Chapter 8
Brought to you by Gue22 and Lilly-sama
Cover by Lilly-sama
Lera Plateau – Southern District – 02H00 AM
A lone figure floated in the air admiring his handy-work. Not even a spec of the large facility remained. In its place a huge 'DB' was Ki- etched into the ground. It was beautifully done - the best one yet in his opinion.
In the midst of his art work sat a bundled up group of ten guards and four scientists that were burning the midnight oil. "Tell your bosses to tell their bosses and their governments that the Delivery Boy's message is still the same: stop building these weapons, or find yourselves bankrupt."
He would have liked to linger a little more to admire his handy work, but his ears were already picking up the oncoming sounds of emergency services and law enforcement. In the distance, the twinkle of flashing lights was getting closer and closer.
It was time to go.
South City – Southern District – 02H05 AM
Groggily, he reached past the sleeping form of his wife, his eyes still closed as he picked up the phone."What is it?" he asked with a husky voice, irritated. It was unseemly to be woken up at this hour. "WHAT?" His eyes snapped open - he was fully awake now. "When exactly?" he hissed harshly, all traces of grogginess gone as his eyes narrowed dangerously in the dark. "I'm driving out right now." He hung up and flung off the covers with more than just a tad of unnecessary force.
Cursing, he flicked on the light and slipped on the black pants previously abandoned on the floor – there was no time to search for his underwear. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!"
"Blue, wha...what's going on?" a groggy voice called out from the bed.
"There's been an attack on the facility in Lera, I'm heading out," he spat without turning around. Roughly he pulled open a drawer and pulled out a t-shirt.
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Sleep Mira," he dismissed, slipping the t-shirt over his head and down baby-blue locks of hair. "I might be a while," he said as he grabbed his keys and slipped out the door.
Ginger City- West District – 03H00 AM
Gohan checked his watch and pulled up the thin fabric of his baklava-like mask. The trip from the Lera in the South Capitol had taken him exactly an hour as planned. Now, under the thick carpet of night, amongst thousands of streetlights illuminating Ginger City, the bright burning power of his own golden energy didn't stand out at all. He was just another twinkling diamond under the star strewn skies – another burning bulb amongst the pulsing city lighting. He sprung from his hiding place and levitated into the air, teal eyes peering down at the large cloud of steam pouring out of the giant cooler's mouth.
This was it – this was the place.
The large facility looked innocent enough: sky-scraping steel towers, parallel runs of insulated wires, large concrete domes thick and strong enough to withstand the force of earthquakes. It looked exactly like the one he was running on Frypan Mountain. Just another nuclear power plant hard at work to create vast amounts of electrical energy coursing through transmission lines to sustain the bustling life of the villages, towns and metropolises around Ginger City. Yes, it looked innocent enough, but Gohan knew better.
Sure, most of the Son Inc. uranium being used here was directed towards this legitimate activity—in the concrete domes, uranium was enriched to give off massive amounts of heat, the heat boiling water to create high pressurized steam to turn the large turbines of the copper-coiled generator to create electricity. The proof was in the overbearing heat and humidity shrouding him as the cooling tower puffed out steam like a giant cigar in the wind. But...buried deep within the solid structure of the plant lay a laboratory whose operations were anything but legitimate.
It was in this lab that uranium isotopes were being converted into highly radioactive plutonium injections to be shipped to various 'facilities'. Just before the incident with Yamcha and Videl Satan, he had successfully destroyed five such facilities posing as free treatment centers for the impoverished. Their true nature, however, was the abhorrent administration of these injections into unsuspecting human subjects. Under the guise of 'treatment research,' the patients were carefully observed in order to track and measure the detrimental effects of plutonium in the human body.
Scowling underneath his mask, Gohan surveyed the layout bellow him as he recalled the detailed plans of the plant's blue-prints. Unlike the complete annihilation of an entire missile assembling facility in South City earlier in the evening—with only a fiery, burning DB blazing from the ground—destroying this entire plant was impossible. Ginger City would be brought to its knees by the consequences of a power outage. No...his target was the secret lab. Not a scrap of it would remain after tonight. Then he'd visit the homes of the three people on his list—the unscrupulous scientists running the show to ensure that they never got the opportunity to create plutonium again.
