Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Some Disassembly Required ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

I know I listed this as comedy/romance, but it tends more towards the former than the latter. Quite a lot more. I don't know whether that will matter much, but I felt I should say something. This story is broken into three chapters. The other two are complete and awaiting editing, so they should be up by the end of the week. Hopefully.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters therein. Trust me, if I did, I'd know.

Enjoy!

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Krillin peered across the barroom to where Yamcha was leaning casually against the bar. He didn't know why he was looking. It wasn't any of his business and he knew how it was going to end. And yet he continued to look on, his attention held by some morbid curiosity as if he were watching a freight train rumbling towards a car stalled on the tracks.

Looking away for a moment, he stole a glance at Vegeta. The Saiyan was sat next to him, but obviously not too close, with his arms draped across the backrest of the bench and an ankle propped on his knee. He too had been staring intently at Yamcha. Then, remembering that Vegeta was none too keen on people staring at him, Krillin returned his attention to the bar.

Yamcha was still there, giving the dead horse what-for with all his might. But it was no use. The girl just wasn't interested, and was becoming visibly less interested with each word of enticement that purred from Yamcha's smirking mouth. Krillin was pretty sure he could make out some the things he was saying. Even he, who had lived so much of his life as a monk could tell it was all pretty standard, clichéd even. But from the look on the suitor's face it was evident that he thought he was bestowing lyrical praise of the highest order. He was totally oblivious. It was like watching a colour blind man trying to defuse a bomb.

"Just put him out of his misery already," Krillin cringed as Yamcha made a particularly trite comment about the young lady's lucid-blue eyes.

The tension and inevitability of it was all just too much.

"You say something?" Vegeta said abruptly.

"Who, me," Krillin replied. "No, I didn't say anything."

Vegeta grunted. He wasn't really interested in what Krillin had to say anyway.

Krillin looked down at his feet, which barely touched the grimy, slightly sticky barroom floor. He had come over a little self conscious again. The feeling had stemmed from being somewhat over dressed for the occasion, what with sporting an immaculate white suit and shirt, and a black tie. Of course it had been Vegeta, who had shown up in his usual ensemble of blue sweat pants and t-shirt that had derived the most amusement from his appearance, drawing some rather unwelcome comparisons with Tattoo from Fantasy Island. The calls of "Boss, boss! The plane, the plane!" had only served to compound his misery.

But failed propositions and Vegeta's taste for cult television aside, the night was passing off fairly quietly. The bar wasn't too crowded, and the ambient music was quite agreeable. The company was a little weird, but these were unfamiliar surroundings so the familiarity of even Vegeta's snarling features was welcome. And it was getting late, so he would be justified in excusing himself soon enough.

A loud smack resonated across the room.

Krillin looked up to see an attractive young lady storming towards the door, and a bemused Yamcha rubbing his left cheek.

He should have cut the blue wire.

Vegeta gave a satisfied chuckle. "Excellent," he said. "It's like he was born to be slapped around!"

Yamcha composed himself, and strode back over with a false assuredness.

"You okay?" Krillin asked having noticed the burning red hand print that adorned his friend's face.

"Yeah, I'm okay," smiled Yamcha. "Just a little misunderstanding, that's all."

"I'd say she understood you just fine," Vegeta grinned. "And she definitely didn't miss."

"Yeah, real funny Vegeta," Yamcha sneered, the embarrassed reddening of his cheeks almost swallowing up his latest battle scar.

Vegeta continued to smile wickedly, and held eye contact with Yamcha as if to see whether or not he was going to do anything about it. He didn't however, and Vegeta was soon taken by one of his princely mood swings as his look of amusement quickly dissolved into one of boredom.

"Hey, where are you going?" Yamcha asked as Vegeta raised himself to his feet.

"I got what I came here to see," he answered abruptly.

With that, he dropped his gloved hands into his pockets and made for the door.

"Bye, Vegeta," Krillin called after him. He got no reply.

As he left, Vegeta bumped shoulders with a burly pool player, sending him flying across the table, and then vanished into the night. A couple of the pool player's fellow sharks gave chase, but this was of little concern to Krillin. Likely they would be back soon, though not via the same portal through which they had left.

"Ah, good riddance," Yamcha said having made sure that Vegeta was out of earshot. "He was cramping my style anyway. Now the real party can start, right buddy?"

Krillin grimaced slightly. Yamcha was a little bit drunk, and it made Krillin uncomfortable and rather sad to see him that way.

