This chapter is brought to you by Boboleta and ShadowMajin
The relaxing sound of violins and cellos filled the air. People filled out the royal plaza, animately talking, laughing, and eating to their hearts content. Royalty and politicians kept to themselves as the commoners took their own side of the place, each fulfilling their own ideas of a good time.
Tables and chairs were strategically placed all over to provide places for the party-goers to sit down and eat. Longer, food-laden tables were not too far away either where lines of people waited to fill their plates. Servants were dashing all over the place, replenishing empty trays with the kitchen's latest creations. Others were mingling with the party-goers, carrying trays with drinks and appetizers.
And at the center of this scene was Chichi, giving out orders to the staff to ensure this party was one for the ages. "You, replace that shrimp platter, it's almost empty. I need more cheeses, the brie, not the stilton this time. How is the cake coming along? Is that baker done with it yet? He's not? Then tell him to hurry his lazy ass up!"
Checking the watch that was fastened around her wrist, she noted the time. "Okay, the song is about to end and that means the fireworks should be going off in five… four… three…"
As she trailed off, the music softly ended, and was promptly followed by the shrill screams as small rockets flew up into the sky. Explosions erupted, sending brightly shining flames everywhere in various shades of red, green, and purple. The crowd oohed and awed at the spectacle, a light clapping occurring shortly thereafter.
Staring up at the show for a moment, Chichi allowed herself that moment's respite before she was giving out more orders. "Alright, it's time to stop bringing out the Grenache and begin serving the Chenin Blanc. All servers back to the kitchen! How's the main courses coming along? Already on the fire? Good."
A loud, deep laugh echoed over the din of the party, causing Chichi to stop and turn. She found Papa surrounded by various officials and members of his court, everyone laughing at some joke that had been made. Once more, the Ox Princess paused as she watched her father. He was having a good time right? Of course he was, he was laughing! So far, everything was going off without a hitch. With renewed vigor, she turned to begin issuing another set of orders when she caught sight of Goten lounging at a nearby table.
That made her frown. A young man should never slouch while sitting, especially in a suit. And yet, that's what her youngest son was doing as he casually observed the party. Approaching him as her silky dress rustled against her, she came to a stop next to the young man and crossed her arms over her chest. "And what do you think you're doing?"
Goten lazily tilted his head towards her before he shot up in his chair, straightening out his posture as his hands went to smooth down his wrinkled dress shirt. "Hey Mom, how's it going?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Making sure the servants are performing their duties adequately, seeing that certain young men are adhering to proper etiquette."
Goten winced at that. "Don't worry, I am," he mumbled.
Chichi reached down and began straightening out his tie. "You're a handsome boy, Goten. Don't go ruining that by looking like a delinquent. Now, have you visited the Cultural Attache from the Bull Country?"
Her younger son began to roll his eyes, but stopped, thinking better of it. "I have. He wouldn't stop talking about his new wife."
"Did he give you any tips?" the Ox Princess pressed as she began pulling on the sleeves of his jacket, pulling out any wrinkles she could.
"Only how to pick up girls a third my age. I'm really considering his words."
Chichi stopped her fussing. "Goten, just ignore everything he said."
A small smile worked its way onto the boy's lips. "Okay, Mom."
Well, that hadn't gone the way she wanted. Though he wasn't as shy as her older son, Goten did have a little trouble keeping girlfriends. She had hoped a newly married man would help the boy in that department, but she hadn't known who the diplomat had married—a mistake on her part.
Deciding to change the subject, Chichi glanced around the party in search of her other son, once more frowning when she didn't see him. "Where's your brother, Goten?"
Goten shrugged his shoulders before replying, "Last I heard he was on his way. He called me not too long ago and said he was running a little late. He should be here soon."
Now, if Chichi wasn't thrilled about poor posture, she definitely did not tolerate tardiness. Gohan should have been here the moment the party started—in fact before it. She had hammered that point into both of her childrens' heads, but apparently it hadn't taken with one of them. She wasn't sure how that happened unless… oh no, it couldn't be! Was one of her well-mannered children a… a… delinquent?! Oh woe was her! Where did she go wrong?!
Reaching to the clutch bag that was firmly gripped beneath her arm, she reached into it and began rubbing her hand against the hard, round surface of the dragonball she kept there. Yes, Goku would calm her down, he always did.
That still wasn't going to stop the lecture she had ready for when Gohan finally showed up.
Bed linens. Off-season clothes. More bed linens… how fun. Then again, what was she really expecting; old treasure maps and S&M gear?
Videl sighed, deciding that maybe going through the cupboards and closets of the tiny house was not the most brilliant idea she'd ever had to pass the time. Goddammit, how boring could a person be?
She was actually starting to wish for the old man's harassment or the midget's nervous attempts to strike up a conversation. They'd all left, apparently, right after Gohan, abandoning her to fend for herself around here. She assumed, at least; not that she'd actually gone looking for them.
Forcefully, she produced the umpteenth deep breath of the morning—simply because it was something to do—and strolled lazily around the completely vacant upstairs, the warm breeze of yet another summery morning bringing in that distinctive ocean aroma that made her smile affectionately. It was the smell of their first real date—just the other day—and it was working on reminding her of every lingering minute she had to wait until their next one. And the next one, and the next...
Her wandering brought her down the stairs, slowly, as she took the time to inspect every single picture on the walls—mostly the little girl's but also some very old ones. She recognized both the small man and the old master, but also the blue-haired young woman, who had to be Bulma Briefs. No one else sparked a memory, but that other man was so very familiar: the spiky dark hair, his eyes... Gohan's father, she was mostly certain, and the overall age differences seemed to fit the bill.