He could almost hear a bitter feminine laugh blowing out with the wind as the face of a smug Agent Tan flashed into his mind at his resolve. Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think. I'm not some kind of monster you know. I'm not going to kill anyone, he shot back at her defensively as if they had some kind of telepathic connection. Thankfully the realisation of his bizarre behaviour hit home before he could get carried away. Focus Gohan. Don't let those stone-cold blue eyes unnerve you. You're doing the right thing.
Clearing his thoughts, Gohan descended to the roof and got to work.
West City – West District – 04H00 AM
Irritated, Videl hauled herself from her little corner and paced the short length of her 'room'.
Eight meals! It had been eight meals since she'd asked to see Gohan and...nothing. Not a word. She hated this! She hated uncertainty more than anything. No matter how unpleasant or ugly the truth – she preferred the comfort of its certainty over this...this...agonizing suspended state of limbo! All the uncertainty surrounding her situation was driving her crazy. She couldn't really sleep or feel calm; her appetite was starting to dwindle once again and it was all because of that feeling: the uncertainty about the authenticity of the blue-haired woman's information, the uncertainty about the guilt of her boss...the uncertainty about the innocent blood on her hands.
Damn it! She rubbed her face. The uncertainty about her request! Was that Gohan guy going to accept her request and come and see her or not? Grr...how she hated the uncertainty of unanswered questions.
"And I hate this fucking smell!" she yelled, ramming a fist into the wall. "Ah! Fuck!" She winced, grabbing her hand as she pulled back. What the hell were these walls made out of anyway? Damn it! Damn it!
She knew she was a prisoner, she accepted that, but on top of the intense cravings for a cig — since that witch's visit, the irritability and headaches that went with it had gotten worse — she was also more than just sick of smelling like stale sweat. Though she was grateful to have been 'upgraded' from her previous dungeon to this room with an actual toilet and sink; a bit of soap, some anti-percipient and clean clothes would go a long way towards making her feel like a human being again. Kami damn it! She was going to go mad behind these walls if she didn't get some answers soon.
Giving up on the fruitless pacing, she settled back into her little spot and sat down on the floor with her back resting against the wall. She fingered the file that the blue-haired woman had brought for her and began to look over its contents once again. Sitting on the floor she removed all the pages and spread them out in front of her, her eyes darting haphazardly from job to job.
"I wouldn't want to visit me either, smelling like this, looking like this," she mumbled, looking herself over. Truth be told, she was probably just setting herself up for disappointment by hoping he'd come. She'd been nothing but a complete bitch to him in their dealings. She'd made two attempts on his life, spat in his face and repeatedly mocked his efforts at civility. Really, why wouldhe come?
Still, it's not as if she had anything better to do in here. She couldn't even sleep. Holding on to the hope that he'd come, rehearsing the lines she'd feed him if he did, was certainly better than thinking about the faces of the targets she'd eliminated. Funny how in the past, prior to this mess, thinking about their cold and unmoving corpses, eternally neutralized and unable to cause harm ever again had always brought her comfort. She would think of them and fall into a peaceful dreamless sleep, knowing that the world was better off. But now...since eight meals ago—as she roamed her eyes over her list of terminations, looking at all these dead faces—that sense of comfort, that security was now shattered.
She brought her hands up to her face, staring at them dispassionately; they were trembling, unable to keep still. She wished she was able to say for sure that it was only withdrawal making her this way. Surely she wasn't feeling guilty over something she was yet to confirm as the truth? Guilt was something Del Tan had no time to indulge in. It was nothing but a handicap out in the field, a waste of time. And besides, she had spent so much time as Videl Satan drowning in it. This was one of the reasons she'd done everything she could to severe any remnants of that teenage girl out of Del Tan. But now she needed the opposite, she needed to scrape together any bits and pieces of that naive and arrogant girl from the recycle bin.
She needed to assemble her back together somehow, allow her to climb out and take center stage. She was simply no good at dealing with people as Del, and if Gohan did come, she would need every last bit of Videl to come out and somehow talk that sap into helping her.
