KULILIN KURIRIN: GUMSHOE IN A WHITE SUIT
A DBZ Shortie © January 2001 by ALF
WARNINGS: Just a few little bad words here and there, but it's basically controlled. A detective comedy parody...
NOTE: This entire fic was actually inspired by a pic of Krillin in a white suit, so that's what he'll be wearing. Keep in mind that not only is he the star of this particular piece, but all of the characters featured here WILL act a bit off character. And, sticking to the feel of a HUMOROUS early 20th century gangster mystery parody, there will be minimal ki-blasting and kung-fu fighting. (Instead, there'll be tommy-guns, hee-hee ^_^) So, happy reading, enjoy the fic, and don't forget to send me your comments when you're through ^_^
It's a dark and dirty place, this Satan City. The streets are usually covered with grimy gray filth, the usual gangster (or gangster-wannabee), and the occasional crooked cop looking for someone with an unwary disposition to tear down. This place would be a lot worse if I wasn't around. (Or, at least I'd like to think so.) I'm Kulilin Kuririn, or just plain Krillin for short. All the citizens of this crazy, jazzed-up world, however, know me as Private Detective Kulilin Kuririn. I'm a gum-shoe to some although the souls of my boots are pretty much gum-free.
My office is located on the 42nd floor of some building in the crummy part of town. The residences of that place are usually large, pot-bellied men farting around in their beds or couches, with the annoying company of cockroaches. My place is tiny and pretty much empty except for the few desks around the end of the room, the coat-hanger by the door with the broken rungs, a small lamp off to one corner, and a little ice-box for when my cohorts and I get hungry.
So now I sit at my desk, bored out of my mind, while I wait for that bulky black phone on my desk, the one with dust all over it, to ring. I have two partners. My right-arm man, Goku, is at his simple little desk, chowing down on the huge pile of hot-dogs he got from the stand down the street. My left-arm man (because I've got two arms) is Yamcha who is leaning back on a chair, smoothing out his hair while holding up a hand-mirror, and checking his teeth.
"So you're going out with that cop, Bulma Briefs, tonight?" I ask casually, not really caring for an answer. The place was getting too quiet for my tastes.
Yamcha didn't seem to have heard me as he scratched at his front teeth with his fingernail.
I rolled my eyes and sighed; this always happens after a date with that lady. "I said, ARE YOU GOING OUT WITH BULMA AGAIN TONIGHT?!"
Yamcha turned to me. "What?" he said, confused. "I can't hear you, Krillin. I went out with Bulma last night. She yelled in my ear too much."
So what else is new? I just leaned back on my chair, resting my feet on the desk. Perhaps it would be a good time to take a little cat-nap.
Then Yamcha suddenly realized what my deal was. "Oh, not tonight, Krillin. I'm going out with someone else."
I turned my head slowly to him. "But didn't you say that you were going to meet her tonight at the corner of Elm and 2nd street?"
"What did you say, Krillin? I can't hear you."
Poor girl.
The sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs suddenly echoed around the building and throughout the room. No one paid any attention, it was probably one of those unlucky souls that lived on the 58th floor. This building had no elevators. Goku continued with his eating, Yamcha returned to his task of hand-cleaning his teeth, and I stared up at the ceiling, counting the very tiny black dots of the speckled tiles while waiting for that annoying sound to pass by and stop. Indeed it did, but it seemed to have stopped at our floor. All of us tensed up, staring at the door with the grimed-up window expectantly. Goku looked like a hamster with his cheek pouches full, staring at the door with a bulging face full of food.
We could hear a woman's voice grumbling in the hallway. "No one lives on the first floor. Why couldn't they be on the first floor?" Then there was a long pause as we waited to see if anyone would pass by. The woman's silhouette appeared through the window and stayed there, surprisingly. All of us in the room sucked in our breaths as the doorknob slowly turned.
The door moved open, revealing a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, dressed completely in red. She wore one of those bulky red hats with the flowers on the top, a buttoned-up long-sleeved coat with puffy shoulder-pads and fur along the collar, and a tight red skirt coming just up above the knees, showing off the contours of her shapely legs quite nicely. She scanned the room with searching blue eyes, her lips coated in red lipstick that matched her clothes, her hair framing her face perfectly. I gaped at the sight of her, feeling a massive nose-bleed coming on. (Hey, I have a nose, it's just so small that it's kinda hard to locate.) Yamcha and Goku blinked in shock as the lady walked in the room with delicate feet encased in 4-inch heeled red sandals, closing the door behind her. I felt myself lose balance on my chair and was soon involuntarily kissing the dirty hard-wood floor in a heap.
