Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Some Disassembly Required ❯ Chapter2 ( Chapter 2 )

Bulma pressed the button on the wall of the dome, and the large metal door was drawn up into the masonry with a mechanised whirr.

"Well, here we are," she said, stepping across the threshold.

Her entry into the room was greeted by the buzz of the bar lights as they were activated automatically. This was followed by the loud hum of a computer cooling fan and the crackle of the great monitor unit that dominated the wall opposite.

"This is the main cybernetics lab," Bulma explained.

"Wow," Krillin uttered in quiet awe at his surroundings.

Every detail seemed to have been pulled from a science fiction movie, from the rows of blinking consoles that lined the walls, to the complex and imposing machinery that was suspended from the ceiling above a metal bed at the heart of the room.

"So this was the facility that was used to repair Android 16?" 18 asked.

"The very same," Bulma replied. "It's the best facility in the world for this sort of work." Then she sighed, and added, "In the right hands, anyway."

Krillin frowned at Bulma's backhanded comment. It was clear that she still strongly disapproved of what was happening, but Krillin was willing to let her comment pass. He was getting his way after all.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he left Bulma and 18 to discuss some of the nuances of the procedure that was to follow and made an inspection of some of the computer equipment that was stood around the walls of the room. Each seemed more complicated and impressive than the last, towering over the fighter and glaring down upon him with rows of bright, blinking eyes.

"Hey Krillin," Bulma called. "You know, you really should be listening to this."

Krillin wasn't listening. Craning his neck, he examined one of the more-gaudy computer displays.

"This place is really something," said Krillin mused. "Say, what does this button do?"

Krillin reached for a large, yellow button that was winking at him invitingly.

"Don't touch that!" Bulma yelled.

Krillin's finger stopped millimetres from the button. "Why? Is it dangerous or something?"

"Yes, it's dangerous," Bulma replied indignantly. "That is, unless you're getting tired of living life with all four of your limbs."

"Nyeuhhh!" Krillin whipped his hand away from the console, and slowly backed off.

Bulma sighed wearily, and turned to 18.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" she asked.

Krillin furrowed his brow in annoyance. Bulma, it seemed, was still intent on torpedoing his efforts to get closer to 18. He wasn't going to give up without a fight however. He had squared up to more powerful foes than her, even if they hadn't been quite as scary.

"If you don't want to go through with it, that's okay with me," Krillin sighed melodramatically. "I guess I'll just have to nurse you back to health the old fashioned way, even if it will take a lot longer."

18's eyes widened.

"Oh, don't listen to him," Bulma said, waving away Krillin's lament like a tennis player returning a weak service. "My Dad and I would be only too happy to perform the procedure."

18 opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off as Krillin unleashed his return. "Don't listen to her, 18," he said, darting in front of his opponent. "Who better to look after you than your own boyfriend?"

"This isn't just some common cold, Krillin! 18 has a fracture in her left bilateral servo unit. The whole thing needs to be replaced."

"Oh come on, Bulma. How hard could it possibly be to replace a left biblical service unit?"

"It's a left bilateral… agh, this is ridiculous. You can't expect a total layperson to be able to perform this operation with a spanner and an instruction manual."

"I wasn't gonna use a spanner!"

"Then what's that behind your back?"

Krillin's face reddened and he dropped the spanner to the ground. He really had to learn not to fiddle with things he found lying around.

18's eyes moved back to Bulma in anticipation of the winning shot.

"Now why don't you just go home and leave this to the professionals?"

Krillin, all but defeated, looked down to his feet. Then, out of nowhere came his searing reply. With eyes wide and dewy, and bottom lip quivering, he looked straight at 18.

"Please?"

The look of horror that spread across 18's face looked set to peel the synthetic flesh from her metal infrastructure.

"Okay," she relented, averting her eyes. "You can perform the repairs. Just... stop looking at me."

Krillin smirked slyly. Game, set and match.

"You CANNOT be serious," Bulma cried, then folded her arms and gave a grudging huff. "Okay, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Hey, don't sweat it Bulma," said Krillin. "Everything will be just fine, right 18?"

There was no response.

Krillin looked up at his girlfriend, only to find her staring vacantly into space. "18?"

Bulma came over to investigate for herself.

"Interesting," she said as she waved a hand in front of 18's blank face. "It looks like she's put herself in standby mode."