07H15 AM – Origano City – Central District
Impho Pho could best be described as a cliché of the ideal man. He was tall, dark and strikingly handsome. His designer suits were tailor made and imported from Satan City, his shoes custom made with alligator skin, linen twine and glove-soft goatskin. They were even topped off with a real golden buckle. He cut his own hair and kept it styled in an orderly fashion using extra strong gel. He was as meticulous about his appearance as he was about everything else in his life. But his physical appearance spelled the end of the line for anything clichéd about him. The rest was rather exceptional.
At the age 42, Impho Pho was as accomplished as he was impressive to the eye. He was sitting at the top of the world's most secret and dangerous organization. He wielded power akin to none other on the whole planet. Sure, there was the world saviour – a man Impho Pho detested with a passion. See, Hercule may have very well been the strongest, most known and loved figure in the world, but the man was a buffoon—a simpleton that was incapable of using his influence to bring the world to order. Impho Pho had no use for such a man. And sure, there was also the World President — another he had no tolerance for. Under his clumsy reign, the world had fallen under anarchy and disorder. From alien invasions to ridiculously powerful creatures whose origins still remained mysterious. No, the World President was not even worth a mention, he was just an obstacle in his way to achieving ultimate order.
Above all, Impho Pho was an impatient man. On any given day, you'd catch him glancing at his watch and tapping his left foot in agitation. It was this impatience that made his manner brusque and kept his words short. Most of his agents disliked him, even though they feared and respected him. The man detested things that dragged or lingered. His life was ruled by the soothing tick of the clock and the desire for order.
His foot tapping anxiously underneath his desk, he glanced at his watch, cursing as he cut the satellite connection. The conference call with the clients from the nuclear facilities in Lera and Ginger Town had dragged on long after what had needed to be said was said. Understandably the guys in Lera were livid – not a trace of their facility remained after last night. The ones in Ginger Town less so—the destruction of the lab was an inconvenient set-back, but the main assembling facility was still in-tact. However, listening to them bitch on and on for an hour on a Sunday morning was a waste of time. He glanced again at the three heads of his favourite possession – his wristwatch – and frowned. See, most people didn't seem to realise this but the most important invention ever made in the history of mankind was a wristwatch. Strapped snugly on the left or the right, it spoke of class, taste, functionality, punctuality and ultimately order. And that damn call had lasted too long, a useless activity that served only to delay the constructive measures needed to put this mess Agent Tan had created back into order.
He slid the piece of paper on his large desk an inch down just so it would be level with the corner of his laptop. Pushing his chair back, he rose from his seat, deliberately ignoring the two incoming calls from the players in the East and North. He could see their names flashing impatiently on his screen. Picking up would waste even more of his time. Besides, he could already sum up the crux of what they wanted to know. They were understandably on edge given the confirmation that their mutual enemy was still at large despite having been told otherwise. What they really wanted to yap on and on about was simple — after the attacks from last night, were their own facilities next?
He hated this Delivery Boy, this audacious, self-righteous and not to mention super-powerful hybrid. He was fucking with his carefully laid out plans for order and even more, he was the reason why his Sunday itinerary was interrupted. Interruptions were a clear symptom of poor planning and disorder. With his handsome face devoid of any patience or amusement, he moved across the room and unlocked the safe, pulling out one of the numerous phones inside.
He placed a call.
"Agent, what's the progress? Have you been able to locate Agent Tan?" he spoke into the receiver, his eyes staring at his reflection on his spotless table. "I see, I see. Still no trace." He then scowled. "Let's put the search on hold for a while shall we? Her last target is still very much alive, still very much at large, unabashedly terrorizing the world." He held the phone against his ear, listening as the agent on the other end of line filled him in until...his foot began to tap impatiently. "That's useless to me right now Agent Khakhi. All useless. We can proceed under the assumption that she's been killed or worse." A frown. "In her absence, you're this agency's number one now. I'm pulling you from the search; I'll give that to someone else." A pause, and then ripples of anger ran down his face now. "Protesting orders is not in your job description Khakhi, don't waste valuable time." Another glance at his watch. "Your new orders are to find this target, identify him and bring the info in; everything Agent Tan uncovered has unfortunately been lost with her." Another frown as he spotted a stray hair in his reflection. "We have one lead: he's the son of an ex-martial arts champion – Son Goku." His mouth fell into a straight line as his face furrowed in impatience.