"I'm looking for private eye detective Kuririn Kulilin. Or is it Kulilin Kuririn?" I heard the woman say timidly. I could see her from under the desk as I frantically tried to wipe away the blood gushing from my nose. She looked at Yamcha and Goku questionably, clutching a little red hand-bag to her chin with small hands encased in red fabric.
I jumped to my feet, hoping that my suit was still sparkling white and my face blood-free. "Hi, welcome to our offices," I said rather quickly. "I am detective Kulilin Kuririn. Please, sit down."
Goku pulled up a chair in front of my desk and the lady hesitantly sat down. Goku and Yamcha sat down on their own chairs. I remained standing, mesmerized by the sexiness of the woman's legs as she...
"Pssst!"
I managed to look at Yamcha, the source of the noise.
"Sit down," he mouthed silently.
I sat.
"Please, you must help me look for my twin brother," the lady pleaded to me. "I think he's been abducted." Man, could her lips pout.
"Um, why won't you tell us your name and phone numb--er, the story, and we'll see what we can do," I managed to suggest.
The woman nodded, staring down at her lap. "My name is Juuhachigou, but everyone calls me Eighteen. You're the only one who can help me find my twin brother Juunanagou, or Seventeen, who has been missing for two days now."
Oh great, she has a brother. I could just imagine some giant, overly buff man with too-thick blonde hair ready to pound the crap out of anyone who came too close to his sister.
"Please, go on," Yamcha urged soothingly.
Goku nodded. "And have a hot-dog. A full stomach will always make you feel better."
Eighteen shook her head politely at Goku, but decided to tell her story. "I came home from work two days ago to find that my brother wasn't home. The entire apartment was ransacked and destroyed, kinda as if there were a struggle or something going on in there. All I found of Seventeen was blood on the kitchen counter and a note in the living room." She removed a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes carefully. Then she took the time to blow her nose quite noisily, the rest of us waiting patiently for her to finish. After five agonizing minutes, she finally put away her soiled kerchief and fished out a note, not from her purse, but from underneath her blouse.
More blood suddenly gushed out of my nose like a faucet and I searched frantically for my own handkerchief. Goku stared at me curiously, probably wondering why I was bleeding from that spot between my eyes and mouth, while Yamcha rolled his eyes and shook his head. Humph, like he never had a nosebleed over a woman before!
Soon my handkerchief was found and the blood was quickly wiped away. Eighteen placed the note on my desk. "This is all I found," she said. I picked up the note, taking in its sweet smell of lilac. Eighteen also smelled like lilac.
"Read it, Krillin," Yamcha pressed.
Oh, yeah. I scanned the note briefly with my eyes and then began to read aloud:
Dear Lady,
We have cleverly and conveniently taken your brother from your pathetic home,
because that's what we do. He wouldn't tell us where the priceless jewels that your
rotting father Dr. Gero hid, so that's why we took him. You'd better come up with those
jewels now, before we make your brother rot as well. Even gangsters need to put food on
the table, so that's why we want your jewels. You can find us at the top-TOP-secret
Saiyan Mafia hide-out, located at the alleyway between Satan's Hardware and the Dirty
Lingerie by Roshi store at 514 South Main Street, in the very back where all the
baddest-of-the-bad bad guys like us hang out. If you don't give us the jewels by the end
of the week, our pay-day, then we'll do something really nasty to your brother. We don't
know what that is yet, but when we figure something out, we'll let you know. We will
remain anonymous, you'll never know what gang we are in because you'll tattle-tell to
the cops, and because we're bad like that. Well, a little. Bye now, take care!
--The Saiyan Mafia
We all stared at the note in silence.
"Only one group can do such a thing," I muttered quietly.
Yamcha stared. "The Gang Green Gang (of Nameks)?"
I shook my head. "No, not The Gang Green Gang (of Nameks)."
Goku scratched his head. "The Ginyu-Daddio Posse?"
I sighed. "No."
Eighteen looked at me. "Then who?"
"The Saiyan Mafia."
Everyone gasped, horror-stricken looks on their faces.
"Wow, how do you know?" Goku muttered quietly.
I just stared at the ground. Poor Goku. He had to face his blood, his family, his childhood neighborhood. He was once a resident of the scummy part of town owned by the Saiyan Mafia, called the saiyan ghetto or the oozaru hood. He was fortunate enough to get himself off the streets, and to lead a better life. Too bad the rest of the saiyans couldn't share his fate.