"Standby mode," echoed Krillin, giving the android a tentative prod in the arm. "Why would she do that?"

"Gee, I have no idea," Bulma replied sardonically. "Come on Krillin, we'd better get her up on the table." With that Bulma placed her hands on 18's shoulders and gently leaned her forwards.

Krillin trotted around to 18's feet and carefully pulled them up from the floor. The task was made easier by the fact that 18's body had seized up completely when she had entered standby mode - it was like lifting a two hundred pound plank of wood.

"Say, Krillin," Bulma hissed through grimacing teeth. "When this is all over, maybe you should tell 18 to cut down on the motor oil."

Krillin was impressed. In one sentence, Bulma had insulted his girlfriend's weight and nature, and had suggested that he commit suicide.

After some grunting, sweating and swearing, Bulma finally manoeuvred her end of the android onto the table at the centre of the room. Krillin did likewise. As he looked into Bulma's moist, reddened face, he was reminded of the benefits of ki enhanced strength.

"Okay," Bulma sighed after regaining her breath. "I think we're ready to go." With that, she placed her hand beneath the edge of the table and pressed a hidden button.

A whirring sound began to emanate from the table, and then two arced consoles emerged from its sides. The panels slowly moved over 18's petrified body, stopping about a couple of feet short of one another. There was a brief pause followed by a sudden fizz as a holographic image leapt into the space between the consoles. The flickering, yellow-tinged display depicted a maze of labelled pathways and conduits, doubtless the incomprehensibly complex innards of the prostrate android.

"This," Bulma beamed proudly. "Is the Self-Maintaining Automatic Semi-Human Endoframe Reconstitutor."

Krillin cocked an eye brow. "Huh?"

"The Self-Moderating Automatic Semi-Human Endoframe Reconstitutor," Bulma repeated. "But we call her the SMASHER for short."

Krillin gave an almost inaudible whine.

"My dad and I built her specifically to work on advanced cybernetics. It took years of labour and almost the whole annual turnover of Capsule Corp. to bring this beauty to life. It's totally, completely and utterly irreplaceable."

"Oh," Krillin said. He suspected this monologue was a last ditch attempt to unnerve him from his task. It was working.

"But I'm sure you don't want to hear about any of that," Bulma remarked accurately. "Let me show you how to fire her up." She walked up to one of the consoles and leaned up against it. With a speed that even Krillin's well-trained eye could scarcely track Bulma keyed a number of impossibly complex commands into a glowing keypad, and then watched as a stream of information raced across an adjacent screen. "Well, that should do it," she said after a time. "All you need to do now is press the red button." Bulma gestured to the offending button that lay at the heart of the table console.

"And, er, then what?" Krillin asked.

"And then the machine will start."

"The machine will start what?"

"The machine will start taking 18 apart."

"What?!" barked Krillin, but his exclamation fell upon deaf ears.

"Of course once the process is finished, you'll be on your own with the repairs," Bulma said as she made her way to the door. Suddenly, she seemed to be taking some perverse pleasure in watching Krillin squirm. "Dr Gero's blueprints are in that draw over there. And remember, me and my dad will be here if you need any help." With that Bulma disappeared out of the lab. The door dropped down behind her, and she was gone.

Krillin stood, teeth gritted and heart pounding, staring into the abyss of a blind panic. Though he had often daydreamed of single-handedly dismantling one of the Z-fighters' most powerful enemies, this hadn't been exactly what he had in mind. As far as he had been concerned, all that had been required was a quick procedure to fix a minor problem - an easy means by which to gain 18's trust. But nobody had said anything about completely dismantling her. Or if they had, Krillin either hadn't been listening or just hadn't understood. The more he thought about it, the more overwhelming it was.

"Who am I kidding?" he muttered to himself. "I can't do this." With that, he took a step towards the door.

Then he stopped. In a flash of realisation, he could see what was going on. Bulma's apparent change of heart; her enthusiasm to reveal the extent of the work put into the machinery; the unfortunate and blatantly contrived acronym; it had all been aimed at deterring him from his mission. Doubtless it was all just one great work of fiction designed to throw him off, and in reality the whole process would be quite straight forward, as long as he followed the blueprints.

Krillin didn't know what Bulma's problem was, but she wasn't fooling anybody.

