"Costume?"

"Check."

"Candy bag?"

"Check."

"Vengeance bag?"

"Check."

Bulma shook her head as she heard the checklist that was being rattled off. "You know," she called out, knowing full well her words would fall for nothing, "some people might think that Halloween is a time for games and fun, not petty vandalism."

Even though he was in another room, Bulma could swear she heard her firstborn roll his eyes. "Then some people shouldn't have taught us how to make glue bombs and dismantle sprinkler systems."

"Oh come on!" the heiress grunted, getting to her feet and tossing her forgotten magazine aside. "That was years ago!"

"And have we ever thanked you for the years of pleasure that information has given us?"

Slowly waddling into the front hallway, the very pregnant Bulma glared at her son and his partner in crime. "It never dawned on me that it would be seven years later and you two would still be doing it!"

"Bulma, you said that it was how Halloween is done," Goten calmly pointed out. "Trick-or-treat is a verbal social contract, by which the children are to be offered a tribute, usually in the form of a sugary treat, in exchange for clearance for all forms of retribution." The shock on the faces of the room's inhabitants was more than satisfying. Smirking, the ten year old stood up and put his hands on his hips. "I'd like to take credit for that, but I've got to be honest: I had Gohan make me cue cards. I just wanted to see your faces." The smirk faltered slightly as an afterthought hit him. "What I said made sense, right? I mean, those were all real words that were in the right order? Gohan's not messing with me?"

Bulma chuckled. "Goten, I don't think Gohan would mess with you."

"Oh, how cute," Trunks sarcastically chimed in. "She really believes that."

Blinking, Bulma stammered out, "Gohan pranks you? Sweet little Gohan?"

"Hey, I'm sweet little Goten," the younger boy replied with a grin, standing and proudly holding out a sack of implements, "and look at what I'm doing tonight."

Bulma shook her head. "And here I thought my son was the bad influence on you."

"Oh, heck no," Goten laughed. "I mean, yeah, he's a terrible influence sometimes, but he's not the only one who gives me bad ideas. There's Gohan and Krillen and Vegeta and you and Dad and…"

"Hey!" the heiress interrupted. "Why the hell am I on the list?"

"I dunno," the Son boy replied, a wicked smirk on his face. "Why the hell are you?"

Had it not been for the laughter behind her, Bulma would have torn Goten a new one. But the laughter was, in fact, there, and it caused her to find a new target for her rage. "Are you kidding me?" she hollered. "You think that's funny?"

"I laughed, didn't I?" her husband chuckled back.

Frustrated, Bulma threw her arms into the air. "That's it! That's it! I officially hate all of you!"

"So what else is new?"

"Argh!" she hollered. "Why do I put up with you people?"

The three males exchanged a quick glance before simultaneously offering single shoulder shrugs.

"You know what?" the heiress griped. "Whatever. Go out there, do your little shenanigans, and get you asses back here without getting caught by the cops. Understood?"

The boys grinned. "Got it!" Trunks answered, capsulizing what he had dubbed as his vengeance bag. "And we promise to keep this in the misdemeanor range. No felonies."

"Good." With that she waddled away, hoping that she would be able to focus on her magazine and not any possible sirens that may or may not be heading for chaos her son would be causing.

As he pocketed his gear, Trunks flashed a smirk to his father. "Any parting advice?"

But Vegeta shook his head. "Consider it a training exercise, boy. I want to see what you can do independently. I do, however, expect a full report upon your return."

Trunks nodded as he turned to leave, enjoying Goten's comment of, "Your dad is so cool," on their way out the door.

"Okay," the young prince said, clapping his hands together and giving a wicked grin. "Where shall we begin?"

/

West City had no idea what it was in for that night. Trunks and Goten were on a mission. They were going to hit every single home in the city that had signs of life inside. Those who offered candy were spared completely. The majority of the homes that they crossed fell into that category. Any offering of candy, even if that candy was sub-par, was deemed acceptable tribute.

They were on their twelfth house before someone slipped up. They were hardly surprised by what happened, though. After all, Dr. Miller was a dentist. It was a shocker to no one that instead of candy, he handed out toothbrushes and toothpaste. They were actually fairly decent in quality, and likely cost the man significantly more than it would have to purchase candy, but it was still not acceptable tribute.

"Alright," Trunks said with a smirk, looking at the 'goody' left in his bag, "this guy gets a warning shot."

