I thought you might be hurt. I even brought a senzu bean in case you needed it.”

 

“Well, take my advice, horde up as many of those beans as you can. You're going to need them,” she said. “When I ask if you recognize anything, I'm talking about that space pod over there. Look familiar?”

 

He looked past her at the pod and appeared to be thinking intently. After about a minute he said, “No, that's the first time I've ever seen anything like that before. Did you really come from outer space in that thing?”

 

She ignored his question and proceeded. “Ever hear of a guy called Kakarott?”

 

“No. What kind of a silly name is Kakarott, anyway?”

 

“Never mind.” She looked at Goku, tapped on the earpiece of the scouter again and frowned slightly. “The important thing is that the guy who's gonna land here in a couple of months is at least ten times stronger than you are now, Goku. That is, accounting for the assumption that I'd get a much larger reading if you were powered up to full strength.” She turned to Kuririn. “I don't see that you've got a chance in Hell of surviving this, cueball,” she said sadly. “I'm not even sure Goku can handle it… and if our visitor shows on a full moon, he'll be ten times stronger still.”

 

“We'll just train until this guy shows and then hit him together. It sounds like you're predicting one heck of a fight. You didn't think that we'd just give up?” asked Goku. “Besides, I'm a little more than curious about what a guy so strong has got to dish out,” he said optimistically. “It's actually kind of exciting. Why does the full moon make him stronger, anyway?”

 

“Because on a full moon…” Lunch paused recognizing the look of connections rapidly being made crossing Bulma's features and decided maybe she had better not go into a description of the Ozaru transformation. Besides, that would only lead to more questions ultimately ending with the divulgence that it was Goku's own brother that intended to destroy them all. Knowing Goku, he'd give pause to outright killing his own brother, and Lunch knew he was going to have to be ruthless if he was even going to have a chance. “Hopefully we won't have to worry about all that. Just remember this is going to make your fight with Ma Junior look like a schoolyard spat.” She finished, and then abruptly returned to the house.

 

It wasn't long before Bulma followed her. She was back in the kitchen, this time guzzling water one glass after another. Bulma gave her a questioning glance.

 

“Stasis. Seems to drain all the moisture out of you…” She explained.

 

“Um,” Bulma wasn't quite sure where to even begin. “I gather from what you're describing that we're to expect a guy with a monkey tail to show up here in three months, right? Meaning that Goku, who used to have a monkey tail and turn into a large, disgruntled ape at a full moon, is actually an alien?”

 

“Yup,” Lunch replied between gulps of water, “that about sums it up.”

 

“So what are you planning to do with the spaceship? Ride off into the sunset while everybody else gets clobbered?”

 

“Well, at least one of us should survive and it IS my ship.”

 

“What? By the rules of grand theft UFO? If you want me to fix that thing, fine, but I'm getting my dad out here to take a look at it. Maybe he can at least put together a larger working prototype in time…”

 

Noticing the suddenly sullen look on Lunch's face, she trailed off. “You don't think any of us are gonna make it, do you?”

 

Lunch turned away from her and pretended to stare out of the small kitchen window. Bulma, finally at a loss for words, went to contact her father and get back to the space pod.

 

It wasn't long before both Bulma and Dr. Briefs were completely absorbed in the space pod. Lunch took the opportunity and tiptoed out to the copter Bulma had neglected to return to its capsule. She was at optimum altitude before Bulma noticed the copter speeding off towards the west.

 

Not long after that the phone started ringing. Kuririn answered it. Ten was on the other end of the line. “When you said Lunch had come back, you weren't kidding. Back with a vengeance is more like it.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” said Kuririn. “Maybe you'd better start thinking about some hard training. She says we're about to get a close encounter that is not going to be of the friendly sort.”

 

“Oh really? Have you seen the news? Turn on the TV.”

 

“Ok. Hang on.” Kuririn switched on the small TV and tuned it to the news channel. A reporter was standing in front of a pile of smoking rubble identified as the Museum of Antiquities in the Western capital. He was describing the scene of destruction, theft, and carnage perpetrated by an unknown female assailant.

 

Kuririn got back on the phone. “Oi. Vengance. You can say that again.”

 

“No, unfortunately the next words out of my mouth were going to be somewhere along the lines of `bloodbath.' What's gotten into her, Kuririn? She used to occasionally go off all half cocked, but this is well over the top.”

 

“I'm still not sure, Ten. I guess three years in space can drive a person a little batty - especially if they had, well, you know, problems, to start out with.” Kuririn found himself shrugging heavily as he spoke.

 

“Well, listen. Chao-tzu says I already know where to find her. Maybe if I go and talk to her we can get a handle on all of this before more people get hurt.”

 

“I don't envy you having to run damage control on this. When you figure out what's going on, meet me and Goku back here at Kame House. We're going to have to be more than diligent if we're going to be ready for the fight Lunch talked about.”

 

“I'll be there.” Tenshinhan hung up the pay phone and looked back over his shoulder at Chao-tsu. “You'd better let me take care of this alone,” he told the small emperor.

 

“Don't forget,” Chao-tsu held up a small bouquet of flowers, “these might make this easier.”

 

“As I recall, I don't have anything to apologize for…” Ten started. Chao-tsu winked and pointed at the sorry looking bouquet. Ten looked a little closer at the flowers and recognized them as ragweed. “OK, then here goes,” he said as he crossed the street to the hole in the wall on the wrong side of the West capital that Lunch liked to think of as a bar.

 

--

 

She was staring at the empty shot glass, trying to keep from thinking about the leather bag on the stool next to hers. She decided that one more quick peek would satisfy the impending feeling of dread that hung over her. She opened the bag just enough to let a feeble bit of light fall on the contents. Piccolo Daimao's hateful, wrinkled face, exquisitely carved in jade, stared back at her from the interior of the bag. She shuddered and quickly shut the bag again, reminding herself that it was indeed only a statue, and that she had lasted much longer in her recent lot in life than the Demon King himself might have.

 

She held up a finger as the bartender went past, indicating her need for a refill. Ten year old scotch. She thought to herself how ironic it was that she had spent the past three years believing she would do almost anything for just a nip of the stuff, and now it just didn't seem to taste so good.

 

The bartender refilled her empty glass, and then the most curious thing happened. When Lunch got a clear view of the mirrored wall behind the bar, there was a young, dark haired woman looking back at her from the seat the leather bag was sitting in. Lunch blinked, looked at the bag, then back at the mirror. The young woman was still there.

 

“And I bet you'd about kill for an Arlian ale right about now, huh?” Sneered the dark haired woman from the other side of the mirror. “But you had to go and stir everything up.”

 

Lunch blinked again, looked down at the bag on the stool, looked at the empty shot glass, made eye contact with the bartender and held up her hand to indicate that she was ready for her tab, and only then looked back up at the mirror. The dark haired woman grinned. “And, just think, all these people would have another full year to live, none the wiser. But, no. You had to bring it all crashing down around their heads just so you could put another notch in your belt. What you were offered wasn't so very bad was it? ”

 

“He'd have killed you,” Lunch quietly hissed back at the image in the mirror while she picked up the paper tab from the bar.

 

“No thanks to you,” the voice went on, even as Lunch looked down to retrieve some money out of her pocket. “You could have lived well on the scraps of a trader's salary, but you're just to good for all of that, aren't you?”

 

“I'll be no one's slave, least of all yours,” she growled under her breath as her gaze went back up to the mirror. She started as she was confronted by a different reflection staring back at her.

 

“Ten!” she gasped as he handed her the forlorn looking flowers. “I swear I was going to drop a line or something to you, I just ha…ha... aaaa…choo!”