Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ransom Due ❯ Mr. Satan Come Out and Plaaay... ( Chapter 13 )

AN: Many thanks to my beta EleneK for finding commas and discrepancies for me to fix.

 

This chapter touches on the Mafu-ba technique, which is what Roshi's master Mutaito used to imprison Piccolo Daimao into a rice cooker. In Dragon Ball, Roshi dies attempting to imprison Piccolo Daimao again with the technique. At the 23rd Boudaki, Kami attempts to defeat Piccolo Jr. with the same technique, but Piccolo reflects the technique back at him, landing Kami in the small bottle intended as a prison for Piccolo. Piccolo then swallows the bottle…. And if you haven't you should read the rest in the manga as it's Goku and Piccolo's first fight.

An omamori is a Japanese good luck charm.

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Ransom Due - Chapter 13 - Mr. Satan Come out and Plaaaaaay… Or not.

 

Kushami took her time in waking. She rolled under the covers for several minutes before throwing them off and heading for the bathroom. The thought crossed her mind that the simple futon was the most comfortable surface she'd slept on in well over three years running, but the observation felt inconsequential. After a good night of dreamless sleep the surreal restlessness that plagued her the day before appeared to have dissipated almost completely. She sauntered down to the first floor. Sunlight streamed in through every window in Kame House, confirming her confidence.

 

She studied her reflection in the tiny mirror over the bathroom sink. She certainly looked completely refreshed; back to her old self for sure, despite a horrible case of bed head. She went about her usual morning routine, each step a minuscule victory over the harrowing incidents she'd witnessed in the public washroom of Misionary's barracks.

 

But you never really had to worry about that, did you? They knew better than to mess with Master.

 

No. They knew better than to mess with ME.

 

She caught herself acknowledging the voice and took a deep breath, determined to start again. If she played her cards right, before she got to the kitchen she'd be near believing the argument she and Ten had gotten into three plus years ago had never happened. It would almost be like she'd never even left.

 

As she exited the bathroom she avoided looking at the mirror again, stiffly telling herself it was because she didn't have a comb to fix the virtual rat's nest that her hair had turned into overnight. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the possibility of seeing the disgustingly adorable face the voice belonged to in the reflection.

 

Ten waited for her in the kitchen. He sat at the small table there, stoically sipping at a cup of tea. The warm light bathed him, accentuating the rippling muscles of his arms freely exposed by the sleeveless t-shirt he wore. He didn't notice her immediately, at least he didn't show it if he did, which was fine with her because it gave her an extra moment to look him over a second and third time. He took another deliberate sip of tea before drawing his attention away from the simple cup.

 

“Are you well?” he asked matter-of-factly.

 

“Yeah. As good as I'll ever be, I guess.” She subconsciously reached back in an attempt to smooth out the tangled hair. Something struck her as out of place, but she wasn't sure exactly what. Oh, well. She let her eyes wander over him again before turning to search the cupboards for something quick she could call breakfast.

 

“That is good to hear. We were beginning to worry.”

 

“Heh. No need for worry.” She rummaged to the back of a small corner cupboard where she knew Roshi sometimes hid cookies from the rest of his “guests.” Jackpot. Macaroons. She set to devouring the Turtle Master's meager stash with one hand as she poured herself a cup of tea with the other. The thing that didn't seem right suddenly came to her attention. “Where's Chaozu?”

 

“He went back to our capsule house yesterday to get it ready for transport…”

 

“Huh? Yesterday?” She nearly let the teacup she was filling overflow.

 

“Yes. He said he was sure you weren't ill and that we should just let you rest. However, I would have attempted to wake you if you had not risen by this afternoon. I couldn't imagine that you would need a full three days rest if there was not something wrong.”

 

“Three?... Three days?” The reality of the past three years threatened to come crashing back into the forefront of her consciousness all at once. She kept it at bay by quickly running a series of possible timelines through her mind. When she'd arrived she'd taken a stab at three months lag just taking into consideration the older pods were supposed to be somewhat slower than the newer models. Kakarott's… Goku's (cripes, she couldn't believe she had to correct herself on that account!) pod was definitely a jalopy in terms of its state of repair. If they were lucky, the damn thing would break down in transit and Raditzu would never reach Chikyuu. Her lips curled into a malicious grin as she imagined her sometime “master” uncomfortably cramped in the vehicle, gasping for nonexistent air.

