Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Satan Video ❯ Fallout ( Chapter 28 )

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

He was pimpin'. He had on his red, silk shirt with the top two buttons undone so that just enough of his magnificent chest hair was visible. It was tucked into his tight white jeans. His hair, well, it wasn't quite up to its former glory yet, but with the extensions, no one could tell. He was looking good! So what that the night had yet to produce any results, obviously those women were undeserving of a specimen as delicious as himself.

Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Comedy | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.19.2002 | Updated On: 05.26.2005 | Pages: 7 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Work In Progress

Satan Video

Chapter 27: Fallout

A/N: Eh, I know this is a LONG time coming. Sorry. Real life, postpartum depression, and all that good stuff kick my muse's ass in a bad way. I'm already about half way done with the next chapter. It was going to be one long chapter, but it was getting too long if you can believe it. No guarantees as to when I'll have it done, though. Anywho, enjoy!

*is surprised I have any readers left O_o*

Last time: "Fuck this," Vegeta mumbled as he powered up and shot into the peaceful night sky. Bulma watched for a moment before turning toward Goku with a sigh. The screeching of tires caught both of their attention, though, as the police cars showed up followed shortly by the fire deptarment and EMS.

~^~

Two police cars screeched to a halt in front of the remains of Satan Video. The two officers looked at each other in disbelief as they got out of their patrol cars.

“What on Earth happened here?” one exclaimed as he took in the scene before him. Almost total annihilation of the store. Luckily there appeared to be quite a few witnesses, disoriented as they may be.

“I don't know, but it looks like we're in for a long night,” the other sighed as he noticed some people appeared to be leaving. “Let's get this over with.”

***

Bulma and Goku stood dumbfounded, glancing at each other momentarily before turning back to the spectacle before them. “It's like something out of a bad movie. If I'd known the night was going to turn out like this, I wouldn't have come to work today,” Bulma chuckled as she watched the officers attempt to assess the situation. Goku laughed with her imagining how she'd expected the evening to go, a few arguments over late fees or bad customer service being the worst part of the shift.

The sound of Piccolo groaning and trying to move amidst the debris caught their attention, reminding them that there was more going on than just the cops showing up. Bulma scrambled to go check on Yamcha leaving Goku to help Piccolo out of his own personal crater in the dilapidated store.

“Hey man,” Goku said as he extended a hand toward the bloody alien. “You alright?”

Piccolo glared at him before accepting his offer. “Never better,” he replied as he was hoisted up onto his feet. He ached but was able to stand and hoped Yamcha was in as good shape. `Feh, they can take care of him,' he thought. `I did more than enough after the shit he just pulled. What the hell was he thinking anyway?'

He turned to Goku, trying to wipe the mixture of blood and dust off his temple as it threatening to drip down his face. “I'm leaving. I've had enough of this place for one night.” The other alien nodded in understanding.

***

The two police officers started, notepads in tow, and began taking statements from the people gathered in what remained of the parking lot.

“It was unreal! These two guys started fighting in the store!”

“One worked there,” another added.

“Yeah, they knocked over a bunch of shelves and stuff. I was pretty funny until they started flying and shooting lights from their hands. It wasn't long after that that the store was blown up,” the witness enthusiastically informed. The two police officers both raised an eyebrow before glancing at each other. They turned back toward the small group of customers.

“Oooookay, I suppose next you're going to tell me there are little green men running around as well?” The two officers burst into laughter. A moment later Goku and the newly conscious Piccolo walked past them. The laughter quickly ceased.

***

Bulma ran over to the sidewalk where Krillin was sitting with her ex-boyfriend.

“Oh my god, Yamcha. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grated out bitterly as he shrugged her off. Realizing that he would in fact live, her concern quickly became anger.

“What the hell were you thinking? You could've been killed!”

“I'm sure that would've just broken your heart,” he said as he wiped some blood away from his eyes with the edge of his shirt. Noticing that this would not be a pleasant exchange, Krillin decided to move a few meters down the sidewalk. He'd had enough fighting for one evening. The quarrelling couple never even noticed.