"Nice try Bulma," he muttered, and turned back to the table where 18 lay and approached one of the consoles. The start button was still flashing, beckoning Krillin to set off down a path from which there could be no turning back.

Before he could draw another breath he thrust his palm down upon the button. The button stopped flashing, and an eerie silence descended over the room. Suddenly there was a loud clunk, and then a massive apparatus began to descend from the ceiling above 18. Krillin backed off instinctively as the great forest of mechanical arms and laser-tipped spires, capped by a thick bramble of cables descended to within a couple of feet of the android. The process was about to begin.

Now there really was no turning back. And all the better, Krillin assured himself. This had been what he wanted after all. He would get to know 18 better, if it took three hours, three days, or three years.

----------

It had been three hours - exactly how long it had taken to Krillin to overcome his bashfulness and relieve 18 of her clothing. Or at least, what was left of her clothing. Good old SMASHER had been somewhat indiscriminate about what she had dismembered when she had dismembered it.

Again Krillin was confronted with the theme of daydreams inaccurately realised.

Nonetheless, now that the noisy business of the dismantling had been completed he was free to set to his task. If only he could work out what that was. In his hands Krillin held Dr Gero's original blueprints for android 17. Unfortunately, he had only begun to realise now that they would only be useful if 18 and 17 were of an identical design. And if he could work out which way up they went.

Krillin turned the sprawling schematic through ninety degrees for a fourth time, bringing it back to where it had started.

"Oh, man," Krillin whined despairingly. "This is nuts. I can't read this."

So far, all he had been able to recognise were the copyright information and a faded coffee stain. Everything else made about as much sense as one of Goku's custom pizza toppings, and it was starting to make him feel just as sick.

Krillin scoured the plans for a starting point. After some moments, he found something comprehensible.

"In case of fault, contact manufacturer. Any tampering with the product will void the warranty... oh." Krillin looked across at the fruit of his tampering. "Guess I've burned that bridge, huh?" With a forlorn sigh, Krillin set back to making sense of the blueprints.

After a few minutes of squinting and muttering, Krillin's concentration was broken by the sound of the lab door rolling up. Looking up he was almost blinded by the sunlight that streamed into the relatively murky lab. There was stood Bulma, surrounded by radiant light and shaking her head disapprovingly like the angel of condescension.

Krillin's eyes narrowed. He knew what was coming.

"Hello Bulma," he said coolly.

Bulma ignored this tepid greeting. "I see you haven't made much progress," she observed as she strode into the lab, mug of coffee in hand. She stepped up to the table where much of 18's dismantled body lay and leaned over to inspect the damage. As she did so, she held out the steaming mug of coffee towards Krillin. "Still, I suppose you're a little further along than I expected. A least you managed to get her clothes off." Bulma glanced up into space. "Never thought I'd hear myself say that," she muttered.

Krillin didn't catch that less than subtle snipe. He was too busy being surprised by Bulma's peace offering. Slowly he reached out for the big, warm, inviting mug of coffee. Then, just as he could feel the warmth radiating into the tips of his fingers, his prize was whipped from his grasp.

Bulma took a long, savouring sip of her coffee. "Mmmmm," she purred.

Krillin's mouth fell open, and a tear welled up in his eye.

"So, do you need any help?" asked Bulma. "You know, I could give you some advice that would really speed things up."

"No, thank you," Krillin said indignantly. "It just so happens I want to take my time over this."

Bulma cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yes," Krillin replied, and closed his eyes as he adopted a feigned tone of self assuredness. "At the moment I'm still in the preliminary stages. You know, making notes and diagrams, and technical stuff like that." He gestured to a note pad that lay open on the table beside 18's disembodied head.

Bulma picked it up and examined the first page. All she found were couple of illegible doodles and an incomplete game of tic-tac-toe. "Notes and diagrams, huh?" she drawled.

"I said it was preliminary," said Krillin.

Then, to Krillin's horror, she turned the page. There, inscribed so strongly upon the paper that it had cut through it in places was a crude caricature of Bulma. The portrait possessed a pair of angry, crossed eyes, a set of bat-like wings and a serpentine tail, and was captioned 'The Eternal Dragon'. Bulma stared at the drawing for a moment. "Krillin," she said, finally. "This is the worst picture of Shenron I've ever seen."

