Disclaimer: see previous chaps.

Smoggy

Three warriors of a dying race loomed at the entrance of the ship surveying the decaying spaceport sprawled before them. Vegeta felt a warm smugness at the anxiety on the faces of the dock-hands; he still had it.

"Cripes Vegeta, this place smells like ass!" Goten waved a hand before his face causing a vapor eddy to swirl as Trunks erupted into a fit of overly theatrical coughs.

The caustic gritty smog of a spaceport still infused his skin, yet sent the thrill of ripe anticipation through him. Vegeta smirked, not all memories of his time with Frieza were painful.

Shadow

The setting sun cast a shadow of the warrior on the still pond. He stared at his silhouette wishing it would explain to him his new identity. The voices in his head weren't always his, sometimes they were the whispers of the other two who lived in his mind; not his soul though. Whatever soul he did have was his.

Good, evil, valor; he was all of them now, but who was he? One entity and yet so disjointed. They were beginning to fade into his sub-consciousness but would never leave him. He is an unfamiliar man, a new Namekian.

Satellite

Two fists impacted sending a sonic boom rippling across the deserted canyon. The warriors brought an abrupt halt to their training. They both felt the heavy presence of impending danger hovering above their adopted planet. The threats never ceased, weather it was Goku's power or Vegeta's reputation, there would always be some menace arriving on Earth. Fortunately, they were programmed with a primal urge for combat.

"Come Kakarott, let's dispense with this idiot, then get back to training."

"Aww, Vegeta, how 'bout we kick his butt, get some lunch, then train some more?"

"Oh, fine then. I am rather hungry."

Stiletto

Now, Bulma was pissed. This should have been a quick easy "ball grab". For once the damn thing was hiding in the midst of civilization. No special equipment, no angry natives, no Krillin whining about getting killed. The plan was ideal; pick up the ball, then go clubbing at that trendy "Blue Parrot". But no, this brainless mouth-breather had to give her attitude.

She slipped the gun back into her purse and ground the red and black heel of her right Leboutein into the fresh wound. "Now how 'bout you tell me where that little gold ball is hiding, mister."

Sudden

Yesterday seemed different. The second I held her, I understood how Vegeta could change his life and became a decent man. I used to envy the strength it took to sacrifice himself, now I see it really didn't take much thought. At the same time, I question how Dad could willingly leave us for seven years. How could he miss out on holding Goten for the first time? Everything Mom bugged me about; my studies, getting into respected schools, it was for this moment.

In an instant, everything has changed. I'm not Gohan the half-alien kid anymore, I'm someone's father.

I think this is about does it. I just don't feel the writing mojo anymore. Thanks for reading.

Peace…

-cube