"Do not even think about engaging him, understood? Just bring in full surveillance once he's identified. That's all for now agent."
He cut the line.
11H17 AM – East District – 439 Mountain Area
Gohan grabbed both ends of his pillow and covered his head, but it was no use. He could still hear his brother pounding on his door. Why? Why did his house have to be so close to home? He never got any privacy. "So much for moving out," he grumbled.
"I don't care if its titanium or what this time 'round, I'll just break it down again Gohan," yelled Geten from his front door. "Stop kidding around and open up!" Goten continued to pound on the door.
Gohan sighed, tossing the pillow aside. It was useless as a sound barrier anyway. "Please go away Squirt, I'm trying to sleep!"
"Tell that to Bulma! She's screaming my ear off on my cell. She says both your lines are switched off and that it's an emergency! I'm counting to three and then I'm busting in Gohan. Your choice!" yelled Goten.
"Damn it!" Gohan threw off the covers, marching downstairs in a huff to open the door. An emergency? His heart hammered just a little louder. He'd been AWOL the whole weekend taking care of DB business so if something had happened with Videl Satan, he wouldn't know a thing about it. Damn it! He just hoped that everything was okay.
Goten blinked. One minute he was standing outside the door about to kick it down; the next it had opened and shut in his face, the only evidence that his brother had come out being the missing phone from his hand. "I'm telling Mom that you slammed the door in my face!" he shouted before storming off.
"What's the emergency Bulma? Is it Videl Satan?" Gohan exclaimed anxiously into the phone.
"Ooh! My! You must have a thing for your little prisoner. You hear emergency and the first person you're concerned for is our resident agent, eh? I'm hurt," teased Bulma.
"Don't even kid about that. What's the emergency? Is she okay?" He stood in his hallway, his face tilted to the side, imposing the cell between his cheek and neck while his other hand was leaning his weight against the wall.
Bulma sighed. "Would you quit asking me about her? She's the same as when you last saw her okay? She hasn't crushed a cyanide tablet in her mouth or anything worthy of a good spy movie. The emergency is not in my basement. It's with you dumbass."
"With me?" Gohan blinked, confused.
"Tell me, have you seen the news lately?" enquired Bulma.
"The news? No. Not really. I've been busy, I was out...late." He moved his hand from the wall and rubbed his eyes. He was actually still rather sleepy. He'd only gone to bed three hours ago.
"Oh, I know that Mr Delivery Boy. I know you've been out on the town, blowing up buildings, having a real blast. Pun intended. Tell me Gohan, are you out of your fricking mind?" Her voice rose to a screech. "Or do you have a death wish?"
"You know about last night? How come? And why are you so worked up about it anyway? I'd already told you guys tha-"
"Why am I so...why am I so worked up?" she screamed, cutting him off. "Have you forgotten a certain agency under a certain Mr. Pho that's out to kill you? Have you?"
Gohan winced. No one could hurt his ears like Bulma or his mom. "Of course not Bulma. I haven't forgotten. Their agent can't hurt me now. She doesn't have the means," he reasoned.
"Urgh! Would you stop making everything about her?" screeched Bulma. "Damn it! Use your brain for crying out loud. You practically spat in the agency's face last night with all your scribblings, boldly declaring that you're alive and well, and out to get its clients. You think Impho Pho is just gonna sit it out and wait for his top agent to resurface before he tries again?"
"I just-"
"He won't!" She cut him off. "He could very well be sending out every one of his agents to get you right now." She emphasized the last two words.
Gohan frowned, his face etched in seriousness. "Let them come, I'll be ready for them."
"You lunatic!" Her voice rose even higher this time. "You're strong, but you're not immortal! The 66 should have taught you that!"
