Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Hybrid ❯ Fuel to the Fire ( Chapter 22 )

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

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ...Akira Toriyama does...and that's not my name...so bad luck for me.

Chapter 22

Her first thought when she was finally able to match a face to the voice that had dictated her every move over the past twelve years was- He could be anyone's grandpa. She doubted very much that she'd have spared him a moment's glance out on the streets.

But what was she honestly expecting? Maybe someone a little less rundown and with fewer gray hairs, a guy better fitting of the role of 'The Doctor' and the father of a DemiSaiyan. The short, rumpled man sitting behind the cluttered desk was more easily lumped into the bookwormish, college professor category.

He was ordinary.

Chichi expected to feel a little bit of intimidation, but it was more like commiseration. It took no convincing at all to find level ground with the person gazing at them from that cramped little office. She softly squeezed Kakarrot's shoulder and he let her slide off his back and into one of the various chairs propped up around the room. He was silent as he stepped around her and sank into another behind her. The air in the room was heavy with anticipation and Chichi knew that she wasn't the only one present holding his or her breath. A cursory glance would give the impression that they were all going jump a mile when he finally did speak.

The withered man on the screen took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then released it as an audible sigh. "I'm not going to begin by thanking you for coming, because honestly, you wouldn't be here if it weren't for me."

Chichi blinked and felt more than a few stares around the room harden angrily. Oh boy.

The Doctor sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "Now, I know that this movement might have come about eventually, as all those oppressed find their legs to fight back, but without the initiative from my work I doubt it would have come about in time. This wasn't a notion that developed over time, but within the span of mere moments nearly twelve years ago when I thought I had lost everything precious to me at the hands of a madman." He scrubbed a hand over his face and shrugged. "It goes without saying that I was royally pissed, and that rage was the only thing that kept me going while I slaved away in his laboratories, patiently building the foundations of a new beginning." Sitting forward on his elbows, he smiled grimly. "A beginning only a select few will have the honor of putting into to motion." He pointed at the group staring back at him. "You are those select few."

So it was severely lacking in the inspirational department; it didn't stop her from holding her breath in anticipation. It was finally time to take back what had so long been denied to them, but there was always one bad apple in the bunch. "So what exactly does this 'beginning' entail for us?" Everyone turned to glare at Turles, who merely shrugged and raised his brows awaiting an answer.

The Doctor looked on unperturbed. "Turles, I presume?" He shook his head grimly when the Saiyan nodded. "I should've guessed. No one else could possibly be that jaded."

The bounty hunter's jaw clenched and he spoke through clamped teeth. "You got a lot of nerve."

"Aye that I do." He agreed in a cheery voice.

"Why don't you just drop the whole high-and-mighty bakayaro routine and get the fuck down to business?" He didn't enjoy being made a fool, especially by one sitting so cozy halfway across the galaxy.

A shadow of a smile crept across Dr. Briefs face and vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. "Very well." He glanced off-screen, reaching out to tap a few keys on a non-visible console. "As Turles has so kindly mentioned, time is of the essence." He gestured toward the screen he was on. "I will be dividing this screen quarterly in order to bring in the other quadrant commanders."

Quadrant commanders? Chichi's brow furrowed quizzically and she leaned forward unknowingly in her eagerness. That's right! Krillin told me that there were four sections of the universe divided by their respective positions- North, South, East, and West. She watched intently as The Doctor's face downsized and shifted to occupy the upper-right hand corner of the screen. Simultaneously, the newly vacated spots blinked on and each was filled by three distinctly different countenances. As far as she could tell, two of them looked to be human while the third was of a race she'd never seen before.

Dr. Briefs gestured towards the others on the screen. "Now, I believe I have this correct- running top to bottom, of course. From the Eastern Quadrant is Yamcha, a Chikyuu-jin trader and former space bandit that I met some years ago. He's been traveling the galaxy for many years and has been one of the coalition's best recruiters."

He wore his hair long and tied at the nape of his neck. She could tell from his garb that he was some kind of merchant trader, as the Doctor had said, and looked no older than her. Like that means anything. She could make an example of what she was supposed to be and wasn't, and knew the same rules applied to him. Chichi caught his dark gaze wandering around the room and stopping to admire Juuhachi as she leaned against the wall beside her husband. She rolled her eyes. I can add one more occupation to his resume- lecher.