Yamcha had given up fighting after the somewhat picric victory that was the Cell games. So far he hadn't been handling retirement so well. There weren't too many job opportunities out there for an ex-bandit/martial artist/superhero and, though Krillin hadn't the nerve to point it out to him, he had never really got over the gory break-up with Bulma. Nonetheless, Krillin had to applaud Yamcha's sportsmanship in tolerating Vegeta as he did, under the circumstances.

"Actually," Krillin started. "I think I should probably..."

"That's the spirit!" beamed Yamcha, wrapping a firm arm around his comrade. "After all, the night's still young, right?"

"Right," Krillin sighed.

Yamcha smiled and stared at Krillin for a little longer than the diminutive fighter was comfortable with before looking up and scanning the near deserted barroom.

"Hey," he said after a moment. "Look over there."

Krillin looked to the far corner of the room, to the table at which Yamcha was pointing none too subtly. There was sat yet another attractive young woman, sipping a clear drink through a straw. Her green eyes darted away as they met with his.

"You see her?" Yamcha asked.

"Yeah, what about her?" said Krillin with a deliberate coolness.

"She is totally checking you out, Krillin!"

Krillin looked back. Again he caught her looking. This time, her eyes lingered as she brushed a few strands of black hair behind her right ear.

"You should go over there," Yamcha goaded.

"No, I... I don't think so."

"Come on Krillin, look at her. She's hot, and she digs you. What else could you possible want?"

Suddenly, the reasons behind Yamcha's success rate with the ladies had become all too clear.

"No, I can't," Krillin declined.

"Sure you can."

"No, Yamcha. I can't."

"Why not?"

Krillin blushed, and rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, you know..."

"What... oh Krillin, you're not still sweet on that android are you?" Yamcha sighed.

"Her name's 18, and I am not sweet on her. We're going out."

"You are not."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"Are too!"

"Krillin, you are not going out with Android 18."

"Oh yeah?" Krillin snapped, "Well, how come she agreed to come live me and Master Roshi?"

"For geez sake Krillin, the only reason she agreed to stay with you is because Dende's lookout is too draughty, Bulma's place is full of 'disgusting animals' and Chi Chi won't have psychotic killing machines in the house. And besides, wouldn't you rather have a real woman?"

Krillin leapt out of his seat. "She is a real woman!" he yelled.

The girl in the corner got up and left... quite quickly.

"Woah, Krillin," Yamcha said, raising his hands defensively. "I'm sorry. Maybe that was a little out of line." He placed a hand on Krillin's shoulder and gently manoeuvred him back onto the bench. Looking out across the bar at the staring clientele he said, "Don't worry. Everything's fine. Just a little too much lemonade is all."

"Don't talk about my girlfriend like that," Krillin demanded a little more evenly, "She's as real as any of us."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. All I'm saying is, well, how well do you know her? I mean, really know her. You've got to remember, she started out as a bad guy."

"So did you."

Yamcha frowned. "That's not the point. The point is how can you say you have a real relationship when you hardly know the girl you're going out with?"

Krillin's expression softened and he turned to look out across the room. He hadn't thought of that.

Yamcha hiccupped. "I'm gonna get another drink. You want anything?"

Krillin didn't reply, and continued to stare blankly across the room.

"Okay then," Yamcha shrugged and left for the bar once more.

Krillin sat immersed in thought; and in the damp patch where Yamcha had spilled his beer earlier. The idea that he didn't know 18 as well as he should was troubling him deeply, all the more so because the more he thought about it, the more he realised it was true. In fact so distracting was this idea that Krillin didn't even notice the two pool players as they came crashing in through the plate glass window with their pool cues protruding from some rather unnatural places.

Krillin resolved there and then that he would get to know 18 better... by any means necessary.

----------

By any means necessary; the words had given Krillin comfort at the time, but now that he sat atop the roof of Kame House staring down at the object of his affections, he had come to realise he had nothing to back them up.

As it stood, Yamcha was half right. Krillin technically wasn't 'going out' with Android 18. The arrangement they had was more probationary than anything else. Krillin had suspected at the outset that 18 had only agreed to this tentative relationship as a means to stop him from following her around like a lost puppy, but he had chosen not to look the gift horse in the mouth. Furthermore, he was pretty sure that from this improved position, he could really start to work those famous Krillin moves; i.e. the big sad eyes and whiney, pleading voice.

The relationship was still tenuous however, and as such Krillin was unwilling to risk probing into 18's past too keenly. And so he was left with a personal vow that he had no idea how to keep.

