Hoo boy. This is precisely what happens when certain warped authoresses listen to a tad bit too much A.F.I.. I had 'Miseria Cantare (The Beginning)' on loop when this little ficlet popped into my head and refused to leave. It was one of those drop-everything-including-the-math-homework-you're-in-the-middle-of-and-find-a-sheet-of-paper instances, you know?
MT: I hate it when you have those 'instances', because it usually leads to my untimely demise in the way of deathfics.
No worries, Trunks-chan, it didn't this time. What have you been up to lately, anyways? You never help me with authoress notes anymore.
MT: That's because my sensei seems to have taken over that duty as well as your job of reviewer maintenance.
Yeah, and? Say, where is that baka koi of mine?
MT: Playing video games. Where else would he be?
…good point. Anyhoo, before this A/N gets longer than the ficlet, on with the story!
MT: *clears throat*
Did I corrupt you to doing disclaimers?
MT: Yes, and I'll do it anyways. If Ani owned DBZ, I would have died long before the Cell Games. *shudders*
Sankyuu! Now, on with the fic!
~*~
Miseria Cantare
Nothing from nowhereI'm no one at all
Radiate
Recognize one silent call
As we all form one Darkflame Incinerate Love… …your hateYour… …faith lost
You… …are now
One… …of us
He awoke with a start and stared about the room, his optical scanners not quite functioning properly yet. He blinked a couple of times and sat up. Something in the mechanics of his systems was off, but he couldn't tell what.
He looked up at the doorway as a young woman with blonde hair stepped into the room. She smiled at him, reached over to the keyboard on the desk and typed something, then hit Enter. She walked over to the bed and sat down, then gently brushed his shoulder-length hair aside and unplugged the cord on the back of his neck at the base of his skull. "There, that should feel better," she said as she got up. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, then shivered as the cool draft from the doorway hit him. He only then realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Where are my clothes?" he asked, his voice sounding oddly foreign for some reason. A look of confusion crossed his face as he ran his hand over his throat.
"In the top drawer," she responded as she sat down at the computer. As he got up off the bed, he caught a glimpse of the screen. There was an image of a young man, appearing to be in his twenties, with short black hair and a scar across one eye pulled up.
He walked across the room and yanked the drawer opened. "What are you doing?" he asked, digging through the clothes. He pulled out a black tank top and put it on, then walked over to the computer. He leaned down a bit so that the screen was at eye level. There was a list of stats on the screen beside the picture, the most prominent being that this young man had apparently died about four years earlier. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck again.
"I'm just working on your programming. Something was wrong—I think that your body was rejecting the cybernetic additions."
He raised one eyebrow. "Weird."
She nodded, then closed out of the program she was in. "What's bothering me is the fact that your systems are a little more advanced than mine. If your circuits can go haywire, it's amazing that mine haven't yet."
"I thought programming was Jukugou's job," he said as she stood up.
"Well, it is. I just felt like seeing what I could do."
He snorted. "I'm surprised my entire system hasn't been fried if you were the only one working on me." She reached over and cuffed him lightly in the back of the head.
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, my dear brother."
He smirked. "Anytime, sis." He stretched his arms over his head, then popped his neck. "I'm bored. Let's go find something to do."
"Like what? We just blew up an entire city yesterday."
"You did. I wasn't with you. Anyways, why not go play with the humans today? It's not like there's anyone to stop us."
They both looked up as another walked in the door—a teenage boy with a red bandanna around his neck. "Exactly. You're one of us now."
He blinked in confusion and brushed a stray strand of lilac hair from his eyes. "When was I not?"
"Never mind. Come on, Juhachigou, let's take him out for a while. After all, Nijusangou needs to get a good workout, to make sure his programming is working right."
She smiled. "Oh, I think it is. So, where shall we go, kid? You wanna finish off the rest of West Capitol?"
The smirk returned to his face, and for an instant, he was a mirror of the long-dead Saiyan Prince. "Sure. I need to return this," he said, picking up the denim Capsule Corporation jacket.
~*~
MT: *growls low and death-glares Ani*
Eheh…sorry?
MT: Not likely. You enjoy torturing me, don't you?
Um…well…I plead the fifth!
MG: *walks in with a Red Fusion* Hey, guys! What's—uh, little bro? You alright?
MT: You know that fic by Android 71, 'Remember Me', right?
MG: …yeah, why?
MT: This sadistic little authoress girlfriend of yours just wrote a mini-fic about me becoming an android.
MG: *raises one eyebrow* Oh yeah? Huh. Hey, Ani, when's dinner? I'm hungry.
MT: *slaps forehead* You're always hungry, Gohan-san! You don't even care about the stupid fic, do you?!
When has he ever cared about anything when his stomach is what's doing the thinking?
MT:*exasperated, leaves the room*
MG: Hey, what's up with Trunks?
Beats me. Mom's almost done with dinner, I think. It's starting to smell good in here. Hey, minna, be nice and review. Love it? Hate it? Want more? What do you think? Well, ja ne!