Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Stormy Bond ❯ Epilouge ( Chapter 7 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

They aren’t mine. Still.



"Was’t well done?"
"Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free." –Ariel and Prospero (5.1.)
While the excitement about the Prince’s heir had died down, and things seemed to be settling in their natural order of things… more or less, the doctor still had one last item of business.
On the bridge of the ship he found them, standing, looking bored, and watching the comings and goings of command.
"I suppose your side of the bargain has been completed…" he said softly standing before them. "and as such…"
"Yes, yes," 17 said. "Was it all to your liking?"
"Indeed, there is very little I would change, though at the time…" he frowned remembering the emotional roller-coaster ride of the last day or two. "Then I owe you a ship…" he looked around. "I don’t seem to have one handy at the moment, but I’m sure once we arrive of Vegetasei…"
"That won’t be necessary…" 18 said.
"Just two of your pods should do." 17 finished.
"Very well…" Briefs said slowly. "I was wondering if… well, what you planned on doing with your freedom?"
"I was considering going into shipping. Something with business…" 18 said.
"I’m with her, only I think I’ll just be traveling and doing the tourist thing. I never did get into that who productive life-style thing. But my sister… she really gets off on the money and power."
He didn’t know if they were joking or not…
"And… do you think you’ll be… ripping off many more heads?" he finally worked up the courage to ask, just before they walked out the door.
"No way. It’s too messy." 17 said with a smirk and left, his sister following after a quick wink in the doctors direction.
For some reason… he had a good feeling about those two. And if they only killed those like Frieza… Trunks Briefs decided finally take his wife’s advice. He left that part of the universe on someone else’s shoulders and let it rest. He needed a break.
"Now I want spirits to enforce, art to enchant; and my ending is dispair unless I be relieved by prayer, which pierces so, that is assaults mercy itself, and frees faults. As your from crimes would pardoned be, let your indulgence set me free." – Prospero (Epilouge)