 

But, damn it all, if luck had anything to do with it, the bastard would have died as planned in the explosions that ripped Missionary apart.

 

^^^^

 

As Ten watched the blonde woman shove cookies into her mouth, one after the other, he wondered if he should even consider, much less attempt Chaozu's plan for helping her. Split form required not only the physical stamina of a trained martial artist, but an extremely focused mind. Lunch, in his estimation, possessed neither. Well, maybe the part of her that had identified herself as Kushami had something akin to mental focus. She'd certainly put nothing short of a singular effort into her attempts to win his affections. It had not appeared more than a childish crush at the outset, but over time it became more like what a wild animal would do having caught the scent of fresh blood or, he winced inwardly at the thought, pheromone musk.

 

He wondered yet again at the proposal of teaching her such a feat when he told her the duration she'd slept. Her features changed rapidly from disconsolate confusion to something he wasn't sure he could accurately describe if he wanted to. He only knew that although she'd never given him that particular look, it was still disturbingly familiar. Clearly, she sensed prey.

 

She downed the cup of tea she'd poured herself, features again changing, suddenly all business.

 

"Well, I'll just grab my bag and we can get going." She swept past him, close enough to lightly brush his shoulder, before he could ask any questions. It appeared she had either forgotten or chosen not to acknowledge the discord that had risen between them in the time before her disappearance.

 

He really did feel somewhat responsible for what had happened, if only because of his own weakness. They'd have had nothing to argue about if he hadn't finally given in to her advances. At first, he'd balked at her brash forwardness, though not because he didn't have reciprocal feelings for her. Certainly he considered her a beautiful woman, and he saw qualities in both personalities which attracted him, Kushami's unwavering commitment not the least of them. He'd just always known that his training had to come first, only singular dedication would allow him to command and retain the kind of strength and skill necessary to defend against the ever present danger of Piccolo Jr., never mind that he wasn't a man without pride. He fully intended to reclaim his title as Strongest under the Heavens. To do that, he'd have to beat Son Goku, which had been nearly a monumental task before the boy had not only trained with Kami himself, but nearly crushed Piccolo, the god's equivalent if not better in strength.

 

Kushami's sporadic appearances at he and Chaozu's training grounds became a distraction he knew he'd rather do without. Eventually he took into consideration that perhaps fate had decided to plague him with what undoubtedly was an unavoidable temptation of the flesh as some kind of test. It only gave him resolve to train harder, deny himself pleasure of any kind. His day to day life gradually became more and more ascetic.

 

Eventually, even Chaozu began to lament the austere conditions that pervaded every facet of their lives. In the end, the invitation extended to Lunch to stay had come from Chaozu, and she (the blonde personality, anyway, though he believed he'd read similar signals from the other as well) made no attempt to hide a certain amount of amusement at the fact that even his “midget sidekick” could see the obvious whereas he could not. He woke one morning to find Ranchi in his kitchen, preparing what he could only think of as a gluttonous feast. Being informed that Chouzu had suggested the routine be permanent, he'd immediately confronted his friend in a frenzied state, only to be rebuffed by an attitude of complete indifference that permeated even the mental rapport they shared. The feelings of confusion and anger that resulted were only compounded by the ongoing game of cat-and-mouse seemingly forced on him by the presence of Lunch, who'd taken on the blonde personality more often than not.

 

In this manner, tensions continued to rise for several days, with training sessions becoming a battle of wills wherein he began to devise ways of perhaps beating an explanation out of his cohort. His feelings of frustration and resentment quickly made any semblance of concentration, and training itself an exercise in futility.

 

Finally, one night Kushami cornered him outside his bedroom door, insistent on discussing his reasons for what she saw as his blatant rejection of her. She accused him of finding her completely unappealing, which was of course exactly the opposite of how he felt, and demanded to know why. Her insistence struck him as perhaps all the more sincere due to the fact the she'd broached the subject without the use of any sort of firearm. After stumbling over several attempts to verbalize his feelings, he simply gave up and let her back him into the privacy of his bedroom, at which point all the strain of the past few months came to a head. Literally.

