Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Redemption ❯ Loaded Gun ( Chapter 2 )

If you're reading this little introduction, then that means you've continued to read my poor little Ginyu story- Thank you! *bows* this is chapter two, in which Jizu meets- and has some problems with- the `Golden Three' of the Homicide and Narcotics division. More will come later on. Enjoy!

 

Chapter 2: Loaded Gun

 

Two days after his initial introduction, Jizu Blade- formerly of the Ginyu Force- looked in the mirror in his bathroom and glared.

He was a clever son of a bitch. Very clever. He'd manage to survive under Freiza, he would survive this. This couldn't possibly be as hard as purging and selling planets.

Walking out of the bathroom in the small apartment obtained for him by the commissioner, he scratched absently at the collar around his neck. The thing was fascinating, a work of art.

 

It was also easy to get out of.

 

But he wouldn't take it off, not yet. After all, the commissioner felt safer when he had it on. And a man who thinks he is safe is twice as likely to make a mistake.

Jizu started to dress, pulling on black pants and a shirt. He thanked Viver* that there could be no true dress code in the Galactic police- too many members, too many styles. It let him be non-descript, or loud and obnoxious. He'd always been somewhat of a gothic punker at heart.

 

Today he went for non-descript, the only loud thing about him being the silver pendant hanging down his black clad chest. Yanking on his boots, he glanced at the holo-clock on his headboard. He had plenty of time, but best to not be late to work on the first day. After all, the impression he was going for was intelligent and withdrawn.

Right, he though wryly as he walked out of the complex and into the crowded street. If that's the effect I manage to get, then these idiots are dumber than I thought.

 

~*~*~

 

 

The homicide and narcotics section of the Intergalactic police had many, many members, from all over the universe. Seeing all of the different types of drugs which were manufactured on any random amount of worlds, this was the only efficient way to keep things running smoothly. Marks Barcolli decided he would pair his rookie officer up with one of the smaller groups of investigators- a very small group, as it only consisted of three people.

 

Kanan Goron resembled a bird, with feathers instead of hair and clawed feet and hands. There were even, or so office rumor went, feathers running down his back. His coloration was that of a parrot, with green skin and red on gold plumage. He perched, rather than stood, and though he could walk like what most considered a normal gait, he preferred hopping as a rule. Kanan was a Ganjin, from a planet far on the outer rim, notorious for narcotics. This would have made him an invaluable asset in and of itself, if it wasn't for his race's ability to intake any drug, in any form, without ill effects. By taking the drug into his system, Kanan could identify what it was and where it came from. And so he was a member of the `Golden Three' of the H&N.

 

Another member of the three was Matsuo Daujino. A ningen/Markenian crossbreed, Matsuo had lived on a starship for most of his life. The crossing of ningen and markenian genes left Matsuo with the basic overall appearance of a Japanese human, but intense psychic powers. He, too, was another great asset to the Galactic Police. Matsuo was almost insanely calm in any situation. It was generally believed, by those who haunted the coffee makers and other implements of destruction shipped from otherworlds, that he was an android.

 

The last of this little band was Fasia Kintu. Fasia, though very young, was considered the `beauty' of the H&N. He was a Narcissan, with aqua blue skin, short dark green hair in a series of thin braids, and bright golden eyes. Fasia was not the brightest bulb in the box, but he was quick with a gun and he had a steady aim. His gut instincts and ability to go on a hunch had made him one of the higher ranking detectives even at his age, 24.

 

Fasia, Matsuo, and Kanan had been together for five years. They knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. And all three of them felt, on various levels, that they were, in effect, getting shafted.

 

“Why do WE need to take the gods-cursed rookie?!” growled Fasia, his normally elegant expression sour. Kanan shook his feathered head.

“We don't have a choice, Fas,” he said coolly. “The Chief said that we look after the new kid, so we look after the new kid.”

“Besides,” added Matsuo in his normal monotone, “Weren't YOU the new kid once?”

Fasia glared at his two companions, and then proceeded to fling his black coat out the door and into the hallway in frustration. “You guys aren't bothered by this? AT ALL?”

“Did someone lose a coat?” inquired an odd accent. “Damn thing nearly smothered me.”

 

Fasia turned and looked into a set of emerald orbs. They smirked at him. He glared.

