No Choice
"Freeze! Nobody moves and nobody gets hurt!"
Krillen peered around the edge of the tower of shopping parcels obstructing his view. Two men, heavily armed with an array of weaponry, blocked the bank's main entrance. One wore small black sunglasses, the other a bandanna tied around his forehead partially concealing a large scar near his left eye. Both were dressed in grubby camouflage clothing. A white-haired security guard lay in a heap at their feet, a small pool of blood forming on the shiny marble floor from the blade sticking through the back of his uniform jacket.
The bank customers panicked. Two dozen men and women ran screaming around the large marbled lobby, knocking into one another in their search for an exit. When they were continually met by more armed men at every turn, they huddled together seeking safety in numbers. The bank's employees, their hands held high over their heads, were ushered out of their cubicles and offices at gunpoint to join their customers. The echoing cries were cut short by the piercing sound of automatic gunfire being shot above their heads. Plaster fell from the ceiling, raining down on them like artificial snow.
"I said freeze!" the gunman with the bandanna shouted. He lowered the barrel of his weapon and swept it across the room to point at each frightened person. "The next time ya don't listen, somebody dies!"
"This ain't your ordinary robbery," the one with the sunglasses said, stepping forward. Compared to his trigger happy companion, he seemed calm and civil. "We ain't here just for money. We're here to make our voices heard. And everybody seems to listen better when you're in a bank holdin' a gun. Now, the police don't know how many of you are in here, so killing a few to ensure cooperation ain't no big deal. So nobody try being a hero and we'll get alone just fine."
"That's right," Bandanna interjected. "We got guys at every door and the cameras are dead. The only hope you got is to play by our rules."
Seeing the crowd was effectively corralled, the rest of the gunmen faded into the background leaving Sunglasses and Bandanna to deal with the whimpering circle of hostages. Krillen slowly lowered his packages to the floor. He'd spent all morning collecting them for his wife and had grumbled the entire time – until now. They made for a perfect hiding place. So far, they hadn't noticed him behind the boxes that looked so much like the display of new customer gifts nearby. All he needed to do now was wait for the right opportunity to move. If he could just make his way around behind the men, he should be able to take them both out before anyone got hurt.
"We have an offer for you," Sunglasses announced. "Just yesterday, the leader of our illustrious group was hunted down like a rabid animal and captured. All we want is his freedom. Then we'll leave and go back to our homeland. But to do that peacefully and without the police harassing us, we need your cooperation."
"I got here papers for y'all to sign," Bandanna interrupted, waving a rolled stack of papers over his head. "Join up with The Jackals and we'll take you home with us safe and sound."
"The Jackals?"
All eyes turned to the middle aged businessman in a blue three-piece suit. Krillen would have mistaken him for the bank's president if he hadn't seen him in the deposit line just a few minutes ago. Once his initial shock wore off, the man took on the air of someone used to dealing with subordinates. He looked down his nose at the gunmen as if they were something he'd paid someone else to scrape off the bottom of his shoe.
"I've heard of you. You're the mangy terrorist group that sends your members on suicide bombings. Our military has spent a lot of time and effort tracking your leader down. Now he will finally be held accountable for your despicable crimes."
"So you've heard of us," Sunglasses said with a satisfied grin. "Do you agree to join us?"
"I'd never stoop so low as to even give you the time of day," Businessman answered with a sneer.
"Then you're free to go," Sunglasses announced. He made a sweeping gesture with his gun toward the door. At the same time, the street outside filled with the sound of sirens summoned by the bank's silent alarm. The frosted windows glowed with flashing police lights.
The businessman looked uncertainly at the armed men, caught off guard by the sudden offer of freedom. He lifted his chin higher as he strode to the front door. Bandanna unlocked the door and gave him a formal bow to usher him out. The door swung open and the businessman stepped out into the sunlight...and was promptly shot in the back of the head. They all watched him jerk from the impact and slowly fall forward just before the door closed shut on the bloody scene.
"One down," Bandanna announced happily as he relocked the door and blew imaginary smoke from the tip of his gun barrel. He cackled laughter at his own joke and slapped his knee.