 

That night he'd let go of any sense of restraint he'd ever had and, from what he could tell, she did also, if in fact she'd ever had any. Their night long tryst spiraled from the reckless abandon of crazed beasts at the beginning to the easy, sensual pace of familiar lovers by the time exhaustion threatened to overtake the both of them. By the end of it all he was certain he'd cut loose every inhibition he'd had since giving up his aspirations of becoming an assassin and perhaps then some. As daylight began seeping through the windows, he drifted on the edge of unconsciousness thinking that in the space of several hours he'd gone back to being a bad, bad man. He assessed, by the slight smile still pasted on his sleeping paramour's face, that she was not displeased with the transformation.

 

From that point forward, Chaozu returned to his amicable self, the only mention of the friction of the previous weeks being a short mental commentary on dialectic balance, which made perfect sense to Ten. He felt more like himself after acquiescing to his obvious carnal needs by night, and his ability to focus by day on every noble intention he sought to fulfill through mastery of the martial arts resulted in an improved progress in training he would not have thought possible before.

 

As his progress with training accelerated, so did activities in the bedroom. To his surprise, several of the nightly sessions occurred in the company of Lunch's dark-haired personality, who made no dissent to what had become his routine advances, and in fact, participated in their couplings with apparent gusto. At one point he ventured to ask her about this as he had assumed that the blonde personality had more interest in him, in that respect anyway. She had only replied that she enjoyed sex as much as the next person, and that she certainly liked him well enough, adding, albeit indirectly, that she could easily take the role of protesting victim if he so desired. The truly bizarre nature of his relationship with Lunch became obvious once that particular response sank in. He realized the thought of forcing an unwilling lover to do his bidding was disturbingly attractive to him, and he did not wish to venture into such territory. As it was, a willing mate made for enough of a distraction. He should have trusted his better judgment and put a halt to the whole affair right then, but he'd slogged in too deep to do any such thing. He didn't spend the night with the Ranchi personality again, however. She voiced no complaint to this change in the routine, so he decided he'd made the right choice.

 

After that, things took another turn for the strange. He spent less time with the Ranchi personality at night, and the overall time he spent with either diminished as he used every available daylight hour for training. His nighttime meetings with Kushami changed somewhat in that they spent more time just talking with one another than on physical gratification. She began asking him questions pertaining to hypothetical situations which began to remind him more and more of his prior mental training sessions with the Crane Master's brother. He found himself giving answers and deliberating over things he'd previously pledged not to pursue. Some of these were clearly tactically based, concerning forced entry to guarded buildings and the like. Some others, such as the decision on how long to hold a hostage before ultimately ending their life, if that were the plan, disturbed him more by his own ready answers than by the questions themselves.

 

Eventually, she appeared at his bedroom door one night carrying a satchel. After a liberal amount of heated lovemaking, she revealed the contents. She'd collected a wealth of information on a rich man who styled himself as a master martial artist. Speculation was that he'd stashed enough zeni to live like a king for many lifetimes in his own home out of a distrust of bankers. His mansion was located in a growing city on the eastern part of the continent, north of Mount Paozu. Even better, she'd gushed, the man's mistress had just recently announced that she was pregnant, a perfect hostage should they need one to secure the loot. Every bit of the plan had been put together and poured over with attention to even the slightest detail. His own involvement no small part of it. “We'd be unstoppable!” she'd exclaimed after divulging her intentions.

 

“I will think on it,” had been his simple reply, even as he knew he shouldn't be considering taking part in such a thing. He had no time for it with his training, if for no other reason. Still, he wound up making the decision to take his training on the road, and travel progressed in an easterly direction. The three of them weren't very far from Mount Paozu when Chaozu confronted him.

 

“You're really considering this?” his trusted companion had asked, disappointment clearly etched on his white face.

 

“And what of it?” he retorted sharply without thinking. “It was your decision to invite Kushami to join us. Or have you forgotten?”

 

“I invited Ranchi to join us,” Chaozu replied quietly, “or have you forgotten?... But it was a mistake, and I'm sorry for it now.”