"Moving on to the Southern Quadrant, I'd like to introduce Yajirobe. He is also from Chikyuu, but when he was orphaned he took to thievery. He eventually had to vacate the planet to stay out of prison. I stumbled upon him while making a routine supply run and used his skills to aid in the espionage side of our work. He has been with me the longest of them and made himself a strong reputation among the ranks."

How such a grossly obese and untidy man got into a position of power was beyond him. It made sense that he'd only gotten there by riding on the coat-tails of the one running the show. Turles took in his unkempt attire and scraggly hair. A thief? No. He never would've guessed that in a million years. He sighed. So far the Chikyuu-jin scientist had employed three other Chikyuu-jins as his generals. If the green bugger on the end hadn't been glaring at them, he'd have been tempted to inquire about the good Doctor's racial preferences. Oh darn.

"And finally we get to the Western Quadrant." Dr. Briefs took a moment to take a breath and glance at the group listening on the other end of the transmission. Most were listening intently, but Turles and the dark-haired fellow beside him looked as if they were being tortured. Too bad. He cleared his throat. "I met him in the dungeons on the Imperial hub planet. I still to this day don't know the charge he was sentenced with, but it might have had something to do with the entire platoon of soldiers he took out. Piccolo is a Namekian warrior, a rare position among Namek's peaceful race. I'm sure they were glad to have him when their planet was invaded by Imperial forces. He managed to defeat them and Frieza had to send his trusty Zarbon to capture him." He sneered ever so slightly. "In retaliation, Frieza ordered the planet purged of all but its most important individuals."

Chichi watched his face as the Doctor spoke. Not once did it change. He maintained the same stare throughout, daring them to speak a word against him or even about him. His expression was empty, but he radiated an angry calm that she could sense regardless of where he physically stood. There was little doubt in her mind of his skill as a warrior.

The Doctor continued on. "These three, along with Krillin, are the leaders for the armies they've recruited with my help. The number of soldiers will not be an issue in this coming battle, but the strategy will." He pushed out of his seat and paced behind the desk. All he needed to do was stroke his chin and he'd look like every film portrayal of the 'Mad Scientist' character. "My followers all have the will and desire to be free of Frieza's reign, but they lack the skills to get them there." He stopped and turned toward the group listening patiently on Chikyuu. "I need for you to train my armies for battle."

Turles rolled his eyes. The ringleader was sending his lackeys to do all the grunt work. He pushed away from the wall to draw the attention to himself, tailing slithering out from around his waist to flick above his left shoulder. "What exactly does this training entail?"

For once the Doctor remained silent. It was Bardock that stepped forward to answer his query. "When the time comes, the battle will occur on the ground and in the air. These people need to be taught hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, and aerial tactics. We must bring them from uneducated rookies to experienced veterans in three months."

"Three months?" His disbelief was obvious. "How the hell do you expect us to train hundreds of thousands of soldiers, all that, in three months?"

Bardock was nonplussed by his tension. "You are a Saiyan warrior. If you cannot manage this simple task, then you don't deserve such a title."

Chichi noted Turles' stung reaction. There's something more behind that reply. She glanced back at Bardock and hopped to her feet. "How are we supposed to get access to these troops?"

The one-eyed Saiyan turned to acknowledge her. "We will be divided into groups of two and shipped out to our designated stations. Once there, you may approach your task in any manner you please."

It was Kakarrot's turn to object, although he managed to remain seated and calm. "We've been together for twelve years and now, when our bond is needed most, you're going to scatter us across the galaxy?"

Bardock met his son's gaze. "Yes. There is no other way."

"How do you know?"

The eldest Saiyan in the room sighed and crossed his arms, turning his eyes down to the floor. "That is the very thing I've spent the past three days debating on my own." He lifted his head and looked at each of his renegades in turn. "There is no easy way to win this war, and it is a war. If we wish to be successful in our efforts we must take advantage of our assets properly. In order to train the armies to the degree they'll need to be to defeat Frieza's soldiers, we must spread ourselves to where we are needed. If that means splitting up, then so be it." His tone overshadowed any attempts at objection. "No one said this was going to be easy and no one said you had to like it, but there is no other way."

Dr. Briefs couldn't help but smile. Bardock was a leader down to the very marrow of his bones. His crew heeded his word without comment because they too realized the logic. There was no disagreement because there was nothing to disagree about. It was a very wise choice on his own part to seek out Bardock again.