"Well, guys," I stated as I picked up my coat off the floor by the coat rack. "We've got a guy to save and some jewels to return. Let's go."
I could hear the distant sounds of police sirens and breaking beer bottles behind us as we walked down the dark narrow alleyway between the lingerie and hardware store. The place was so damp and filthy. All sorts of trash littered the ground everywhere; the constant array of mud-puddles only added to the cluttered mess. I stayed beside Eighteen who looked around the place in a disgusted silence.
Soon we reached the end where a small cluster of men in dark suits waited for us. We all gathered in our own little group a few feet away, and we all stood, glaring each other down.
The smallest of the group pushed himself through the crowd, stopping to stand directly in front of me. He was known as the god-saiyan Vegeta, the leader of the pack. To his right was Two-Timing Raditz, to his left was Stone-Cold Nappa, and behind him was Mirror-Man Turles. All had their arms crossed, their tails waving lazily behind them.
The god-saiyan smirked, judging me over with his mocking eyes. "So, we finally meet, face-to face," he drawled. "Gum-shoe Kulilin Kuririn versus the mighty god-father saiyan Vegeta. The Saiyan Mafia versus your pathetic little band of nitwits."
"Hey," Stone-Cold Nappa whispered to Mirror-Man Turles as he nudged him. "Look how short they both are. The midget leaders facing it off."
The god-saiyan frowned displeasingly, his eyes gleaming dangerously, although they were still locked on me. "I heard that," he snapped.
Stone-Cold Nappa's face turned red and he snapped back into his straight-forward position.
I took a deep breath, telling myself to keep cool, keep calm, and act as big-and-bad as possible. "You've got someone of Eighteen's. Return him to us."
The god-saiyan sneered at me and dramatically raised a hand in the air. He snapped his fingers and Two-Timing Raditz disappeared in the shadows. We all waited patiently, listening to faint, echoing sounds of a scuffle and shouting voices. Two-Timing Raditz soon emerged, dragging behind him a bound and beat-up looking man.
I gaped in surprise. Where was the buff blonde that I expected to see? Instead I was looking at a kinda shrimpy man about as tall as Eighteen with dark hair as long and bone-straight as his sister's and the same striking blue eyes. He glared at everyone in the area, his gaze holding on his sister.
"There he is," the god-saiyan announced to us. "But this is as close as you'll ever get to him unless you give me what I want. Fork up the jewels."
I turned to Eighteen. "Do you have 'em?"
She stared at me, her beautiful face etched in such a regretful expression. "I didn't bring them," she said quietly.
The rest of us could only stare in disbelief. "You what?" Yamcha peeped.
I glanced at the fuming Saiyan Mafia behind me. "Uh, Eighteen," I said, sounding nervous, "you're risking our lives here. Not carrying the jewels with you was like a contract for our deaths."
"I-I'm sorry, Krillin. I can't believe I forgot, I--"
"Shut up, woman," the god-saiyan barked.
The entire alley was deathly silent as we gazed nervously at the Saiyan Mafia. They didn't look too happy at all with those dangerous gleams in their eyes and threatening scowls across their faces. The god-saiyan cleared his throat and the three thugs suddenly whipped out black Mafia hats in unison, fitting them snugly over their heads. Stone-Cold Nappa pulled out an extra hat and smashed the god-saiyan's gravity-defying hair under it. The hat held for a second and then the hair sprang back up to its towering glory, the hat dangling off the ends. Stone-Cold Nappa blinked in surprise and pressed down on the hat again, but nothing could make the hair on the god-father's head relax.
The god-saiyan makes a better coat rack than the thing we have back at the office, I couldn't help but think.
Stone-Cold Nappa attempted to fit the god-saiyan in his hat once more, ending up with the same results. The little leader finally motioned the large man down to his level. Nappa paused, eye to eye with his boss, then the god-saiyan smacked him a good one upside the back of the head. He then whisked the useless hat from his rather strong hair with one easy flick of his wrist.
The bald henchman slowly returned to his stand-straight position and everything remained still once again as one side gazed upon the other. I gulped, trying my best to hide my nervousness. Goku stared at the Mafia with a startling calm and focus. He looked ready to whip out his gun and take them down whenever the moment arrived. Yamcha looked just as uneasy as I did. Eighteen kinda shrank behind me as best as she could. Her brother, Seventeen, who was on the other side of the line, glared everyone down. He seemed to have a death-wish for everything that breathed.