 

“I have not committed to anything.”

 

“But you have thought about it. I don't believe you would interrupt our training to do this. I know you have increased time in meditation to keep temptation, however small, at bay. Still, we travel east to appease Kushami.”

 

He saw the truth in this statement, yet could not resist stealing a glance over at Kushami, who sat on the grass not far away, diligently swabbing out the barrel of one of her rifles.

 

“Should your resolve begin to wane,” Chou-tzu continued, “think on this. The man she seeks to rob is very proud, and puts on a good show. He would not want to be publicly shamed by the loss of his money. I have the feeling he is a coward, but would allow his mistress to be taken hostage if only to make a public show of `saving' her. This would end in disaster. Would you kill not one, but two innocents after all this time? If you do this, Crane Master and Tao Pai Pai will win a victory to surpass any they would have had in killing you at Tenka'ichi Budokai.”

 

“In this, as in many things, you are correct.” He'd felt himself shamed at the admission, knowing that, although he'd never intended to go through with the heist, he had let his desire to make an impression on Kushami that fit her view of him, cloud his better judgment. He realized then that in giving in to her that very first night, he'd allowed himself a little more leeway each day in forgoing his personal mission, and saying no to her had only become harder and harder as time went on.

 

“And you must tell her `no', now. The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

 

“Yes.” He nodded sharply affirm his decision, drew himself up, and went to deny her.

 

He'd never really called her a petty thief, just explained his disinterest in petty thievery. She'd taken his words personally, and when he tried another tact, explaining that he was concerned for her well being also, she'd only taken more offense, accusing him of treating her like a child and talking down to her. She'd stormed off, but he'd assumed she'd eventually return as she had in the beginning so many times.

 

After a month, he began to worry. After two, he fell into the habit of stopping in at police stations whenever they trained near a town or city, in the hopes of finding some news of her. After a year, he'd checked the paper one day and saw that even the police had let her rank drop on the most wanted list. The continent's most eminent detective had even been quoted in regards to this that she appeared to have pulled the most thorough disappearing act ever, if she hadn't been killed somewhere along the line. Six months after that, he'd found himself at Uranai Baba's door, demanding the chance to defeat her champions so that he could know if Lunch was at least still alive.

 

The witch had rolled her eyes, complaining that her champions were hardly a challenge for the likes of him anymore. “And I suppose you're too poor to pay my fee as well,” she sourly griped. “I don't work for free, you know, but I can tell you this, she is no longer on this world.”

 

“So she is dead?” Despair threatened to creep up on him.

 

The witch had cackled in the face of his trepidation. “I didn't say that, but take it as you will,” she quipped as she dismissed him.

 

***

 

He looked over at the very much alive, however changed Lunch, as she piloted the air car. He'd let her drive back to west city as only she knew their ultimate destination. Before he proceeded in attempting any sort of training with her, he needed to know more about what had transpired in her absence. He sensed a difference in her, something almost malevolent just under the surface which pervaded both personalities. Chaozu's assertions that the two personalities had become more entwined with each other appeared to be correct and he had the feeling that this change somehow had let something darker in her begin to surface. He couldn't be sure split form would wrench the two back into separation, if she could even possibly achieve it let alone sustain it.

 

Her brusque demeanor hadn't abated any, and she brought the aircar to a bumpy landing in a vacant lot in the heart of West City's urban sprawl. She encapsulated the car and jerked her head towards a ragged hole in the fence surrounding the lot, indicating that he should follow.

 

She led him through the hole into an alley which dead ended at the rear of an abandoned and decrepit building. After kicking around in the rubble strewn about the building's foundation, she produced a short length of rebar. Ignoring the `no trespassing' sign posted crudely in red spray paint on the one metal clad door, she jammed the makeshift shank into a barely visible crack between the door and its frame, levering it open just enough for the two of them to squeeze through.

 

As they entered the building, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the pervading darkness and his nose to the dank and musty smell of disuse overshadowed by the sour tang of urine and rot. By the time he'd become acclimated to the surroundings, which once must have been the ground floor of a hotel or office judging by the remains of furniture that had seen better days, she'd led him through a series of corridors to a set of elevator doors marked `service'.