Goten smirked and nodded. "Warning shot, got it." He dipped in to his bag of tricks and produced a full roll of toilet paper. In one seemingly fluid motion, he unraveled and bunched it. "Alright, captain," he chuckled. "Awaiting the package."

Trunks pulled the toothbrushes from his bag, along with the matching one from Goten's. Both were nested snuggly inside the bunched, dry paper along with a note, with the entire package carefully into the good doctor's mailbox. Come morning, the man would find the returned brushes and the note, simply labeled "Unacceptable tribute. It's one friggin' night, it will not destroy our teeth." Originally Trunks wanted to get more vicious with toothbrush tributes, but Goten had laughingly pointed out that at least they got an open door, a smile, and an object. You cannot get all that ticked off at someone who greeted you with smiles and gifts, no matter how lousy those gifts were.

"Is it sad," Goten said, walking and checking out his candy haul at the same time, "that I'm actually very disappointed with how few people are being crappy about Halloween these days? I mean, we used to be able to get so many houses that we needed more than one capsule of stuff to make sure we could hammer everyone who deserved it. Now it's like, you know, people actually follow the unwritten rules of the night."

"If it is sad that you are disappointed," Trunks growled, "then I don't even want to think of what adjective is going to be used to describe me and my thoughts. The best thing about this holiday was getting back at dumbasses that didn't want to play right. But just going from door to door and getting candy? What the hell kind of fun is that?"

"I know!" his friend agreed. "If all we wanted was candy, we could have just gone to your grandma and asked!"

With a frustrated nod, Trunks sat down on a bench. "This isn't cutting it," he griped. "We need to expand our turf."

Goten joined him, a giddy little part of him eager for what was coming. These were his favorite moments in life: Trunks getting ridiculous ideas that, while they usually ended in one or both of them being grounded, were the greatest fun while being pulled off. "What's the scheme?"

/

"Okay, let's compare notes."

The boys had spent near an hour apart from each other, each one returning with localized maps of surrounding areas. Each map had markings on it, little evil looking smiley faces that haunted specific areas.

"So the ones over here," Trunks reported, pointing out homes in a very nice neighborhood a few cities over, "are unbelievable. You will note that I have taken the time to put plus signs over some of the houses. Those are good places for hitting up for candy, and we are definitely starting there. Seriously, this one," he pointed to a specific manor, "is giving each kid their own box. Comparatively, you have these jerks." The evil faces finally had their turn. "They are our targets. And this one," he went on, an almost angry look taking his face as he did so, "actually released dogs on a group of little kids. Seriously, not even teenagers. Little, little kids were running away from dogs."

Goten looked horrified. "What kind of sick individual releases giant dogs on small children?"

"Well, they weren't giant dogs," Trunks admitted. "But still, when you're like a six year old or somethin', it's still uncool to have to run away from a pack of westies."

"Definitely." Goten frowned. "Can we hit them first?"

Trunks shook his head. "Not immediately, but we will get to them soon. First, my friend, we need to run a couple tests."

A wicked smirk formed on Goten's face. "You got it?"

"Please," Trunks replied, his own wicked smirk firmly in place. "Have I ever not gotten my hands on something?"

"Well, that one time with your dad…"

"Anyway," Trunks interrupted, "I got what we need. Now keep your voice down and follow me…"

/

Trunks perched on the highest roof of the very nice home, surveying their target with a keen eye. Slowly he clicked on his side of the communicator. "Alright," he softly said, making sure to keep his own voice lowered, "the humans are moving away from the perimeter. Hold your position, but be ready to move on my mark."

Lurking in the shadows, Goten nodded, more so to himself than anyone else.

Carefully studying his targets, Trunks prepared to initiate Phase One of the plan. He opened his mouth and grinned, but found himself coming to a grinding halt when a group of teenagers approached.

"Hold fire," he commanded. Trunks analyzed the teens before him, and realized that he had seen them before. They had been walking with one of the groups of kids that had been attacked by the dogs. "I think they've earned first wave rights."

From his hiding spot Goten could not tell what was going on, but he trusted Trunks and held his ground. After all, the one direction his best friend had stated over and over again was that unless it was a life threatening emergency, Goten was prohibited from talking until Phase One was completed.