“What the hell? Of course it would have, asshole. Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean I don't care about you.” He cut her off before she could say anymore.

“You were cheating on me.” The statement had no real malice in it, just a candid declaration of the facts. Bulma felt her insides knot up as the guilt came crashing back. She sighed and looked down at the ground he was sitting on. No more lies.

“Yes.” The two sat there in silence a moment oblivious to the fact that medical personnel had begun to look him over.

“Sir, can you tell me your name?” This seemed to break the spell, but he still didn't take his eyes off her.

“Yeah well, I guess it doesn't matter anyway, right? Since we're no longer together and all.” The bitterness was back in his voice, and it felt like a knife stabbing her in the gut. The EMT looked back and forth between the two slightly annoyed that he was being ignored.

“Sir, can you walk?” another asked as he parked a stretcher next to Yamcha. He finally acknowledged them.

“Yeah,” the bloodied man answered as he carefully stood on his shaky legs and got onto the bed.

“Yamcha, I'm so sorry. I never wanted it to be like this,” she managed to get out clearly despite the fact that she was desperately holding back tears. He didn't respond to her. He wouldn't even look at her. He couldn't. It hurt too much, so much more than the cuts from the glass and the pounding he took from Vegeta. Instead, he turned toward one of the paramedics.

“How much longer?”

“We're almost ready,” the man answered as he attached another piece of monitoring equipment to him. He then lowered the stretcher, and the other paramedic helped him load it into the ambulance.

“Can I ride with him?” Krillin asked as they were about to shut the doors.

“Yeah, okay,” one answered as he held the door open.

“I'll call you later,” the short man told Bulma with a smile before jumping into the ambulance. She began sobbing as they drove away.

***

Goku accompanied Piccolo over to the curb.

“Are you sure you don't want to hang around for a bit? I'm pretty sure they're gonna want to talk to you about what happened.”

“They've got at least 30 other people to question. They do not need me!”

“Okay,” he answered with hands up in surrender. “You sure you're okay to fly by yourself? I can go with you if ya want.”

“No, I already told you. Yamcha's the only one you should be worried about. Go bother him,” he snapped as he cracked his neck and rotated his right shoulder. “I'll see you later,” he added as he shot up into the air.

Goku shook his head with a grin as he turned back toward the busy parking lot. The cops had apparently missed Piccolo's skybound exit.

He glanced over at Bulma and Yamcha. Paramedics had just arrived and were beginning to look him over. Krillin was sitting a slight distance away on the sidewalk. He was about to go over there to find out how everyone was doing when one of the cops noticed him.

“You there, we still need to get your statement.”

“Oh, okay,” the alien answered as he glanced over at his friends again. This would just take a few minutes anyway.

Goku finished giving his account of events and went over to comfort Bulma. He pulled her into a hug as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Ma'am, we need to get a statement from you.”

Bulma nodded and reluctantly let go of her friend.

“You want me to wait for you?” Goku asked. She shook her head.

“No. You go on. I'll be alright. Besides, you probably ought to go check on Vegeta. Make sure he's not getting himself into any trouble. I'd rather be alone right now anyway.”

He nodded and gave her another hug. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” he said pulling back to look into her eyes.

“I will,” she replied with a smile. At least someone didn't hate her.

“Okay,” she said turning to the officer. “Let's get this over with.”

***

Goku goes home to find that Vegeta isn't inside the apartment.

“That's funny. I thought this was where I sensed him to be.” He tried again and realized his error. He walked out onto the balcony, took a deep breath, and then levitated up to the roof. Vegeta made no move to acknowledge his visitor; he simply continued staring up at the night sky.

Goku decided to lie down next to him and wait, thankful that he hadn't found him destroying part of the planet. It was only a few minutes later that he was rewarded with conversation.