 

Putting the shank to use again, she wedged the doors open enough to push them the rest of the way, revealing an empty shaft which stretched into darkness both above and below.

Before he could suggest otherwise, she gripped the shank in her teeth and stepped into the chasm, landing, as his breath caught in his throat, on a barely visible ledge just inside and below them.

 

He watched her carefully scale around to the back wall of the shaft and lost his patience with hoping she wouldn't fall when she began fishing around in her vest pocket with one hand while the other gripped some miniscule handhold he couldn't see. Knowing she might berate him, he used buku-jutsu and hovered into the chasm supporting her from behind as she searched her pockets. To his surprise, she offered him a warm smile from around the shank as she produced a tiny key and proceeded to insert it into an unseen lock at the back of the shaft.

 

A low grinding of machinery springing to life filled the shaft and the back wall slid open, revealing a narrow staircase heading upward.

 

She hopped out of his grasp and hurried ahead of him up the stairs, her form disappearing into the darkness. He followed, noting that she must be familiar with the steep ascent to have made her way to the top so quickly. He heard her grunt sharply, and then the metallic clang as the length of rebar clattered to the hard floor. He could just make out her struggles with something right before the whine of a gas powered motor echoed in the space around them. Suddenly, the room they stood in flooded with light, and he now saw that she stood in an alcove next to a generator which had sprung to life at her ministrations. She stepped out of the alcove slamming a door shut on the machine and muting its hum.

 

He looked at his surroundings in awe. They stood in what looked like a well appointed penthouse apartment. His eyes fell over the fine overstuffed leather furniture arranged in the central living area around what he assumed were hand woven silk rugs scattered to cover the polished wood floor. Luxurious drapes framed `windows' alight with simulated sunlight, which shone fetchingly on the masterwork paintings that graced the walls.

 

“What is this place?” he asked as he gaped, finally taking in a glass case which displayed a collection of some of the world's most sought after and prized jewels.

 

“Don't tell me after all that time you trained to be an assassin, you've never seen a safe house.” She guffawed as she tossed her bag on one of the sofas and headed for an adjoining room.

 

He heard the tinkle of glass and followed her into a simple but equally well equipped galley kitchen. She'd opened two bottles of expensive imported beer and held one out to him. He retrieved it absently, still somewhat in shock as he stammered. “Yes, but how did you?... when did you?...”

 

“It's mine. You didn't think I just stashed all my loot away somewhere to collect dust, did you? I bought it years ago from a um… coworker. Thanks to his unfortunate er… passing, no one else knows about it but me… and now you.” She grinned with feigned wickedness as she leaned back against the granite countertop. “Surely you realize if you were to tell anyone I'd have to kill you.”

 

“But if you had all this, why did you stay at Kame house for so long?”

 

“Why not? I knew this wasn't goin' anywhere.” She replied offhandedly, but for a moment he watched her features change again, revealing something wistful and longing, almost vulnerable. Perhaps she saw his recognition of this and she quickly turned her attention to her drink, downing a good portion of it.

 

He looked away, not wanting to antagonize her with his concern. He knew she didn't want him to see her as weak, and he'd be less likely to get her to explain whatever trials she'd been through if he angered her. As he did, his gaze fell on a collection of books and strange looking objects strewn over the countertop. Some of these glittered with an unnatural refraction of the light, leading him to believe that she had acquired more jewels, probably illicitly, in her travels.

 

He motioned to the small collection, sensing a reasonable opening. “Is this why you are being followed by the man you described to our friends?”

 

“Oh, that?” She shrugged and fetched another bottle from the refrigerator. “No. I figure that stuff's just a pay off for my trouble. You could say I'm being followed because of a serious breach in the working relationship we had, he and I. He doesn't give a crap about these things, dipshit that he is.” For a moment he thought she was going to spit in disgust, then she just shrugged. “Granted, out there, the big payoff is in pinching whole planets. This here's just a collection of scraps, but well enough to make out just fine for someone living outside of the law…”

 

“Entire worlds?” His mind's eye filled with scenes from the vision she'd shared with him and he realized the pervading sense of coercion he'd felt had everything to do with the fact that the atrocities she'd committed were well within whatever served as law beyond their own planet.