"So now ya see how this is gonna to work," Sunglasses said over the hushed sounds of whimpering and stifled crying. He shouldered his weapon and crossed his arms as if patiently explaining a new lesson to a class. "We need new members. And with signed proof that you belong with us, we'll be able to take y'all back to our country without hassle. We ain't kidnappers. We don't haul people off bound and gagged. You're free to leave and join your friend out there...or accept our offer to join us and live to see another day."
Krillen was horrified to see no one refuse the offer.
One by one, they stepped forward to accept a paper from Bandanna, shooting nervous glances at the locked front door and the horror they knew lay just beyond it. They all signed their lives away to an uncertain fate instead of standing up to fight for their freedom. After handing over their paper and pen to Sunglasses they milled around in a loose group looking like cattle before the butcher.
Krillen took the opportunity given by the distracting bank customers to creep around behind the gunmen. He wished he had on his loose fighting clothes instead of the tailored suit. He also wished he hadn't quit training last year. He felt ill-prepared for a fight. But these were nothing more than mere thugs. In his prime he could've taken them down with his eyes closed. If he was careful...
"Not so fast, little man."
Krillen's heart leaped into his throat. Somehow, he was looking down the barrel of a machine gun sitting just below a pair of small, black glasses. He hadn't even seen or sensed the movement. One moment the man's back was turned and his arms crossed, the next he was holding the gun an inch away from Krillen's face. Man, he was out of practice!
"I knew you were hiding behind those packages the instant I stepped through the door. I also suspected you might try the hero bit by the way you were able to keep your cool when the bullets started to fly. I'm telling you now to get that thought outta your head. I'm the fastest gun on the continent. Hell, probably the world. So just make the choice to join us or die. Anything else is wasting both our time."
"It may just be my nature," Krillen said, quietly building an energy ball in his hand behind his back, "but I've never been good at making decisions. I think I'll choose door number three!"
Krillen brought his arm around and threw the chi attack straight at Sunglasses' head. The man raised his gun to deflect the energy ball and gave Krillen an opening to launch a flying kick to his stomach. Sunglasses staggered back a step and swung his gun down. The butt of the gun would've connected with Krillen's head, but he was able to move just enough so it landed on his right shoulder instead. Through the adrenaline, he heard more than felt his collarbone snap as he rolled away and spun to face the gunman's next move.
The attack didn't come from Sunglasses. From the corner of his eye, Krillen caught sight of Bandanna aiming his gun. He tried to jump out of the way, but his body felt too sluggish and his muscles unresponsive to this kind of physical abuse. The bullet slammed into the left side of his back, making a larger hole as it exited his stomach. Someone screamed, but he wasn't positive where it came from; possibly his own throat. The pain was excruciating, but he managed to keep himself off the floor. On one knee, he gripped his bleeding stomach and glared up at Sunglasses who towered over him with an amused chuckle.
"Not bad, little man. You got a little bit of talent and whole lot of spunk. With those, you could quickly climb the ranks in our organization. So what do you say? Would you like to be the commander of your own army and fight with us? It'd be a shame to kill someone with such potential."
"I don't plan on being a part of your terrorist army," Krillen said with a groan as he struggled to his feet. He could feel the warm blood running down his leg, but refused to look at the damage in front of these men. "But I don't plan on getting killed either."
Bandanna threw back his head and laughed. "Tough talk from a guy gushin' blood all over the floor."
"So what do you plan on doing?" Sunglasses asked, clearly amused by Krillen's stubborn pride.
"Saving these people from you!" Krillen vowed. He raised his bloody hands in front of his face. "Solar Flare!"
The blinding flash filled the lobby. Everyone tried to shield their eyes, but their pupils were already protesting the onslaught of light. By the time their eyes adjusted enough to see blurry figures, the short man was gone.
"He's in the ventilation shaft," Sunglasses whispered to his partner. He rubbed his eyes, only slightly affected by the point blank light attack, and pointed at the hole near the floor where the grate was broken. "He can sure move fast for an injured rabbit. Go make sure he can't get outside." Bandanna gave a nod and hurried off to the back of the bank. Sunglasses turned back to the startled group. "A short burst of stupidity turned to cowardice. It's a shame he didn't just accept our offer. No one flees from The Jackals."