The god-saiyan suddenly jerked his head, breaking the tension, and everyone moved with a snap. Goku whipped up his gun within his hands in a flash, Yamcha and I pulled out our own pistols, and the Saiyan Mafia shoved forth tommy-guns from under their suit jackets. Every gun found a target on someone else. Everyone stood absolutely motionless with sweat rolling down their faces, wondering who would be the first to make, or take, a shot.
The god-saiyan cocked his head and frowned, his eyes darting from me to Eighteen behind me. "And what's the meaning of this?"
I glanced behind me to find Eighteen pointing a gun to my head. Another gun was gripped in her other hand, pointed straight at the god-saiyan. Her face was now shadowed in a cold hardness, her eyes gleaming with threat.
"Eh-Eighteen," I stammered, my whole being stunned with this shocking sight. "What are you doing?"
"Shut up," Eighteen snapped, her voice like a whip. "And you," she stated to the god-saiyan, "don't move or I'll blast your bauls off. And if any of your thugs tries to shoot me, you die. If any of Krillin's friends moves, Krillin dies."
The god-saiyan could only scowl as Seventeen wiggled out of his ropes, a surprising sight. He snickered as he took his spot beside his sister. She handed him her extra gun and he took the position on the god-saiyan while Eighteen kept her gun at me. "Got the jewels?" she muttered curtly at her brother.
Seventeen smirked triumphantly and reached carefully in his pants. After groping around for a bit, he came up with a small brown bag. He loosened the tied end and poured some of the contents out onto his outstretched palm. Shimmering pearls and glistening diamonds advertised themselves brightly in the dreary darkness.
The god-saiyan gritted his teeth angrily, his temples throbbing at a furious tempo. He shifted his burning eyes to Mirror-Man Turles. "I thought you said you searched him," he seethed.
Mirror-Man Turles gulped nervously, sweat rolling slowly down his face. "Hell, I wasn't gonna touch him there," he uttered.
The conniving twins snickered noisily, their guns still pointed at their targets. "The Stealthy Twins strike again," Eighteen boasted. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. The Stealthy Twins, please, what a stupid name...But the knowledge of who these two really were allowed a miserable realization to creep up my skin. I should have known from the beginning what was going on. I should have known when she had mentioned a twin brother, I should have known when I first saw Seventeen. Heck, I should have known about something fishy when someone had actually stepped into our office!
But it looked like I wasn't the only one trembling in anger and humiliation. The god-saiyan glared a slow, painful death at everyone, his breath flaring through his nostrils. "All this time and the jewels were in our grasp!" he seethed. "Just a few more minutes and the loot would have been mine, er, I mean the Mafia's, and I would have been known as the one who killed the legendary Stealthy Twins."
Everyone rolled their eyes.
I, however, blinked, confused. "Wait a minute," I quipped. "The Saiyan Mafia knew who you were the whole time? Then why the note, why us? What's the deal here?"
I could feel Eighteen's steely gaze on the back of my head as she spoke. "That's rather easy to explain," she started. "We--"
"The Mafia was going to steal those very jewels from the museum down the road just a few weeks ago," the god-saiyan said in a low voice, glaring at the twins and the jewels. "But when we raided the place, we found out that the jewels were already stolen. After a while of tracking, we traced it to the twins. So we raided their place, trying to steal what is rightfully ours. Seventeen just happened to be there, so we took him too. But--"
"Why not get rid of our competition?" Eighteen cut in.
"So when the Mafia came, I let myself be captured with the jewels safely tucked away," Seventeen added. "All Sister needed was an excuse to bring the biggest nuisances in the universe along for the ride."
"That's where you come in," Eighteen said, eyeing me and my partners.
"We constructed a hostage note," the god-saiyan informed, "figuring that we could bring Eighteen to us, making it easy to do away with the both of them."
"I decided to come to you," Eighteen added rather excitedly, "knowing that you would fall for my trap perfectly."
"We never expected her to bring cue-ball and his bunch of no-good dufuses along," the god-saiyan seethed.
"But she brought 'em," Seventeen proudly announced with a wide grin.
"And now here we all are, together in la-la land," the god-saiyan growled finally with a frustrated scowl.
Goku, Yamcha, and I blinked, trying to clear our dizzy heads from keeping up with whoever had spoke. It would have been so much easier to look if they all stood side-by-side.