After letting his monologue sink in, Bardock cleared his throat to regain their attention. "I've also taken the time to decide who will be paired off with who and to which post you'll be sent."

Krillin finally spoke up from the desk chair he'd been occupying when they first arrived. "Chichi, you and Juunana are now to follow Bardock's orders." The two in question turned heavy gazes toward him. "You are no longer needed here on Chikyuu."

Kakarrot nudged Chichi's stiffened shoulders. "Hey, Bardock's not that bad. Sure he may be a total control freak, but he'll never steer you wrong."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence." Bardock rolled his eye. "I've divided you into pairs, constructed as such to combine strengths and weaknesses. It will create a better unit that way."

Turles growled softly. "Will you just get on with it already? Just spit them out."

"Kakarrot and Chichi will go to the Western Quadrant to aid Piccolo. Toma and I will go to the Eastern Quadrant and join Yamcha." Bardock stopped for a moment and turned a sly smile on his brother. "And Turles, my dear brother, you and Juunana will go to the Southern Quadrant and help out Yajirobe."

The Saiyan bounty hunter stared disdainfully. "Great." He slumped back against the wall. "Just wonderful."

Chichi sent a nervous glance at the screen and met the swirling eyes of the Namekian warrior staring back at her. How am I supposed to train troops when their commander scares the crap outta me?

On the desert planet

He had no idea where his brain had gone to, but it had certainly vacated his head when he decided to get involved with the DemiSaiyan. He already had enough problems on his plate without adding on a female head case.

He bent his elbow and lowered himself towards the floor. Sweat beaded on his high forehead and slid down his profile to drip off his straight nose. Bunching the muscles of his shoulders and triceps, he flexed for the 'up' phase of his one-handed pushup. Kicking up his heels, he flipped over his planted hand and landed squarely on his feet.

Had he really been so horny that he'd lost all semblance of control around her? Vegeta narrowed his eyes while gazing at nothing. She was not the first attractive female he'd shared close quarters with, and his resolve had been iron-clad. He blinked the salty sweat out of his eyes. The fact that their characters were entirely detestable may have contributed a small fraction, but not much. No. This time he'd pursued her in an almost obsessive compulsive manner. Neither one of his comrades took any notice of it, which was odd considering they paid very close attention to detail, but perhaps Raditz's need to see his relatives had shaded his senses.

He wasn't so sure about Nappa. He was beginning to doubt how demented the older Saiyan truly was.

Vegeta scrubbed a hand over his face and slung the sweat off the side. The bond between them was very strong. The power of it astounded him to an unnerving end. He hadn't marked her when he had so desperately chased her across the trade roads. That powerful a distraction could only prove to be a hindrance. He paced the glinting metal floor like a caged panther, tail swinging back in forth with agitation. Once again he'd allowed his control to slip and he'd succeeded in marking her, and the pull between them was stronger than before. He growled softly and quieted his thoughts, feeling her mind brush his.

He shut his eyes and focused on the images he was seeing. He was standing in a dank corridor with floors covered in rotting corpses. The slap of bare feet on concrete floor echoed around him and he turned nonchalantly to watch Bulma sprint towards him. He didn't move and didn't speak. She wouldn't hear him in her dream. The ragged smock hung off her emaciated frame in tatters and she fell. She didn't cry out, but it wasn't a graceful fall. She staggered to her feet and continued on; ignoring the fact she was running on the recently dead. He didn't follow her per se, but instead moved with her as if he was watching a film reel. He stayed just behind her as she skidded to a halt outside an enormous reinforced steel door. Bulma used every ounce of her weight and hauled the creaking door open. The shake of her hands was frantic and under the filth that coated her face, her expression was desperate. Vegeta's brow furrowed in confusion. She never acted like this...this irrational before. What could she possibly be after?

Bulma dashed through the door and he followed again. The blackness of the room was ominous and vibrations of evil shivered through the air. There was something hiding in the dark. The distraught woman held enough strength to kindle a small ball of energy and used it to guide her way in the dark. Only a few feet had passed before she gasped. Vegeta had to step up beside her to see what had caused the sound. A tall figure shrouded by the inky darkness stood just outside the small circle of light created by the ki. Bulma was suddenly shaking and crying silently as she stared into a pair of glowing red eyes. Vegeta blinked in astonishment. She wasn't a weeper. She suddenly froze, breathing included, and he turned to see what had caused it. The figure's long arm had extended into the light holding what looked like a ball of cloth. He looked closer and saw there was a small shape inside the cloth. He didn't get a chance to make conclusions before Bulma's inarticulate scream shot him backward.