He saw the implied threat reflected as fear in their eyes and relaxed. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a spark of courage fanned by one stupid lunatic with delusions of heroics. He'd hate to have to eliminate more of his new recruits than absolutely necessary.
Krillen crouched at an intersection in the ventilation duct work to catch his breath and tend to his wound. There was nothing to do with the pain in his shoulder, but he packed the bleeding bullet holes as best he could with ripped pieces of his jacket held in place by his tie. He leaned back against the cool metal wall to rest his overtaxed body and wiped the sweat-soaked hair from his face.
"If I get out of this in one piece, I'll never miss a day of training for the rest of my life! I swear!"
With his good arm, he dug in what was left of his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He flipped open the cover and chose the first name on the list. His thumb left bloody prints on every button he touched even after wiping his hand repeatedly on his pants.
"I'm sorry, Krillen. He's not here," Chi Chi said. "Goku took Gohan, Goten, and Trunks camping for the week. I'm not sure where they went, but I'll tell him you called when he gets back."
Krillen sighed as he pressed the button to disconnect the call. He'd been sure that would be the answer to his predicament. Call Goku, he'd pop in to save the day, and everything would be right with the world once more. Realizing he relied too much on his old friend, he searched his phone list for another name.
"I haven't seen him for about a month now," Bulma said. "Ever since the baby was born, he's complained about her crying. He said he was going someplace quiet. Probably some god-forsaken mountaintop or desert. If you find him, tell him to get his high and mighty princely butt back home and help take care of his daughter for a change."
"I'll be sure to do that," Krillen answered and rolled his eyes. He'd take his chances with the terrorists before he'd ever give Vegeta an order like that.
"Hey, it's Yamcha. I'm probably out on the town, so do your thing at the beep."
"Master Roshi? He's making his monthly trip to the magazine store. He may be a little late. The swimsuit specials came out this week."
"Thanks, Oolong," Krillen sighed and hung up.
"Mighty Hercule here! Champion of the World!"
Krillen hung up. "What was I thinking?" he asked himself and shuddered. "I'm not that desperate! If only I could get a hold of Piccolo or even Tien..."
"Hey, little man!" a voice echoed through the duct work. "We know you're still in there. We got all the exits watched and there's nowhere for you to go. Come on out before we gotta smoke you out."
"Just try it, bandanna man," Krillen whispered and thumbed the last number on his list. He didn't want to, but he had no choice. Swallowing the bad taste of humiliation, he held the phone tight to his ear.
"Krillen? I can't hear you. You're breaking..."
"18? 18! Can you hear me now?" Krillen asked, shifting the phone's direction and tipping it higher for better reception. He looked at the display screen and realized that wasn't the problem. The low battery symbol flashed bleakly a few times and then went blank altogether.
"Of all the rotten luck!" He fell back against the wall and winced as pain shot through both his shoulder and stomach. "Well, there's nothing else to do. But if I have to go, I'm taking Mr. Sunglasses and Mr. Bandanna with me!"
Slowly, he made his way back to the main lobby, following the trail of blood he made on the way in. Weakness threatened to overcome him, but he willed himself to stay focused and alert. If he hadn't lost so much blood, he could've attacked the guys in the back of the bank first. But if he could defeat the leader - maybe with an attack from the safety of the duct work - he might be able to rally the people into action. If they worked together, they could overtake the terrorists and save their own lives.
That was if he could keep it together long enough to get the job done.
"Little man," Bandanna's voice sang through the broken vent grate. "You dead yet? Just thought you'd wanna know we got a better idea than smokin' you out. We're gonna shoot a person for every minute you don't show your ugly face. Startin'...now."
"All right! I'm coming!" Krillen called. He didn't even entertain the notion they might be bluffing. People who wore that much artillery - and kill without remorse those who won't cooperate - don't bluff. He'd just have to wait for a new opportunity to present itself. If he lasted.
"Welcome back," Sunglasses greeted as Krillen pulled himself from the ventilation grate. "You sure made that decision quick. I knew you would. You're one of those types that put other people's safety before your own. A real hero. The problem with being a hero is no one appreciates all your sacrifices, and it's too easy for others to get you to do what they want. Pitiful."