"I never said that I was imm-"
"Let me finish!" she screeched so much that he had to hold the phone away from his ear. "They could have any number of tricks and bio-weapons at their disposal, and depending on the different kinds, they could target you and unleash them anywhere at any time. If they get desperate, they may not care who else they take down in order to get to you. You are a businessman Gohan, don't forget that to Pho, this is just business – think!"
"I..." His throat dried up. Something like the 66 or worse being released at his office where there were hundreds of employees just to get to him sent chills down his spine. No, he hadn't thought about it quiet like that when he'd made the decision to act this weekend.
"You were safe when they thought you were dead; we could have used the time to gather evidence via a legal route and put a stop to them. But you had to be all dumb and macho like a crazed Saiyan. Humph! You've really done it this time Kiddo."
"I didn't mean to put anyone else in danger. Those facilities had to be taken out. I did what had to be done."
"Oh? Well, okay then hero. Congratulations, you're officially a world-wide sensation now. Those scientists you tossed out of the lab had their phones on them. They recorded everything; nice mask by the way."
"So that's how you knew so fast," he said lamely.
"Like I said – world-wide sensation. Turn on any news channel or website and there you are. Your little speech seems to be very popular. Heard the guys from Satan Toys are thinking of turning you into an action figure – as a villain."
"Great," he muttered, scowling.
"Just remember that Pho most probably knows your identity, you have to be careful."
"I will. Thanks Bulma," he sighed. "And sorry if this puts you in the line of fire."
"Well on the up-side, Vegeta's out of the gravity room, acting all protective. At least he's actually spending time with his wife like a normal human being."
"Do not insult me Bulma. I am not a human being!" Gohan heard Vegeta protest in the background.
Bulma merely giggled. "By the way, I forgot to tell you, I shared Pho's file with Videl a few days ago."
A tension immediately developed in his stomach. "You did?" His breath quickened. "And?" he exhaled slowly, anxious to hear if the information had touched her in any way at all.
"Listen to you. Kami, you're so transparent. She asked to see you. That's all."
The tension spread itself higher, settling heavily in his shoulders. "She did?"
"Yep!" chirped Bulma.
"Well, I..." He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. What was it with him? Why did he want her to change so badly? Would a flicker of remorse on her face make him feel better about the attempts she'd made on his life? He didn't know. He didn't have an answer. Just that...he wanted to see her reaction to the file as soon as possible. That's all he knew for a fact.
"You still there Gohan?"
"Uh, yeah. I have a Lil'Bandits baseball game later, can't miss it. Need to sleep a bit before then. The kids have really been training hard for this so...I guess I'll stop by and see her after."
"No rush. She's already waited so long anyway. A few more hours to make her squirm a bit more suit me just fine."
"That's a mean thing to say Bulma. I'm not trying to make her squirm. Today is just a bit tight, that's all." he said defensively.
"Feh. Like I care," dismissed Bulma. "Just be sure to stop by my lab after, you hear? Oh and say hello to Yamcha for me."
"No problem, I will."
"Right then. Good luck on the game Coach Son," she giggled.
"Thanks. We'll talk about Capsule Corp's co-sponsorship of the team when I come, right?"
"Goodbye Gohan. Don't forget to give Goten back his phone," she immediately hung up.
Gohan chuckled.
19H20 PM – West District - Capsule Corp.
Gohan held onto the key longer than was necessary before making the decision to finally insert it. He was already here, so lurking outside the door felt kind of silly. It was silly to feel nervous about seeing her. After all, this time round, he didn't have an agenda, he was only here because she'd asked for him. Best to get this over and done with. He started to turn the key, but stopped, pulling it out again.
"The next time you want to bore me with pointless monologues, do me a favour and bring some cigarettes with you. I could use a smoke."
That was the last thing she'd said to him. Actually, that was the only constant in their few conversations – her desire to pollute her lungs with nicotine. It was cruel he supposed, keeping an addict locked up like that with nothing but cravings for company, even though in the long run it would do her a world of good to just quit the nasty habit. He sighed, turning around and walking away from the door.
He meandered back to the third floor and scrounged around Bulma's lab. Sure enough, he found several boxes of cigarettes in one of her cupboards. He grabbed a box and made his way back to the basement.