"Yes," Eighteen stated, her voice dropping back down to ten-million below zero. "Soon there will be no more Saiyan Mafia, no more Detective Krillin, no more nuisances. The Stealthy Twins will come out of this alleyway alone and victorious."
Seventeen nodded. "Yeah," he squeezed in.
The two tensed up as they positioned their guns in the ultimate ready position. "Now it's time to say... bye-bye-bye," Eighteen whispered coldly, Seventeen doing a little dance move with her line.
Oh no. I couldn't believe it. The end. After years of working alongside my two closest friends, kicking ass and sharing dreams, it was finally gonna end like this. And I would be killed by the hands of the most beautiful and traitorous woman on Earth. Well, at least she wasn't an ugly and traitorous woman. So I closed my eyes, waiting for that final piercing moment when all of my life would burst before me, when--
"Freeze!"
I must have jumped a mile high from hearing that sharp, piercing tone. My eyes flew open as everyone turned to see two silhouetted figures within the frame of the alleyway walls. The two mysterious beings stepped from the glaring light of the streets, revealing themselves to be women, both in police uniforms.
I blinked in surprise. It was Bulma, Yamcha's girlfriend! She stared at everyone suspiciously, an invisible cool, confident aura around her face as her hands gripped the black metal of her gun firmly. Beside her was her partner, Chichi, who looked eager and ready for a little ass-kicking. Instead of a gun, she held the hard, threatening metal of a large black pan within her hands, a spare hanging patiently from her belt. From what I've heard, it was less painful to get nailed by a bullet than to encounter a direct hit from Chichi's famous titanium-alloy mass of destruction.
"Looks like we almost missed the party," Bulma announced as she and Chichi exchanged smirks.
The dark-haired apprentice nodded. "Detective Kulilin Kuririn and his team, the Saiyan Mafia, and the Stealthy Duo....looks like we're gonna have a lot of fun."
The two women snickered in their cocky glee.
The god-saiyan uttered out a long, threatening growl, his huge forehead pulsating more than ever with his heightened rage. "Kill them all!" he screamed before his goons charged into action.
The distracting moment couldn't have been more perfect as I firmly grasped Eighteen's wrist and flung her over my shoulders and onto the asphalt in front of me. The force of this action made her drop her gun, which I conveniently shoved away into the shadows with my foot. She smacked me a good one right across the kisser, but even this little man knew how to pin a woman down.
Stone-cold Nappa rushed at Goku, the bullets not affecting him in the slightest, despite witnessing his torso gain red holes. Goku finally dropped his gun and crouched down as Stone-cold Nappa barreled over him. Goku threw all his weight on the burly man's waist like a football player, throwing the Saiyan Mafia goon over his shoulder. Chichi finished the attack with a mighty thwak from her pan to his head, knocking him out cold. Seventeen rushed towards her, his gun raised, but the dangerous cop knew he was there. With a swift turn on her heel and a flick of her wrist, she hurled her extra pan straight for the crazy man's head. Another loud thwak was heard as he hit the ground cold, a large bump slowly growing from his forehead.
Mirror-Man Turles was surprisingly quick, dodging all of Yamcha's bullets like a comet streaking around the stars. "Oh, shit," the poor man couldn't help but say as Mirror-Man Turles rammed him into the wall.
"Say good-bye," the Goku look-alike sneered as he raised his tommy-gun to Yamcha's head.
"NOOOOOOO!" I screamed as the shots rang out. But to my definite surprise, as well as Mirror-Man Turles's own, Yamcha had fallen right before the gun was fired, with his foot crushing that tender spot between the Mafia man's legs. Poor Mirror-Man Turles sank to the ground, too much in pain to do any more fighting. Chichi promptly cuffed him.
Now our attention focused on the two that were left grappling over a gun--Bulma and the god-saiyan. It looked like Bulma was losing as the god-saiyan pinned her to the ground, pressing a gun firmly to her forehead. "Prepare to die!" the little leader sneered, a hungry smirk on his face. Goku and Yamcha immediately sprang into action, running toward the scene to save Bulma. I, however, still had a struggling blonde under me.
"WAIT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, freezing the entire scene. The god-saiyan and Bulma held their positions, absolutely motionless. Yamcha and Goku were frozen in their spots. "I'm suppose to be the hero here," I protested. "Let me take out the god-saiyan!"
Goku blushed sheepishly while Yamcha cast his eyes downward, embarrassed.
"Sorry," Goku muttered.