Krillen curbed his anger and focused on standing without weaving. What Sunglasses said filled him with rage, but it was completely true. His weakness was his willingness to protect.
"Let's see what we can get 'im to do!" Bandana crowed with delight. He grabbed the closest person – a young woman with a soft, tear-streaked face – and pressed his pistol to her forehead. The woman flinched at his touch and stuffed a fist in her mouth to stifle her cries. "I betcha he'd join us now."
Sunglasses stood behind Krillen and whispered into his ear. "How about it, little man? Would you agree to join us? Become a powerful, feared member of The Jackals? Sign your life into our hands to save this woman? Or should we just put a nice little hole in her pretty little head? And just so you know, if you choose to sacrifice yourself...we'll still kill her."
The click of the gun cocking echoed through the silent lobby. The woman shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut against the imminent bullet. Krillen's hands shook as he looked into the faces of the other hostages and saw only defeat and resignation of their unknown futures.
"Like lambs to the slaughter."
Krillen wasn't certain he'd spoken his thought aloud until he realized all eyes were turned to him. Encouraged by their attention, he continued. "Or should I say jackals? Not one of you had the guts to refuse their offer of a life of servitude. Not one of you even attempted to stand up for yourselves. Doesn't anyone care if this poor woman dies? You make me sick! Well, I would rather be killed by these scumbags than to agree to do their dirty work." Bandanna's finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger. "But I'm not willing to sacrifice another life for my ideals. Let her go and I'll sign."
Sunglasses gave Bandanna a nod and the gun was lowered. He pushed the woman forward and she stumbled on shaky legs, falling to her knees in front of Krillen. Ignoring his own pains, Krillen stooped to comfort her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered barely loud enough for him to hear.
"It's ok," he whispered back. "It's not your fault."
"Why didn't you get away when you had the chance? We're all dead anyway."
"No. I'll think of something," he promised.
"Enough chit chat," Sunglasses announced. He tossed a paper and pen in front of Krillen. "Sign it."
Krillen glanced through the typed contract basically binding the signer to the service of The Jackals, promising to follow their orders. To break the contract was to forfeit your life by any means The Jackals saw fit. With a lump in his stomach and an ache in his heart for his family, he signed on the dotted line.
"Excellent!" Sunglasses said, whipping the paper away before Krillen even dropped the pen. "We're all in agreement. Now to work out the conditions of our leader's release."
Sunglasses took the papers to the front door and signaled to the police outside. While he talked to the police representative, Bandanna walked around, trying to rally their new troops.
"Welcome to The Jackals! The most feared and respected group in the world! Once we get our leader back, we'll leave this cruddy country and head home. You'll love our country! The people there love us and we get to do whatever we want. You're gonna get to have all the money and do all the stuff you only dreamed of!"
Krillen blocked out the rambling speech. He was tired. Tired and discouraged. He knew he should be working on a way to defeat these men before they managed to free their leader and take them back to their base. But all he could manage was to crawl over to the wall and lean his fevered cheek against the cool marble and rest his beaten body.
"...and that's what you get for trying to use the good citizens of this town for your own dastardly evil plans!"
Krillen pried his eyes open and saw a blurry flutter of cloth out of the corner of his eye. He blinked to clear his vision and forced his head up. People were everywhere. The hostages were being escorted out the front door by uniformed police. Military troops stood around the perimeter of the room with guns at the ready. Reporters interviewed anyone within reach of their cameramen and microphones. Through the chaos, Krillen caught sight of familiar faces.
"Goku!" he called and waved his uninjured arm.
"Hey, Krillen!" Goku answered, walking over to him flanked by Vegeta, Trunks, Goten, and Gohan dressed as Saiyaman.
"Did you get my messages?" Krillen asked, struggling to stand. An ambulance attendant spotted his blood soaked torso and rushed to fuss over his wounds.
"Message?" Goku said, scratching his head in thought. "I didn't get any messages." He looked back at Vegeta, but the other Saiyan just shook his head.
"Then...how did you know I needed help?" He swatted away the attendant's hands, reassuring him he was fine. Now that his friends were here, he felt much stronger.