18 skipped another stone. Krillin watched as it raced across the azure waters until it became lost near the horizon. Again she skipped a stone, the grace of her action belying the terrifying power behind it. She was devastatingly beautiful, and beautifully devastating; perhaps it was this unique combination of qualities that had drawn Krillin to her in the first place. It certainly represented the extent of his knowledge about her.

Krillin was entranced by 18. So much so that he scarcely heard a word as she addressed him.

"What are you looking at?" she asked indignantly.

"I do..." Krillin replied from his fantasy world.

"You do what?"

"I do... I do?" The 10 15 train from dreamland pulled into reality, and Krillin disembarked. "Oh, I do. I do... uh... like your stone-throwing technique. I think you almost hit a cruise liner with that one." He followed this poor cover up with a nervous titter.

18's eyes narrowed. "Right," she said, then turned and raised a hand to skim yet another of the stones she had collected.

"Real smooth, Krillin," the little fighter rasped at himself.

18 skimmed the stone, and then plucked another from her left hand. However, just as she was about to hurl it into oblivion she stopped. Wincing slightly, she dropped the remaining stones and raised a hand to her left shoulder.

Taken with concern, Krillin leapt from the roof and dropped to the sand below.

"Are you alright?" he asked frantically as he rushed to 18's side.

18 paused tending to her shoulder, and looked down upon Krillin with an expression that the fighter was just about able to read as a mixture of surprise, confusion and contempt.

"It's nothing," she replied finally. "It's probably just a system glitch."

"A glitch?" Krillin echoed in horror as his mind filled with images of the 'glitches' suffered by a number of Dr Briefs' ill-fated inventions. Or, as the man himself put it, 'rapid spontaneous disassemblies'. "That doesn't look like nothing to me. Perhaps you should go and see Bulma about it."

"I'll be fine," 18 assured him sternly. "And besides, what do you care?"

"I care because you're my girlfriend, remember. Well, on a probationary basis anyway."

18 broke eye contact with Krillin. "Oh, right," she said. "Well your concern is unnecessary. There's nothing wrong with me." With that, she turned to walk away.

Suddenly there was a sound of metallic grinding, and 18 let out a muffled grunt of pain.

"Nothing wrong, huh?" said Krillin. "Sounds to me like you need go and see Bulma right away. She should be able to help. I'm pretty sure she still has the blueprints for Android 17 lying around some..." Krillin cut himself off.

He still wasn't sure just how sensitive a subject 18's late sibling was; this was yet another bit of intelligence he lacked. The comment passed undisputed however, and 18 made her way back to Kame House.

"Perhaps I do need some maintenance," she said as she walked away.

Feeling a little braver, Krillin called after her, "I think that'd be a good idea. Dr Krillin knows best!"

18 stopped, causing Krillin to freeze as he feared he may have overstepped the mark... again. She turned her head and stared pensively toward the ground as if trying to find the right words with which to dress him down.

Finally, she spoke. "Thank you... for your concern."

Krillin stood dumbstruck for a moment before realising that 18 was becoming impatient for a response.

"Uh, no problem," he said.

18 walked the rest of the way to the house and disappeared through the door. As soon as she was gone, Krillin made his feelings known.

"Yes!"

-----------

Krillin looked down the path towards the collection of towering domes that was Capsule Corp. The smallest of these domes lay directly ahead - the home of the extended Briefs family, and his and 18's destination.

He looked up at 18, who was stood at his side. Krillin had been rather surprised when 18 had asked for him to accompany her. Of course, she had voiced her request in the most grudging manner possible, but Krillin was quite sure she really did want him there. His theory had been given further credence by the fact that now they had arrived, 18 did not set off down the path to the front door, but instead just stood and stared intensely at the profusion of pastel-coloured domes ahead. If he didn't know better, Krillin would have thought 18 was a little scared. Perhaps this was a clue to her past life. Maybe she had once been afraid of going to the dentist, or had a latent fear of needles.

Again, Krillin didn't want to jeopardise his position by voicing his wild speculations. Instead, he chose a little gentle goading.

"So uh, are you coming?" he asked, placing a foot forwards.

18 shot him and angry glance, causing him to rapidly retract the foot.

"Okay, we're waiting here then," He conceded.

So there they stood, staring at the domes. Staring. Staring. Staring some more.

Just as Krillin thought he would have to set up camp for the night, a voice rang out across the sun bathed lawn. "Yoo-hoo! Krillin! Over here, Krillin dear!"

Krillin looked across the garden to see Bulma's mother, Mrs Briefs, peering round the side of the building through unnaturally smiling eyes.