Standing outside her door once again, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he let himself in.
Blue eyes bored at him from her favourite spot on the floor. Several pages from the file Bulma had shared with her lay on the floor, spread out in front of her as if she were putting together a puzzle.
Gohan pushed the door shut behind him and waited. "You wanted to see me?"
"That was nine meals ago."
"Yeah I know, but if the invitation's expired..." he shrugged, turning right back around as if to head out—
"No!" she yelled."That's not what I meant. I mean it's not like I expected you to drop everything and come rushing over—I know you're busy. I just meant...all that waiting, I...I...just didn't know if you were gonna come." She fidgeted with her hands. "I haven't exactly given you reason to wanna see me, have I?" She tried for a weak smile which failed. "The shooting and virus and all that..." she trailed off. Okay, so this wasn't going so well.
"I was just out of town on a few errands, but I'm here now."
"Yes. Thanks, I...I'm grateful that you're here."
"Oh, I...I brought you these." He dug into his pocket and pulled out the box of cigarettes as he began to take a few steps in her direction."I don't smoke so I don't know if they're any good."
Videl stared up at the box on offer with huge disbelieving eyes. Her heart was already pounding with anticipation as she accepted it with a shaky hand. Just the feel of the glossy texture, the way the pressure from her fingertips could trace the individual rolls inside the soft packet was enough to quicken her breathing. Before he could change his mind, she tore through the seal on the packet and pulled one out, placing it between her lips. Her eyes darted about almost desperately when she realised that she didn't have a light.
"Oh, erm...didn't think about that," Gohan picked up on her predicament. "Here," he said, offering a finger.
Slightly startled by the sudden appearance of a hot golden glow, Videl moved her face back, but the cigarette had already caught fire and Gohan had already moved away from her. He was already standing behind the door again.
"Sorry if that startled you," he apologised.
Videl was already over it. That first drag, that smooth burn down her throat and lungs, the feel of that nicotine seeping into the bloodstream was better than anything she had ever experienced. With smoke blowing out from her mouth and nose, Videl sighed in pleasure as she took another drag.
Gohan coughed. He couldn't help it. Though his sharpened senses were mostly beneficial, they also had their draw backs. He had been in the presence of Bulma indulging like this numerous times, but by Kami he had never seen her go through a cigarette quiet as fast or with as much fervent pleasure as Videl Satan was doing now right now. It almost felt as if it was something he should be giving her privacy to indulge in.
"I...thank you for this. I feel almost human again," said Videl, a small satisfied smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. It was perhaps the first appreciative tone Gohan had ever heard from her.
"You're welcome." He scratched his head, feeling silly for some reason. "Most people with arsonphobia don't smoke."
"Yeah, I know. It was dumb to think I could somehow get a handle on it, if I lit little flames near my face everyday. ah well." She chuckled. "I know you're a busy man so I'll get straight to the point."
Gohan straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets.
"I'd like to be able to apologise to you in the future, and even though I don't expect your forgiveness, I..." She paused to clear her throat. "If all this..." she pointed at the pages before her, "if all of this is true then I-"
"You doubt Bulma?" He sounded incredulous.
"It wouldn't be the first time fabricated information was used against me," she shrugged. "Look Gohan, you seem like a good person, you really do; which is perhaps the only reason why I'm not dismissing all this information that your friend dumped on me. If the last seven years of my life have been a lie, I..." she shook her head. "I need to verify it so I can take responsibility and do something about it."
"It's all genuine you know, Bulma would never try to deceive you like that."
"I know how you see me. You think I've changed from the girl you read about in the papers. You think I somehow switched sides from good to bad, but you're wrong you know. I'm still her, just less...naive, less arrogant. I used to jump in head first, kicking and swinging and at the end of the day, I'd have the bad guys nicely tucked in behind bars." She smiled nostalgically. "But I grew up." The smile disappeared. "And now I slowly and carefully move in the shadows to eliminate the monsters that prowl our world."
"You can't just kill people, even the guilty ones. It's wrong."