Krillin breathed a sigh of relief. His complete lack of artistic talent had just saved his life.

"Listen Krillin, I'm all for you trying to help out 18," Bulma said, placing the pad on the table. "But if you're just gonna screw around then I'm taking over this project myself."

"No!" Krillin barked in protest.

"I'm sorry, Krillin. But having this lab running is a drain on resources, and I can't allow it to carry on if things aren't getting done."

"But things are getting done. Well, things are about to get done. That is, they were right before you got here." Krillin calmed himself, and cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I was just about to commence the procedure when you arrived."

"Really?" Bulma chortled.

Krillin didn't appreciate the patronising look of amusement he was getting. He half expected Bulma to follow up with 'Aw, he thinks he's people'.

"Yes really. So, if you don't mind." With that, Krillin trotted over to Bulma, placed both hands firmly against her back and began to push her towards the door.

"Hey!" Bulma barked as her piping hot coffee almost leapt from its mug. "What do you think you're doing? This is my lab, remember?"

"And this is my project," Krillin replied.

Bulma stepped clear of Krillin's hands. "Alright, fine! But if you run in to trouble, don't come crying to me. You're on your own." With that Bulma stormed out of the lab, mumbling expletives as she went. The door closed behind her, and Krillin was left alone once again... sort of.

"Geez, I thought she'd never leave," Krillin sighed.

Though he felt a measure of relief at Bulma's departure, the gravity of her words had not been lost on him. He was on his own now. But this only served to galvanise his determination to get the job done.

Krillin knelt, and lifted a screw driver from the floor. He looked at it for a moment, then took a deep breath and slowly approached 18.

----------

Krillin yawned, and stretched his arms out. The humming of the surrounding computers was having an almost hypnotic effect on the fighter. Once his thirst for air had been satiated Krillin reached for the screwdriver once more, but gasped as his careless hand brushed a screw from the table. The tiny metal object plummeted to the ground and skittered across the tiled floor, ringing happily as it made its bid for freedom.

"Not so fast little guy," Krillin called as he leapt from the stool he pulled over to the work table, and pursued the screw across the room. Reaching out with both hands he prepared to make the catch. "I've got you now..."

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and a sharp pain spread across the fighter's head. Yelping and falling back onto his hind quarters, Krillin clasped his hands across his head and grimaced with discomfort. The pain quickly subsided though, and he opened his dewy eyes just in time to see the little screw disappear beneath a large computer console, the front panel of which bore a distinctly head-shaped dent.

"Oh man," Krillin lamented.

Standing up, he sighed and rubbed his still slightly throbbing head. He then turned back to the table. There lay 18's components in no particular order, some on the table, others hanging off, and a few scattered about the floor below.

Slowly and despairingly, Krillin trudged back to the table and dumped himself back onto the stool. Leaning forwards he strained his eyes at the schematic that lay partially buried beneath a heap of 18's mechanical innards. But it was to no avail. The dim light and his tired eyes conspired to prevent him from reading what little of the blueprints he could understand.

"This is hopeless," he sighed. "I can't repair 18. I can't even work out how to use the darned light fittings in this place."

What had begun as an ill advised attempt to learn more about his girlfriend had quickly developed into one of the worst experiences of his life. Krillin had fought - and been killed by - hell's fiercest demons, and he had taken on - and been killed by - maniacal alien warlords, but none of that compared to this. The agony; the horror; the sheer soul-crushing despair were proving just too much for the crestfallen fighter. And that was just from dealing with Bulma. But he had to carry on, and carry on he would. Not for Bulma's sake, and not for his own, but for 18. She deserved a man who new what she needed and could provide her with just that.

Krillin's self-pity was interrupted by a shrill rapping on the door, which in turn was followed by an equally shrill voice.

"Hello, Krillin? Are you in there?"

Krillin sighed. He recognised that voice.

"I really don't need this right now," he said despairingly.

There was some angry muttering, and then a startled gasp as the lab door clunked into motion. The barrier rose into the wall, revealing Chi Chi with a young Gohan at her side and the sleeping baby Goten in her arms.

"I don't know," Chi Chi said, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Why does Bulma have to make everything so difficult to use?"

"Beats me, Mom," Replied Gohan, his voice carrying the monotonous tone of a conditioned response. This was a sure sign that he was practising a fine art that only he and his father had ever perfected - tuning out Chi Chi.