"Oh, hey there Mrs Briefs!" Krillin called back. "It's good to see you!"

"It's good to see you too, dear," she replied, though Krillin was sceptical as to whether she could see anything at all. "Why are you standing all the way over there? Come on over and have some lemonade with us."

"Be right there," said Krillin. He turned to 18. "So, are you gonna come and get some lemonade? You must be as parched as I am."

Another angry glance.

"Guess not. Well, you just come on over when you're ready."

With that, Krillin made his way across the garden, casting the occasional concerned glance over his shoulder at 18, who remained rooted to the spot, until she disappeared out of view behind the house.

To the rear of the house Krillin found Bulma and Dr Briefs sat at a garden table, with Mrs Briefs tending to their empty glasses and the boisterous toddler Trunks galloping around nearby, chasing butterflies with all the menacing intent one might come to expect from a Saiyan.

"Hi Krillin," Bulma said cheerfully. "Come on over here and join us." She gestured to an empty chair.

"Thanks." Krillin replied uncertainly, and walked over to take a seat.

No sooner had he done so, he found a full glass of lemonade stood before him.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure," Dr Briefs asked as he held up his glass for Scratch to lap from.

"Um, I kinda wanted to ask a favour," replied Krillin, staring awkwardly into his lap. "I mean, if that's okay."

"Sure, Krillin," said Bulma. "What can we do for you?"

Krillin began to fidget.

"Well, it's not really me. It's 18."

"Well, where she?" Bulma asked.

"I think she's still out front. She was a bit... uh... apprehensive," Krillin said, choosing his words carefully.

"Oh, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," Dr Briefs reassured him. "Now tell me, what seems to be the trouble?"

"Well, she seems to be having some problems. She tried to tell me what she thought it might be on the way over here, but I didn't really understand what she was talking about."

"O-o-o-h," said Dr Briefs knowingly. "Those kinds of problems, huh? Say, maybe 18 should come back here and talk to Bulma and her mother while us guys go some place else."

Krillin frowned quizzically. "What?" Then he realised what the aged inventor was getting at. "No, no, not those kinds of problems. I mean technology stuff."

"Oh, right." Dr Briefs said, blushing with embarrassment.

"Sure, we can help with that," said Bulma. "But 18 will have to come back here and tell us what's wrong first."

"I don't know about that. To be honest she seemed a bit nervous, scared even."

"Who seemed scared?" there came a stern voice.

Krillin looked over his shoulder, and then toppled from his chair with fright to see 18 stood right behind him.

"Hi 18," Bulma smiled. "Krillin was just telling us you were having problems with some of your systems. You know, it shouldn't be a problem for us to fix you up. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid," 18 replied, casting a disdainful glare down at a prostrate Krillin.

"Well then, take a seat young lady and tell us what seems to be the problem," said Dr Briefs.

18 pulled up a seat - the seat in which Krillin had been sitting - and almost immediately, a fourth glass of lemonade appeared on the table.

Krillin thought it best if he remained where he was for now, for the sake of his health.

What ensued was a conversation that Krillin could ill understand, filled with words like servo, semiconductor and Heisenberg compensators, and punctuated by Mrs Briefs offering to refill glasses and fetch cakes and biscuits. Eventually the torrent of techno-babble ebbed, and Krillin hauled himself to his feet.

"To be honest," said Bulma. "I kind of expected something like this to happen. You must have suffered some pretty serious wear and tear during that whole Cell thing alone. In fact Vegeta told me that you and he once went a couple of rounds. I hope he wasn't too hard on you."

18 stared back at Bulma with something like confusion.

Krillin gave a knowing smirk. He had to remember to ask Bulma what version of the story she'd been given.

"Well, I'd recommend a complete systems overhaul," said Dr Briefs.

Krillin spotted that same look on 18's face that she had had when she first arrived at Capsule Corp.

"Gee, are you sure about that Dad," asked Bulma. "It would mean an almost complete dismantling of 18's infrastructure."

18's expression lost a little of its subtlety.

"Oh sure," he smiled. "It won't be hard. We can use my new laser deconstruction system. It needs a bit of a test run."

A little bit more subtlety left 18's face.

"That's a little risky, Dad. I think we should try the atomic..."

"Okay," Krillin interjected loudly so as to spare 18 any further discomfort. "Maybe we should discuss the details a little later."

"Yeah, you're right," Bulma conceded. "We shouldn't be talking shop on a weekend. Still, it's pretty exciting to have this opportunity, 18."