"We didn't know you were here," Goku shrugged. "Goten and Trunks ate all the food, so we came to town to get more supplies."
Gohan checked to see no one was watching before pressing a button on his watch. The Great Saiyaman costume shimmered and disappeared. "At the store we saw a news bulletin about some terrorists holding people hostage...and here we are."
"Vegeta met us just outside," Goku added, pointing his thumb at the brooding Saiyan.
"I just sensed everyone heading to town and hoped there was a fight somewhere," Vegeta grumbled. "But this was hardly worth my time. I could've gotten more of a workout at home."
Krillen thought of Bulma's message, but didn't think the grumpy Saiyan would appreciate the joke. Obviously his time alone didn't improve his mood. "So what happened? I can't believe I slept through the fight."
"Well..." Goku began, tapping his chin as he recalled the details, "...one guy with a gun started yelling at the police – something about letting a dog free..."
"It was a jackal, dad," Goten corrected.
"...and then he was going to shoot at people, so I took his gun away." Goku jerked his thumb toward several lumps of twisted metal near the door. A pretzel shaped machine gun and chunks of other ruined guns and knives. "He was pretty fast, but once he ran out of weapons he decided to cooperate."
"He begged like a baby," Trunks muttered in disgust.
"What about the other guy?" Krillen asked.
"Vegeta had a talk with the guy wearing sunglasses," Goku said.
"One flick to the forehead and the guy was out like a light," Goten offered.
"He's just lucky he was so weak," Vegeta said. "If I'd used more than that on someone so pathetic, it would've killed him. Not that it matters to me."
"What about the guys in the back?" Krillen asked, feeling both excited about the unfolding events and ashamed of his own weakness.
"Oh yeah. The boys took care of them," Goku said, ruffling Goten's and Trunks' hair. The young Saiyans ducked away from the childish gesture.
"There were only four of them," Goten said.
"And two of them gave up before we even got to have fun with them," Trunks added.
"The one on the roof was a good shot, but his guns didn't have much power," Gohan said, holding up a bullet casing that looked like it had been flattened by a train.
Krillen sighed. To these powerful men, the terrorists were a minor annoyance, easily swatted down like insects. To him they'd been a very real threat, nearly taking his future and his life away from him. A wave of weary depression swept over him and he sank back against the wall. To think he was so far behind his friends, he was actually forced into signing himself into a terrorist army because he was too weak to fight them. If his wife found out, he'd never hear the end of it.
"Well, everything seems taken care of," Goku announced looking around the nearly empty lobby. "Why don't you guys go on ahead and I'll take Krillen home. It won't take long."
They said their farewells and soon Goku and Krillen were left alone. Krillen was glad it was finally over and carefully checked his wound. He had no idea what he was going to tell 18 to explain why there was a hole through his stomach.
"Here," Goku offered, holding out his hand. "I try to keep at least a couple handy for emergencies."
Krillen gratefully accepted the small bean. In a few seconds, he was back to full – yet still measly – strength. "Thanks," he said as he unwrapped the blood-soaked jacket from his fully healed torso. He dropped it and his ruined shirt in a pile and dug a new one out of his shopping load.
"I also found this," Goku said. He handed his friend a slightly crumpled piece of paper from inside his belt. The contract to join The Jackals. "The guy with the sunglasses dropped it. I saw your name and picked it up. When Gohan told us what they were, I made sure to hide it. The police have the rest of them, but I thought you might want to keep this one to yourself."
"B-But they were going to..." Krillen stammered, wanting his friend to believe he had no other choice. "All these people..."
"You don't have to explain," Goku interrupted. He easily lifted the entire stack of Krillen's boxes and bags in one hand and placed the other on the small man's shoulder. "Sometimes they make you an offer you can't refuse. It takes a lot of courage to accept when it counts, my friend."
Krillen smiled up at his childhood partner and tears of gratitude filled his eyes. In a shimmer, both men disappeared, leaving the once chaotic and violent scene vacant and silent.
Author's Note:
This story was written well over 10 years ago (possibly more like 15). I just know it was after the Twin Towers and before the modern terrorist threat of ISIS. My heart goes out to the victims and families of terrorism all over the world. God bless and give them strength to endure.
Much love,
D