With great interest on the roof, the young prince watched as the angry teenagers approached. One slammed his fist on the door, demanding that someone come out immediately. Both Goten and Trunks could hear the call and response that followed, and the residence yelled for the teens to leave, the teens refused, the residents threatened to call the cops, and the teens dared them to. After all, if the cops asked the teenagers why they had gone to the home, and those teenagers could honestly say it was because the residents had released a pack of dogs deliberately on a group of small children, there was definitely a side that the police would focus on. "Huh," Trunks muttered, "we might not be needed here after all."

But then Trunks listened in on what the residents were saying. Horrified, he eavesdropped on the adults inside as they began to construct a story to tell the police. They planned to claim that they had done nothing wrong, that one of the smaller children had gone and trespassed around the house and had accidentally let the dogs out, and that the teenagers were troublemakers that were using to use anything as an excuse to fight.

It was a flat out lie. Trunks had witnessed firsthand that it was blatantly untrue. No child from that group had gone around to the side or back of the manor. They had all gone straight for the door, every single one of them. The dogs had been deliberately unleashed for nothing more than the sick enjoyment of the people inside.

"Slight change of plan," he quietly spoke into his communicator. "I'm going to get all of the humans in the backyard. We're targeting them directly."

In the darkness, Goten grinned wickedly. Oh, it was going to be sweet.

"Get the teenagers out of here," the prince commanded. "I don't want them caught up in this."

"Roger that," Goten said, slowly moving for the street.

Goten Son was many things, and a very highly skilled young man. His greatest ability, though, the talent that would long serve him best, was his ability to appear innocent and vulnerable. He made certain that he was out of the general area first, ensuring that no one could tell he had ever been near the house. With well practiced motions, he began returning to the house, walking down the street with a limp candy sack and tears trickling down his face. He kept his face down, only using his peripheral vision to watch his targets. As he drew near to the house, he let out a loud sniff.

One of the teenagers turned immediately, and it only took a moment to spot Goten. "Hey," he said, nudging his friends, "I think that kid needs help."

Slowly the group turned, all watching the seemingly miserable boy walk down the street. The one who noticed the group broke from the pack and approached Goten. "Hey, kiddo," he softly spoke, "what's wrong?"

Another sniff escaped the Son boy. A lifetime of friendship with Trunks had made the younger Son an artist at such things. "It's not fair!" he said, misery dripping from his voice. "They're just such meanies!"

"Who's a meanie?" the teenager asked.

Wiping a fake tear from his cheek, Goten made his lower lip tremble. "These jerks came and they…they…" A small sob escaped. "They took all my candy!" For dramatic emphasis, he shook his magically empty bag towards the ground. "They didn't leave me anything!"

The group of older kids exchanged concerned looks. "Were you out here with anyone else?"

"Yeah," Goten pouted. "The jerks who took my candy! I thought they were my friends!"

"Ouch," one of them winced. "Robbed and ditched by your own friends. That's rough, kid."

"You know what?" the oldest among them said. "Maybe we can help you out." He glanced at his buddies. "How about we take you through the neighborhood, and we'll see if we can find another group for you? And hey, have you called a parent or something yet? We should probably do that."

Goten nodded, still sniffling. "Someone is coming to get me," he lied, suddenly seeing the flaw in his plan.

"Good," the leader stated. "Who's picking you up? Do you know where they're meeting you?"

Crap, Goten thought, grimacing slightly. There was no way he could call his mom or Gohan; even if they had been nearby, there was no way either one of them would approve of the overall plan he and Trunks were attempting to pull off. But just as his mother and brother would disapprove of his personal brand of Halloween vigilantism, these well-meaning older kids would never let a kid who just said he got robbed and abandoned walk off without an adult. "Yeah," he finally answered. Goten was not sure what he was going to do, but he knew that his ever faithful partner in crime was within hearing range. He had to have faith that Trunks would think of something.

Damn it, Trunks thought with a frown. His mind raced furiously as he went through every option that was potentially available, but from the beginning, he knew there was only one choice. Careful to keep himself in the dark, he dimmed his phone's screen and sent out a distress signal to the only person with hope of rescuing them.

It was not easy for Goten to stall for time. The longer it took for help to arrive, the more details the others wanted. Seconds felt like hours to the young Son boy as he tried to stay as vague as possible without sounding like he was making it all up as he went along. He was starting to run out of ammunition when their savior finally appeared.

"What the hell happened?"