 

“Yeah. Everything here's just small potatoes. But, there's plenty to be skimmed for someone with the skills to stay under the radar. Lots of opportunity out there…”

 

He recognized that she had every intention of taking advantage of that opportunity, and frowned deeply in his disapproval.

 

She frowned back at him. “Look, if you're thinking I sold you out, it's not like that. Raditzu wasn't coming here anyway. If you want to blame anybody, point your finger at Goku. Raditzu wouldn't even bother with this place himself if his…” She returned her attention to her drink as though she'd just stopped herself from revealing something, and choked on a mouthful of beer. The carbonation must have bubbled up into the back of her nose and she sneezed, leaving Ranchi to do the explaining.

 

He started at the sudden transformation, while Ranchi immediately fell into his arms, sobbing, letting the beer bottle fall to the floor with a crash and a sploosh of liquid.

 

“Oh, Tenshinhan, I tried to stop him! There was nothing I could do. He's so very strong and just so… so… mean!” She thrust the word out between her weeping, obviously at a loss for anything more descriptive.

 

Not knowing any other way to react, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry, burying her face in his chest. “Don't worry,” he whispered, trying to soothe her, “we'll find a way to stop him.”

 

“No!” she wailed. “You don't understand. I thought if only… if only I could find a way to please him, he might leave this place alone. But Goku… Goku… there's hardly anyone else left of their race… there was no way…”

 

He felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of her having to `please' another man, even if she hadn't exactly been the woman he'd had a relationship with, and even though he couldn't be sure entirely what that entailed. He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back to look her over.

 

“Did he hurt you?” It seemed like a stupid question under the circumstances, but he suddenly wanted to make the impending challenge more than saving the world. All at once, it felt very personal.

 

“Yes… but n-no!” she stammered, rapidly looking more afraid than comforted. His scrutiny brought on a new wave of tears. ` I - I thought I'd never see you, any of you again. I was so frightened I just… I just…” She hid her face in her hands, trying to gain some control, and finally looked up at him sheepishly. “I didn't want to die,” she whispered, with something of defeat reflected in her eyes.

 

He attempted to draw her back into his arms, but she skirted away. “We WILL defeat him,” he repeated strongly, not knowing what else he could do but promise to exorcise this demon that had obviously terrorized her, perhaps for her entire absence.

 

“But…but even all of you together won't be strong enough,” she said, shaking he head in denial of his declaration. “and…” she sobbed again, “it's partly my fault. I even helped him. He didn't know how to hide his ki and I showed him.” She suddenly became even more panic stricken. “He could be here already and we wouldn't even know it.”

 

“No,” he said with conviction, gently grasping her shoulders again and looking into her tear filled eyes. “Someone as evil as you describe - I'm sure we will feel something at his arrival. And I believe we are strong enough. We have to be, so we will be. Let him come, and let this other one Bulma described follow. We will be ready.”

 

“You still don't see,” she whimpered. “Not only is he stronger than all of the fighters on this world put together, he is very, very angry with me, and he'll take it out on everyone.” She looked back into his eyes with an intensity he'd never seen in her before. “Especially you. And Goku… he believes that Goku is like him, and when he finds out that he's not, it'll be even worse. The only way you could even hope to have a chance is to get Piccolo to help us, and then we're going to have to do something terrible.”

 

Before he could ask any more questions she sneezed again. Kushami looked down at the spilt beer and smirked. “Heh. She's so fucking dramatic, isn't she?”

 

It took him a moment to respond, having to remind himself that each personality now had awareness of the other, and that he'd agreed with Chaozu to be responsible for helping with that as well as whatever was on the way from outer space. She scoffed at his hesitation while producing a hand-rolled cigarette from her pocket. She lit it and blew a cloud of pungent and unfamiliar smelling smoke in his face.

 

“Call it dramatics if you must… Do you believe in this impending doom, or is it all just Ranchi's hysterics?”