"It is," 18 replied, her voice a mixture of curiosity and mild concern.

"Oh sure," Bulma enthused. "It's not every day a gal gets to look around inside a state-of-the-art android. In fact with the right equipment and Dr Gero's blueprints, I could probably get to know you better than you know yourself."

This, alas, gave Krillin an idea. It was just the opportunity he had been looking for.

"Say guys," he said. "Why don't I do it?"

A deadly silence fell upon the garden, broken only by Mrs Briefs' quiet utterance. "Oh my..."

Then, after a short time, Bulma began to laugh.

"Hey, that's pretty funny Krillin," she chuckled. "You really had us going there for a second."

"Yes,"18 sneered. "Very funny."

Krillin was dismayed by their reaction, as it would only make things more difficult.

"No you guys, I'm serious," he pleaded.

"Oh come now young man, don't be silly," Dr Briefs chortled. "This kind of work requires years of experience and state-of-the-art technology, not to mention degrees in each of the major sciences and a diploma in interior decorating."

"Yeah, Krillin," added Bulma. "You could end up doing more harm than good."

"Oh come one, guys," Krillin begged. "I promise I'll be careful." He then turned to 18, who's expression said far more than the arguments of the others. "All I want is a chance to find out a little more about you. Is that so much to ask?"

"I'm sorry, Krillin," Bulma said having adopted a more serious tone. "But that's out the question."

"Yes, it would just be too risky for a layperson to attempt something like that," Dr Briefs concurred. "It would be foolhardy."

Krillin's head sank into his shoulders, and his heart into his chest.

"I think it's sweet," there came a sympathetic voice.

Krillin looked up. It was Mrs Briefs. Bulma's unfeasibly youthful mother placed her tray of lemonade and glasses upon the table and stated her case. "All Krillin wants is to know a little bit more about his young lady friend, and I for one think that's very sweet. It would be nice if all men were so sensitive and considerate."

Dr Briefs' face reddened slightly.

"We appreciate the sentiment Mom," said Bulma. "But the fact is the whole idea is just plain crazy. And besides, I hardly think it makes for a healthy relationship when a man dismembers his girlfriend."

"Oh nonsense, dear," Mrs Briefs replied. "You and Vegeta have a lovely relationship, and he threatens to dismember you all the time."

"That's not the same thing, Mother," Bulma snapped. "At least he never actually does it!"

"Maybe so, but I still think Krillin deserves a chance. But then, that's not for any of us to say. The decision should 18's." Mrs Briefs smiled down disarmingly upon the android. "What would you like to do, dear?"

18 looked down into her lap. This wasn't the first time she had found her fate in the hands of others and now, as before, she seemed to have little idea of how to deal with the situation. She didn't do helplessness.

"Come on 18," Krillin said gently. "It won't take long, and I'll have Bulma here to help me. And besides, I think it'll be good for... y'know... us. Wha'd'y'say, huh?"

Big, sad eyes: Check.

Whiney, pleading voice: Check.

"Pleeeeeaaaaase..."

18's furrowed brow twitched beneath the expectant gaze of the four onlookers as she pondered this somewhat peculiar dilemma. After some silent deliberation, she gave her answer. "Fine. But only on one condition."

"Name it," Krillin enthused.

"You have to quit bothering me. If I hear that whiney, pleading voice one more time you'll be the one with the dismantled infrastructure."

Krillin backed off slightly.

"Oh, okay," he said meekly. "No more pleading. Got it."

"Well then, I guess it's settled," Bulma sighed, rising from her chair. "Though I can't say I think this is a good idea. Come on, I suppose I'd better take you to the lab."

"Thanks Bulma," Krillin grinned.

18 said nothing. She just stood up and followed as Bulma made for one of the larger domes to the rear of the Briefs' sizeable back yard. Her look was one of forced aloofness, the expression of one who was about to make a sacrifice for the greater good.

Just as Krillin was passing by Dr Briefs, the wizened scientist placed a staying hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck son," he said gravely. "You're going to need it."

"Hey, don't worry doc," said Krillin, still buoyant from his little victory. "It's not like I'm going to fight Cell or anything. All I have to do is follow the blueprints and everything will be fine."

Dr Briefs' brow furrowed. "I wasn't talking about the repairs."

Krillin stared puzzled into the doctor's eyes awaiting some explanation, but none came. Dr Briefs just gave a nod and a knowing grunt, and allowed Krillin to go on his way with that ominous warning still ringing in his ears.

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all...