"Chichi, handcuff this monster," I ordered, exasperated that I was still struggling with Eighteen under me.
"I'll give you monster!" my corrupted angel spat, spraying my face with flying spit. "You haven't seen monster 'till I--" The sound of solid steel cuffs locked around her wrists shut off her spray.
Finally, my moment of glory! I chirped in my head as I sprang into action. The god-saiyan was so much into the moment of almost killing Bulma that he didn't notice me coming. With my head down low, I butted him right in the side, grabbing the hand that had the gun and pointing it upwards at the same time. The pistol fired as the god-saiyan lost his footing, skidding across the damp concrete.
Bulma was right behind him, kicking him the whole way. "And that's for trying to pull that stunt on me!" she screamed as she cuffed him and kicked him some more. "And that's for ruining my hair! And that's for..."
"We did it!" Goku cried, giving Yamcha a high-five.
"We kick butt!" Yamcha added in.
"And my suit's still clean!" I cheered, overjoyed about my flawless performance and my still flawless suit.
"Thanks for all your help, gentlemen," Chichi said with a smile as she lead a grumpy Mirror-Man Turles and Two-Timing Raditz down the alleyway. "Be sure to return those jewels to the museum, OK?"
The three of us nodded. "Right," we chimed together.
Chichi grinned and then stopped, narrowing her eyes at Goku. "AND WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL DAY?!" the woman suddenly screamed, startling Yamcha and I out of our wits and causing Goku to start sweating. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE NOT A DETECTIVE?! YOU'RE SUPPOSE TO BE HOME TAKING CARE OF THE KIDS INSTEAD OF HANGING AROUND WITH THOSE FRIENDS OF YOURS!"
Goku rushed off, dodging Chichi's flying pans. "I-I'm sorry, Chichi, I'm going back right now, I..."
"Poor Goku," Yamcha muttered as he and I stared blankly at the scene in front of us.
"Yeah," I added. We both knew he would be back tomorrow.
"You pig!" Bulma yelled, jerking a battered god-saiyan around like a rag-doll as she marched up to Yamcha. "You were suppose to take me out tonight! Where were you?!"
Now it was Yamcha's turn to sweat. "We-we were on this case, Bulma. You know that. I don't need some broad hanging around me every single second of my life."
It wasn't exactly the best phrase to say as Bulma exploded in his ear. "WHAT A BUNCH OF BULL!" she shrieked. "I DEVOTE ALL OF MY TIME TO YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME! WHY, I OUTTA..."
I suddenly realized the advantages of being single. I would still have a lot of my hearing left when I grew old.
All the god-saiyan could do was snicker as he witnessed Yamcha receiving a verbal beating from Bulma.
"AND YOU, SHUT UP!" she suddenly yelled, right in the god saiyan's face. Then she did something that Yamcha didn't catch, seeing as how he was sulking down at his shoes, while throwing both me and the god-saiyan off-guard. She tucked a card into his jacket and whispered "Call me when you get out of jail," in his ear. The god-saiyan smirked, I stood speechless, and Bulma winked at the stubby man before she continued her task of yelling at Yamcha. Poor, poor man.
Officers Yajirobe, Tien, and Chou-zu arrived at the scene to help take the rest of the baddies away. I watched as Tien dragged off my beautiful Eighteen, her hair gorgeously out of place and her clothes adorably soiled.
"This is all your fault," she growled at her brother.
"No, it's yours!" Seventeen shot back, Chou-zu tugging him right along.
"No, it's YOUR fault! It's always your fault!"
"No, it's always YOUR fault!"
"Why?" I cut in, looking sorrowfully at Eighteen. "Why did you betray me like that?"
The woman stared with those icy-blue eyes of hers, a tiny little smile appearing on her luscious lips. "I gotta do what I gotta do," was her answer. "But it was fun while it lasted. I'll try to ruin your life next time, Cutie." She winked at me before Tien dragged her around the corner, and out of my sight.
I stood frozen, stunned into silence, as I let the words soak in. She called me Cutie. And she winked at me! The thought turned on my nasal passages again as even more blood gushed out. I never knew I had so much of the stuff in me.
"Again?" Yamcha quipped as I cleaned myself up. "Man, get over her. She's a criminal and you're, well.....you're you."
"Let's just go home," I stated grumpily, trudging towards the bright city lights. "I'm tired."
"Same here," Yamcha agreed as he fell into step beside me. We walked in silence for a few moments before my partner finally spoke. "Hey, is that a stain on your suit?"
Damn.