 

“Odds are, yes, we're doomed. But that's never stopped you guys before, so I figured what the hell.” She took a large pull off of the burning punk hanging from her mouth, this stime blowing a substantial plume of smoke towards the ceiling.

 

“What is it that we have to do that is so terrible then? I hope it will not be a repeat of your indiscretion at the museum. You realize that when we do have a chance, we must find the dragonballs and wish all of those unfortunates back.”

 

“Yeah, about that. I really didn't mean to mow through there as much as I did. I was still kinda' in meat grinder mode from my last few jobs, and I forgot just how much of a wallop my new toy packs on low levels.” She glanced over at the very large weapon that lay among the things lining the countertops. “We have too much to do in too short a time to go looking for dragonballs though.”

 

“And this terrible thing?” He prodded, wondering if she would actually divulge whatever plan she had.

 

“We have to convince Piccolo Jr. to help us. Thing is, even if he fights on our side, it still won't be enough, so the best way he can start helping is to nearly kill Goku.” He gasped slightly. “Multiple times, until he can't even come close to hurting him.”

 

“But why ever…?”

 

“Because the kind of alien Goku is gets stronger every time they get beat down. The harder the better,” she interrupted before he could elaborate on the question. His mind immediately began weighing how difficult keeping up with Goku's strength in his own training had become. He wondered at Goku's potential strength and what limits it had, if any.

 

“But, with the kind of time we've got,” she continued, “at least the first go around will have to be a surprise, upping the odds, since I don't know if Piccolo can even do this once. Plus, we need to be sure there's enough senzu beans, because we don't have time for licking wounds and all that.”

 

“Why convince Piccolo at all? In my estimation he would be happy to do such a thing.”

 

“It's the part where he leaves Goku alive we'll have to do the convincing about.” She smirked again, as though he should have already known this.

 

“And if he refuses?”

 

“That's where the failsafe comes in,” she said as she slid some books out of the way revealing a rice cooker similar to the one he remembered breaking years ago. He stifled another gasp and stepped forward to take a closer look at it.

 

“You realize the Mafu-ba means death if I should use it?”

 

“Aw, hell. I `d think you'd at least try and get the old man to do that if we need it…”

 

“And the last time, Piccolo reversed it on Kami himself.” He scrutinized the strange symbols on the omamori. “What does it say?”

 

“Wards against demons, good luck and the usual stuff,” she said offhandedly. “That's not really why I brought it for you, mostly just to corroborate my story.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“You just let me worry about that and you hang on to that thing for safekeeping…”

 

“You must tell me, does it already have anything in it?”

 

“Fuck if I know. Go ahead and find out if you want. You're the one with the psychic little buddy. All I care is it's probably worth a bunch of credits. We'll just sell it off when we're done here.” She turned to the sink and stubbed out the butt of here cigarette therein.

 

“We?”

 

“Yeah. Of course I was going to invite you with me when I go back out there.” He noted that she kept her back turned to him, shoulders hunched as she said this. “Think of all the training you could do. There's places with higher gravity than here. Heck, standard grav on ships is at least twice what it is here. I know for a fact that'll help you. I've heard of two people squeezing into those pods before. I'll even let you toss Chaozu in the boot if you wanna bring him. I'm sure it would only be a little while before we could buy something bigger with all the loot we got here…”

 

“But the Briefs dismantled the pod.” He struggled to find something to dissuade her from the insane plan she was apparently set on.

 

“Well, there's people on their way with more, right?” She turned back to face him, now practically beaming in her triumph in coming up with the solution to lack of space transport and nudged him with her elbow.

 

He saw that subtlety wouldn't work. She was way beyond that. “I won't go with you.”

 

Her face communicated utter disappointment for only a moment before returning to something of a grin, albeit more of a strained grimace. “Suit yourself. That's twice I invited you and most people don't get asked once.” She crossed her arms over her chest defensively as she huffed back into the living area.

 

“I won't take you to see Piccolo either,” he called after her as he followed.

 

“Don't need you to.” Her reply came back muffled as she was pulling something that looked like armor over her head and had her back to him. She turned back around as she affixed a strange eyepiece to her head and proceeded to work what must have been controls on the side of the apparatus. “Best get busy. I'd go looking for senzu if I were you.”