“I've always hated how the lights from the city obscure the view of the stars. I have to fly out to the middle of nowhere just to get a fraction of the view I had from space.”

“Yeah, well, we're actually lucky to see anything at all from here.”

Vegeta's didn't respond.

“So, tonight was pretty wild, huh? You never did tell me what happened.”

“Kakarotto,” he said with a sigh. “I told you to fucking drop it back at the store.” He then mumbled to himself, “Fucking females. More trouble than they're worth.”

“Yeah,” Goku answered anyway despite the fact that the statement wasn't directed to him. “Chi Chi's gonna kill me for leaving her at the movies.”

Vegeta snorted. “Why should you care? These humans are insignificant to us.”

“No. They aren't. This is where I was raised. It's my home, and I'm one of them. That may not make much sense to you, but it's how it is. And as much as you want to tell yourself they don't matter, we both know it isn't true otherwise you wouldn't be pissed off right now.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth in response. “I told you I don't want to have this conversation!” he growled at his roommate before casting his sight back on the night sky. Goku sighed. The two sat there in silence for a few minutes before the taller Saiyajin had an idea.

“Hey! I got a new fighting game downstairs. I bet I can kick your ass all over the place,” he declared with a grin. Vegeta's eyes shifted to his challenger momentarily and grinned.

“Bring it on, Kakarotto!” Goku jumped off the roof, landing on their balcony.

“Just try not to break the controller this time, okay?”

The prince rolled his eyes and mumbled a quick “whatever” as the two made it inside the apartment.

***

The walk to her apartment was a quiet one. Not too much was going on in the city this evening aside from the demolition of her place of employment, not that she would've noticed anyway. Her mind was preoccupied with troubled thoughts.

`I lied to both of them, and Yamcha paid a serious price. He'll be okay, but still, he was sent to the goddamned hospital because of my bullshit! Why didn't I just tell him the truth? Then all of this could've been avoided. But, no, I had to be a fucking coward!' She kicked a rock and watched as it tumbled along the sidewalk before getting stuck in a crack. She sighed and continued on her path.

“Vegeta.” She whispered the lone word forlornly, and with a shake of the head, returned the one-sided conversation back to her thoughts. `He's never going to forgive me. I know it, especially after all the other mess I put him through. He's too full of pride. And too damn strong! He could've killed Yamcha! No, he would have if Piccolo hadn't stepped in. Luckily he just blew up the store.'

Her brow crinkled up as she thought about Mr. Satan. `I don't even want to think about what's going to happen with that. We'll probably all get fired.' A breeze picked up, momentarily distracting her from her thoughts. Bulma unconsciously hugged herself as a chill ran up her spine. She quickly glanced around her surroundings to figure out how far away from home she was.

“Four more blocks,” she mumbled as she began to cross the street. She watched as her shadow started to grow until the street light from the next corner distorted the image, getting rid of it altogether a few steps later. It was surreal, almost dreamlike, just as tonight had been. If only it were a dream…

***

He was pimpin'. He had on his red, silk shirt with the top two buttons undone so that just enough of his magnificent chest hair was visible. It was tucked into his tight white jeans. His hair, well, it wasn't quite up to its former glory yet, but with the extensions, no one could tell. He was looking good! So what that the night had yet to produce any results, obviously those women were undeserving of a specimen as delicious as himself.

“Probably lesbians,” he reaffirmed before quickly finishing off his drink. He set the glass down and turned around, leaning back against the bar as he scanned the room for women more worthy.

“Bingo!” his mind declared as his eyes feasted upon the red head across the room. He ran his tongue over his teeth quickly before pushing himself away from the bar and toward the newest object of his desire. She didn't notice her admirer until it was too late.

“Hey, there.” She was cornered. “I'm Hercule. What's your name gorgeous?”

“Uh… Rachel,” she replied as she scanned the nearby tables for anyone who could swiftly get her away from this freak.

“You're looking mighty fine this evening. How's about you and me going someplace a little more private?” he cooed as he grabbed one of her hands. The slap was not heard over the music, but the message was loud and clear to the champ.