Goten had never been so happy to see Vegeta in all his life. "Hi, Uncle!" he beamed, rushing over to him. "I knew you would come get me!" The boy dropped his voice to ensure the others did not hear as he begged, "Please, please play along." His voice rose again, his faux tears back in play. "The other kids took my candy and ditched me!"

The group of teenagers stood protectively around the boy. "He doesn't seem to be hurt," the leader stated. "It looks like they just took his stuff. He's a little shaken up, but I'm sure he'll be fine."

Vegeta shot Goten a hard glare, offering the others the simple statement, "Got it." Nothing else was said as he led Goten down the street, abandoning the teenagers who had become too distracted to remember their original goal. As soon as they were out of the line of sight, Vegeta hauled the boy up roughly. "What the hell happened?"

"I'll put it in the notes at the debriefing," Goten assured. "There was an unforeseen circumstance, but all we needed was the out."

Vegeta shook his head as he dropped the boy. "Don't screw up again."

Goten grinned. "Thank you!" He repressed his natural urge to hug and turned, immediately going back to his needed location.

Left behind, Vegeta rolled his eyes before he took off into the night sky, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Trunks let out a long, slow breath as he observed his best friend returning to his hiding spot. They were going to catch hell later that night for involving Vegeta, but it was going to be worth it. It did not matter that those teenagers had held the same ultimate agenda; they could not have pulled it off. The young prince waited another couple of minutes before moving again, hoping to minimize chances of getting caught. The night had gotten quiet around them, odd for a Halloween night anywhere else but not unheard of in an unfriendly area.

The lavender topped boy scowled. He had heard of people being cruel on Halloween before. Hell, he and his best friend had made it their personal mission to get vengeance on behalf of all those wronged by those who were unwilling to at least remain neutral. Refusing to hand out candy was bad. Turning the sprinklers on trick-or-treaters was worse. But sending dogs out on children and then trying to call the cops on people who refuse to put up with it? These people needed to go down hard.

A wicked little smirk grew as Trunks placed his palm squarely in the center of the roof. A small shockwave radiated from his hand, causing the home to shake in its own private earthquake. It was not enough to do structural damage, but it was more than plenty to make a few chandeliers shake. There was a sense of satisfaction as Trunks listened to the sudden panic inside the manor, and he grinned as they ran for the backyard. He slid off the roof, grabbing a handful of the necessary objects from Goten in the shadows. Silently the two went to work.

Their victims never noticed the young ones as they worked. Trunks and Goten were well seasoned at moving fast and silently, keeping any regular human from identifying their presence at all. One by one the victims were marked, and mere seconds had gone by before the two mischief makers had retreated from the scene, hiding on a separate rooftop to watch their work reveal itself.

A minute or two ticked by as the guests of the manor calmed down and realized that the earthquake, no matter how intense it might have seemed originally, must have been minor. After all, no one else seemed to have even noticed. With some choice words about lazy contractors and the need to call their best lawyers, the party people began to make their way back inside.

At least, that was what they tried to do.

The first man had practically swaggered for the doorway, and Trunks and Goten grinned as they watched his body suddenly shoot rigid, spasm, and drop to the ground.

The others screamed and rushed toward the fallen man, but as each one of them drew near they, too, convulsed and collapsed.

"I gotta hand it to you," Goten whispered, "putting the invisible fence collars on the jerks and putting the line across the back door was genius."

"Of course it was," Trunks replied with a smirk. "After all, this is me we're talking about."

It took the adults longer than it should have to figure out what had happened and to begin removing the collars. They called the police and handed over the evidence, but the boys had been clever and made sure that there had been no prints left. Since no one was seriously harmed, the officers took the report and chuckled as they got back in their cruiser. They had been planning to come out anyway after a series of dog attack reports, and they were entertained by the justice likely taken by one of their victims. So long as no one had serious damage to body or property, odds were that there was not going to be any follow up.

As they watched the police head away, Goten stood and stretched. "You know, we had a bit of a slow start, but I think that this ended pretty well!"

"Yeah!" Trunks agreed, also getting to his feet. "When was the last time we got an opportunity to pull a scheme like this?"

"Too long, man. Too long." Shaking out his limbs he hovered, ready to take to the sky. "Why don't we do stuff like this more often?"

Trunks snorted. "Because our usual targets are family members," he pointed out.

"So?"

"They retaliate."

"Oh yeah…" The pair flew off into the dark night, watching the few remaining trick-or-treaters wrap up their own evenings. "Hey, Trunks?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we going to do next year?"