"Feh, let's just agree to disagree on that one shall we? I have no tolerance for those that would take the lives of innocent people. Do that and you've as good as forfeited your own life. I take the defence of others very seriously. Besides, capital punishment the world over is and will forever be a controversial topic."
Gohan scowled. "Assassinating people in the shadows is not capital punishment. Not that I'm in favour of the latter either."
Videl chuckled, "Like I said, let's not argue this one. I'm not trying to convince you to see it my way. No two people can have identical values."
"I don't think I could be content with not trying to convince you to see things differently. I'm sorry."
"I can understand that. You value human life, even the not-so-worthy ones. Which is why I need your help."
"My help?"
"I need to get to the bottom of this," she said as she pointed towards the documents. "If Pho is guilty," her eyes flashed something dangerous, "then he needs to be stopped."
"Agreed. Just give Bulma some time. She'll find a way to assemble enough information to go to the authorities and—"
"Are you fucking joking? The authorities? Don't be so damn naive."
Gohan set his mouth in a straight line. This girl could be so rude. "Bulma has very good contacts," he said stubbornly.
"I'm sure she does. And I'm sure she wouldn't want any of them to end up on this list for poking their noses in his business!"
Gohan flinched from the harsh tone.
"Look Gohan, I meant what I said. The defence of others – I take that very seriously. That is the one thing that Videl Satan, Del Tan and that little boy that stood up against Cell all have in common – the will to put ourselves on the line in order to put out monsters that would hurt the helpless. Putting a long list of authorities on this matter can only end in tragedy for them and their families." She fingered the soft cigarette pack and crossed her feet underneath her. She tilted her face up at him, those blue eyes taking on an extra dimension as they held his. "Help me. Let me out of here and let me take care of this matter without endangering anyone."
Gohan stared down at her in disbelief. "Let you out?"
"Yes. Please." Long lashes met with the base of her eyelid as she blinked, still holding his gaze.
Gohan frowned. Her voice was so soft, he found himself having trouble reconciling it to the usual dry and sarcastic one.
"I'll use some contacts in the intelligence agency under one of my inactive aliases," she continued, "I'll get the facts straight and bring my boss, hell I'll bring the whole agency down. Just get me out of here, please."
That softness in her voice again. Gohan stared down at her. Without the rag around her forehead, with longer hair hanging in pig-tails on her shoulders, he could very well have been looking at the eyes of the girl he'd spent so much time staring at in the pictures from the archives. He could see the same unquestionable confidence, the same uncompromising resolve and to his surprise, he felt a small pull in his gut from that youthful beauty. He had to remind himself that though similar, this was no longer the same girl. "I'm sorry Videl, but I can't just set you free. The last time I let you go you—"
"I know." She turned her face away momentarily. "I know." She closed her eyes and shook her head. Gripping the soft pack she jumped to her feet and took two steps towards him. She would have taken four or five more, but refrained. It would be embarrassing to get too close smelling as she did. "I know you have no reason to trust me, I know that but—"
"No, I don't." Gohan folded his arms across his chest. "You're dangerous."
"Then keep an eye on me!" she blurted. "Place an ankle-bracelet on my ankle to restrict and monitor my movements, whatever you want. Just...please I'm begging you." She forgot to keep her distance and took the last few steps towards him. "I have to get to the bottom of this. I can't sit back and wait. I can't allow him to sit in that big office of his, armed with the world's best assassins, plotting the demise of more innocent people!" she said heatedly, imagining him in those ridiculous suits, fixing his hair as he glanced at his watch, dismissing an agent after issuing a false assignment. That thought just got her crazy! "I haven't been able to sleep, I...if I've killed innocent people then I..." she swallowed, unconsciously touching his arm, gripping rather hard as she exhaled. "Gohan, I know I'm your prisoner. You can do with me what you wish after, but I...I'll follow whatever rules, I'll do whatever you want, just...please, please." She tilted her face up to his, her eyes fluttering with hopeful luster. "Let me root this out. You and I, let's do it together."
"I'm sorry, but no. I just don't trust you."
"I see." She let go of his arm and turned around. "I understand."
Let us know how the story is going so far. Till next time...