“Hello, companion,” commented Kanan, shuffling a bit on his clawed feet. “It appears we are all together here.”

“Indeed,” muttered Fasia, grabbing his coat from Jizu's open hands. The small shinjin backed up a bit, arms up. “When'd I light a fire under ye?” he asked, grinning. It was a reckless grin, one promising adventure and some danger. Matsuo sighed inwardly. Great, another Fasia.

Fasia said nothing, only glared. Jizu seemed to get the picture, and turned to Matsuo.

“So, ye're supposed to be babysitting me.” He grinned again. “Poor man.”

Matsuo nodded. Kanan flapped his way over.

“I shall show you our latest case,” he said, motioning towards the stacks of holo-disks on the desks. “It is.. how do ningens say.. a dozy?”

“That's doozy, Kanan.” Corrected Matsuo. Jizu glanced at him. “I'm half human.”

 

The shinjin whistled, and with good reason. Very few humans, or ningens, knew about other universes outside their small planet of earth, or as the spacers called it, Chikyuu. Those who did were little more than shadows, smoke and mirrors. There was nothing particularly strange about the humans- except for their almost explosive ability to learn, and learn quickly. Humans were the sponges of the universe, absorbing all they saw and heard. Matsuo nodded.

 

“Yes, it is a bit like that. Fasia?” the Narcissan glanced up from where he had been glaring the paint off the wall. “Yes?” he asked in a voice that dripped poison. “Could you find the disks on the Necromb case? I don't think Kanan can manage it on his own.” The Gajin looked ruefully at Matsuo as Fasia dove into the pile of holodisks and paper records. When he emerged with a pile of disks in bright orange, Matsuo slid them into the computer.

“This is Kalamarjo Necromb,” he said, flashing a picture of an odd, octopus-like being on the wall screen. “He was a suspect in a ring which was smuggling in gako leaves from Hatark.”

“Was?” asked Jizu, leaning on the wall.

“Was. He was found dead three days ago. Apparently, whoever wanted him dead wanted him VERY dead. They drugged him with ground gako and then stabbed him 13 times with a daktari.” A picture of the knife appeared on the screen.

“The Chief's been busting our asses on this one,” commented Fasia from the corner he had chosen to sulk in. “You think you're up to scouting detail, rookie?”

Jizu glanced at him. “Ye know,” he said thoughtfully, “I knew a Narcissan once, and I wondered if they were all the same. I guess I was right. Ye all seem to have the same key character flaws.”

“Wh-what?” Spluttered Fasia. Kanan laughed outright while Matsuo covered his quiet chuckle. Jizu grinned. “All looks, so little brains.”

 

Fasia growled and moved into a martial arts position.

“I've had just about enough of you, rookie,” he growled. Matsuo and Kanan, full well knowing the Narcissan's temper and fight training, sat back to watch the proceedings. Jizu did nothing- only raised a single, snow white eyebrow. Fasia attacked in a low lunge-

to find himself on the floor, hands twisted behind him, Jizu crouched over him.

“Well, isn't this interesting,” the Shinjin murmured.

“Get OFF OF ME!!” Fasia growled, struggling, wondering why someone who looked so small had a grip like iron.

“Face it, blue,” Jizu said calmly, “Ye're gonna be seein' a lot more of me, so get the fuck over it.” He stood. Fasia did as well. Rubbing his wrists, he glared.

“I'll get you, you little bugna,” he growled in his home language.

“A bugna lives longer than a hanjb.” Retorted Jizu in the same dialect. Then he turned and looked at the two men who had observed the spat. “Now ladies, what exactly is on the agenda for today?”

 

Matsuo rolled his eyes. This could prove to be an interesting relationship.

 

as further explanation, Viver is the Shinjin god of luck, thieves, assassins, and various other dark dealings. Why Jizu prays to him and not anyone else in this pantheon will be explained later on.

 

And thus the second chapter ends. I would like to hear from you on how you liked the story- it's good points and bad points. I again assert that flamers have nothing intelligent to say, while constructive criticism is quite welcome and enjoyed.

Moving off of that, I would also like to inform the masses that I cannot draw. Therefore, if anyone wants to draw fanart of `redemption' (I would like to see a picture of the `Golden Three', I think it would be cute. ^^) then please do so, just mention I gave you the idea.

 

Chapter 3, coming soon!