He cleared his vision with a shake and found himself sitting on the floor of the training room. Pushing to his feet, he scanned the ship for her ki and found it restless in her quarters. She was dreaming. He sighed and settled himself. What that dream signified meant nothing to him and that was how he was going to handle it. Unless she decided to project it constantly, he'd refrain from approaching her about it. But he also knew that dreams powerful enough to be recurring weren't to be taken lightly.

He shook his head and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. Since he hadn't allowed her to mark him in turn, she wasn't privy to glimpse into his head without him dropping his shields. Which was a good thing considering how much time he needed to spend training and not battling her inside his head. Cracking his knuckles, he set about shadow boxing with an invisible opponent. It was one to the oldest training techniques he still kept in his repertoire of tricks. He increased his speed until it caused sweat to pour off his body. Shooting out his heel at the imaginary head, he leapt backwards and allowed himself to catch his wind.

He'd only kept the truly beneficial training techniques over the years, including ones he'd created when he wasn't spending his time in the infirmary. In truth, and it burned badly to admit, but most of his increased strength was the result of healing Frieza's numerous beating over the years. He'd spent any other time living in the training wing trying to relieve his burning hatred out on anyone ignorant to challenge him.

Vegeta waited until his heart rate had slowed and methodically started his stretches. The burn of his muscles was a welcomed sensation and he reveled in it. He was close to reaching his goal and it wouldn't take all that much to help push him over the threshold. It was similar to being unable to reach a glass on a shelf that was just that little bit too high. He hadn't been able to access his deepest strength in a fight, which it seemed was the only way he could get any closer to that elusive shelf of power. He needed a trigger to push him across it. He stood up straight and walked towards the door. Both of his soldiers lacked the necessary skills to challenge him anymore as his royal bloodline had finally come to the surface. He stepped out into the hall and paused. Bulma was strong, abnormally so for a hybrid, and he took a moment to think.

Bulma's mother, Sleeka, had been a member of a Saiyan clan distantly connected to the royal family. His own Kaasan had in fact come from that very same clan. It was a custom to take females from those bloodlines because of their strength. Sleeka had been the exception rather the rule, but it seemed that the strength she hadn't been blessed with had been passed down to her daughter. It only made sense that a descendant of that particular line would end up bonded to him. He started up the corridor towards his quarters. It also helped that her temper was as volatile as his; picking a fight would be child's play.

He strode past the galley on his way his room and spotted his old commander eating. He stopped in the doorway and scrutinized the Saiyan. "Nappa, did you finish the maintenance on the ship's engines?"

The hulking man looked up from his food and met his gaze. "Yes, sire."

Vegeta thought he detected the faintest touch of distaste in his answer, but decided not to point it out. "Very well." He waited until the Saiyan turned back to his food before continuing on his way. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed that Nappa had become even more reclusive than before. He hardly caught a glimpse of him anymore and his actions were more robotic than usual. Why would he have reason to change? As far as he knew, Dodoria had made the old General a subject of his attention and in doing so, eroded what mind he had. Up until recently Nappa had needed the ki-collar to keep him subdued when they weren't purging planets.

Perhaps it was the females that were bothering the lumbering oaf? Nappa seemed to avoid the both of them as if they were contagious with plague. Interesting, I'll have to find out what Raditz thinks of this. He sighed and stopped before the door to his quarters. What would it really hurt to add another stick to the fire?

A/N: I know I've taken an extra long time to update, and I also know that this is somewhat of a short chapter. This is the second in a trio of somewhat, filler-esqe chapters that will pass quickly to some new surprises. I plan on updating at least once a month from here on out, so make sure you hold me too it. I tend to get lazy. Work is nice and steady and I've taken on another project horse to train (God knows I need the money ~_^), and I would hate to put this off. I do have a somewhat legit excuse for taking forever this time- one of my good friends passed away in a car accident on June 2nd. I kinda dropped my hobbies for a bit after hearing the news, but eventually got back on track. Thanks, always, to all my reviewers- new and old. I value your input greatly and I just revel in your praise.

I'm going to take the chance now to officially dedicate this fic to Crystal. She was a fun-loving free spirit that always put others before herself. She was always willing to lend a hand to help or a shoulder to cry on and I will miss her. Rest in peace hun, I love you. ^_^

Reux