"Oh, hi there Chi Chi," said Krillin, almost having to power up in order to force a smile onto his face. "Hey there, Gohan. What a surprise."

"Hey, Krillin," Gohan called back.

"Hello, Krillin," Chi Chi replied also, cutting off Gohan as he had opened his mouth to speak again. "Bulma said we'd find you back here."

"Is that right?" Krillin said. Suddenly, it was all becoming clear.

"Yes. She said you were working on something interesting, so I thought I'd come and see how you were doing."

Though Krillin was a little exasperated by Chi Chi's busy-body nature, he could understand it. In the end, the poor woman was a pitiable character for whom being widowed was fast becoming a frequent and annoying inconvenience. Worse yet, it seemed that every time Goku made a bolt the next dimension he left Chi Chi with yet another mouth to feed and to raise on her own. All this, heaped on the shoulders of a woman who was highly strung at the best of times. It was hardly surprising that she often seemed more concerned with other people's business than her own.

"So, what are you up to?" she asked, craning her neck at the far side of the lab.

Krillin sighed. "Come on over and I'll show you."

Chi Chi did not need asking twice. Quickly she shuffled across the room to see what was going on. Upon arriving she peered over Krillin's shoulder and began to scan around the table.

"So, um…" Krillin dithered, uncomfortable with Chi Chi's proximity. "As you can see, I'm, uh, just performing some routine maintenance for 18. You know, tighten a screw here, oil a hinge there…"

"Oh, so this is 18?" Chi Chi asked.

Krillin's eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure he liked the tone of Chi Chi's voice, as it had lightened significantly upon her hearing that it was 18 that lay dismantled before her. Apparently she had yet to get over the whole programmed-to-kill-Goku thing.

"Yes," Krillin replied cautiously.

"And you're just making some repairs?"

"Ye-e-s…"

"So, while you make those repairs, you could just… say… make a few modifications? Just to make her … oh, I don't know… a little less… antisocial?"

"No!" Krillin exclaimed. "I can't mess with her programming. That'd be wrong. And besides,18's okay now. She promised she was going to stop being a sociopath."

"Okay, okay," Chi Chi placated him. "I was just asking." Then, carefully shifting the napping Goten onto her hip, she returned her attention to the contents of the tabletop. "So," she began, picking up a small metal coil. "What does this do?"

Krillin plucked it from between her fingers. "Please don't touch anything," he pleaded. "It's all very delicate and very important." Or at least, he thought it might be.

Chi Chi huffed indignantly. "Fine," she said. "But I don't know why you're being so uptight."

Krillin was sure there was an old saying that applied here; something about pots and kettles, but he couldn't quite recall the whole thing.

"Come on Gohan, let's go. I think we'd better leave Krillin to his work."

Gohan wasn't paying attention.

"Come along, Gohan."

"Mom," Gohan said pensively, and then pointed to something on the floor. "What's that?"

"What's wha…" Chi Chi stopped mid-sentence and gasped in horror, her face flushing bright red. Hurriedly, she turned her back and placed her free hand over Gohan's eyes.

"Hey," the young half-Saiyan barked.

Krillin looked down at the floor to see what all the commotion was about, only to find some rather sensitive components lying exposed near the base of his stool. He hastily dismounted his perch and began to try and cover up the offending bits-and-pieces using what little remained of 18's clothes.

"Krillin, how could you," Chi Chi complained. "Leaving such things out where impressionable young minds can see them. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Evidently, someone had yet to be given `the talk'.

She then began to march back to the door, gasping and muttering with outrage as she went. Gohan made some confused protests, but there was nothing that could stand in the way of an offended Chi Chi. The family soon disappeared into the outside world, and the door shut behind them.

Krillin sighed deeply, and fell to the ground in a seated position with his back against the base of the table. He sat there for a moment and contemplated his situation. Then, realising that thinking about it would only depress him more he lifted himself to his feet and returned to the stool.

As he looked across the table filled with various anonymous components, his eyes came into contact with those of 18's disembodied head.

"So, what do you think I should do?" he asked. He paused for the reply, then said, "No, me either." With that, he allowed his head to fall into his folded arms. "This couldn't possibly get any worse."

----------

Tune in next time to see things get worse!