“Undeserving,” he told himself as another woman nearby caught his attention. He strutted over toward her, fully intent on using the same line, but just as he got to her, his phone rang. `Damn.'

“Pardon me just a sec, sweet thang,” he husked with a wink, reaching into his coat pocket for his cell. The buxom blond sighed in relief as he turned his back to her and answered his phone.

`Thank god for small favors,' she thought as she quietly stepped away from the celebrity and headed straight for the restroom.

He nodded a few times as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. When he didn't respond, the police officer began to get annoyed.

“Mr. Satan? Hello? Are you there?”

The response the officer received was the sound of the phone hitting the tile floor followed by a large crash as the champ fainted, landing on a table behind him and sending it toppling to the floor. The officer's voice could be heard chirping from the phone that lay only a foot away from its owner.

“Hello? Mr. Satan, are you alright?”

***

The nurse came in to check his vital signs and noticed his downtrodden state.

“She doesn't deserve you, ya know.”

Yamcha looked up in mild surprise.

“I overheard your friend talking to an officer out in the hallway,” she answered to his unspoken question. He nodded.

“It still doesn't make it hurt any less.”

“True,” she started as she wrote down his blood pressure reading on a clipboard. “But all good things come to an end eventually. It's better to be thankful for the good times than to dwell on the loss,” she added with a smile as she squeezed his hand lightly. He nodded back with a sad smile of his own. “Hey, you like ice cream?”

“Uh yeah,” he answered confused as to what that had to do with anything.

“Great!” she answered and slipped out of the room. She returned less than a minute late with a pint of chocolate ice cream. “Here. Some contraband will make you feel better.” She handed him the pint and a spoon, and in a hushed tone, added with a wink, “But you didn't get it from me.”

“Okay,” he laughed.

“Alright. Well, I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. If you need anything, just push that button right there.” She started for the door.

“Thank you,” he called after her. She stopped and faced him. “For everything, I mean.”

“Don't mention it. We've all been there at some point.”

***

She sat there on her barstool, empty shot glass in one hand, bottle of vodka in the other. Examining the transparent bottle, she ran her fingers over the red and silver foiled label and watched the clear contents move within their confines as she turned the bottle from side to side. Her throat no longer burned but instead was numb as the alcohol had begun to take effect. She then realized she was warm.

Foregoing the shot glass, Bulma took a quick swig directly from the bottle before screwing the cap back on and laying the bottle on its side. `I should call and check on Yamcha,' she thought before quickly dismissing the idea. “He wouldn't want to talk to me,” she sighed, passing the bottle back and forth between her hands as it rolled on the bar.

“I'll be surprised if he ever speaks to me again. Heh,” she laughed cynically. “I'll be lucky if either of them ever speak to me.”

She replayed over and over the events leading up to the night's disaster: her relationship with Vegeta, the mess with Yamcha and his affair, and the night it all started spiraling out of control: Krillin's party.

“If only I had been truthful to them from the beginning.” She thought for a moment. “No,” she amended. “From the very beginning. If I had tried to deal with my feelings for Yamcha (or lack there of), we wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with. There would have been no games, no lies, no drunken indiscretion.”

Her eyes drifted down to the bottle lying in front of her. The excuses were already on the tip of her tongue. How easy it would be to blame her troubles on the alcohol. The tears that had been welling in her eyes began to slowly stream down her already stained cheeks.

“If only…” she trailed off. If only what? If only had I not been drinking? If only had I not slept with Vegeta? She realized where her thoughts were leading her, and it only made her angry.

“How about if only I hadn't been such a fucking coward??!!” Bulma demanded of herself. “How about if only had I taken responsibility for my actions?? How about if only it weren't too little too late?”

Disgusted with herself, Bulma less than gracefully hopped off the barstool and made her way to the bathroom, dropping the vodka in the trash on the way. A long, hot bath would do her some good.