Now she was curious and bored, worsening the damn itch that was prickling at her skin. Her legs walked for her and directed her path through the living room and into the kitchen. Maybe they'd have some booze around here. Beer at least, the blonde woman had offered her one the other day.
'Please have beer...'
The fridge's door was thrown open, and she crouched to thoroughly canvass its interior for the precious liquid. Vegetables, some fruit, orange juice—no sugar added... She snorted, damn health freaks, bah!
"Can I help you?"
'Shit!'Videl's head shot back over her shoulder. "Could you please not sneak up on me like that?" she growled at the blonde.
"I thought you were supposed to be some kind of assassin."
The words she didn't say were the ones that stung her ego the most, because in the back of her mind, Videl knew that the woman was absolutely right. What kind of trained hit-woman was she if Mrs. Blondie Housewife here could just catch her off-guard like this? This would never have happened before - ever! She'd be aware of her surroundings down to the damn fly on the wall, or the gravity shift in the room. It was the woman's fault! Did she glide instead of walk around?
Strangely, after that insultuous jab at her pride, she found all of it to be extremely... irrelevant. Killing had never been something she loved—more what she was programed to execute—so the fact that she was losing "the touch" was a good thing in the overall view of this new life that was happening for her. If no other soul would perish at her murderous grip, no more notches on her belt for as long as she should live—apart from Pho; she'd make an exception for him—she'd be okay with it, and peace would come eventually.
She was starting to change. How lucky was she? Not everybody got a third chance at life.
That wishful smile crept at her lips, the one that came with the warm feeling she was starting to feel more often than not. Gohan came to mind again... How lucky indeed. "I thought nobody was home," Videl stated, much calmer, standing up and slowly closing the appliance's door.
"I was on the roof," Eighteen offered as she walked closer and reopened the fridge. Videl stepped aside.
"On the roof?"
"Yes."
Videl repeated the question silently via confused frown while the other stepped away to lean against the marbled counter, water bottle in hand. She noticed how the blonde's skin was lightly reddened so she was probably sunbathing up there, but why the roof?
"The old man stares."
'Of course he does...'
"We're out of beer," Eighteen continued, unfazed, correctly answering Videl's other unasked question.
Videl didn't even try to suppress the disgust on her offended lips, looking around aimlessly for something else that could make her forget how miserably bored she was. If only she was a gorgeous blonde too, just another specimen of those obnoxious bimbos that religiously kept their tans as the most interesting thing about them—which it probably was—then maybe she could just follow the woman's example and climb onto the roof to roast all day under the Sun. Videl shook her head slightly as she realised that wasn't fair. This particular blonde didn't seem like a bimbo. And neither was Erasa...
"How can you live in the middle of nowhere, like this?" Videl quietly asked with just a pinch of exasperation showing through. "Don't you miss your friends?"
"Why would I miss them?"
"Gee, I don't know, because you live miles away from any civilization!" she retorted in a flash. "What if they want to come visit you or something?"
"They can fly here," Eighteen deadpanned with that annoying tone of hers—the only one she ever used. Ever.
"Can all of your friends fly?"
"Yes."
"Why? Don't you have normal friends, too?" If regret could kill you, this time it just stung all over. Was she ever this rude? And a hypocrite! How many friends did she have, let alone "normal" ones. The blonde didn't seem to be affected, though.
"I'm not normal, why should I have normal friends?"
Videl just stared back at her, mostly in awe at the oblivious wisdom that she'd just produced. She didn't know this woman—her background, her story—but that laconic view of the world was impressive to say the least. Simple logic, untarnished by the arrogance or overly-sensitive wishfulness that normally came with "being human". After a while, she just smiled.
"I assume you miss your friends," Eighteen stated in the form of a question that caught the younger woman by surprise, instinctively—as per training—making her retrace all of her previous words for the slip of tongue that'd given it away.
"H-How did you…?"
"You brought it up," the blonde responded, clarifying when Videl didn't wipe the confusion off her face, "friends."
True, but how damn perceptive could a person be? Her expression couldn't show how much she missed Erasa's gossiping and never-ending energy, her body language wouldn't be able to tell how she longed for Sharpner's harmless teasing and boyish remarks. The pang in her heart couldn't be that evident. "I don't have friends anymore," she whispered.
"What do you mean?" the blonde inquired, sipping at her bottle.
"I... threw them away." Like garbage.
"You've discarded all of them?"
"I didn't kill them, if that's what you're implying!" She'd never do that! Even if Pho had assigned it as a mission... right?
"Then they're still your friends."
Videl crossed her arms under her chest and looked away. "Their friends with Videl Satan."
"That's you."
A pause. "It's not that simple."
"They're friends with Videl Satan. You're Videl Satan. It seems pretty simple to me," Eighteen insisted, the same attribute of her impassive personality losing all its earlier appeal. It was rubbing on frustrating, now. They loved Videl Satan, the Saviour's daughter, the crime fighting heroine. They loved the girl she was, not the woman she became. After all she'd done though, who could blame them?
"I don't deserve them."
Silence again, the soft rumble of the ocean returning to fill in the void that took the room. There was nothing the woman could say to make her believe otherwise, but at the same time, Videl kind of wished she'd try. Words of comfort were estranged companions, long lost in time like her other life, but maybe they could help to ease the doubt—and God knew how she was doubting herself. Eighteen threw the empty plastic bottle away and walked over to the door.
"Where are you going?" Videl asked, confused. They were having a damn conversation!
"Anywhere. I don't like self-pity and despondence."
"I don't pity myself!" her ego shouted for her in defense of its honor.
"You do. It's a shame, I thought you were one of us."
"What do you mean 'one of us'?"
The other woman stared back again, cold blue and self-righteous eyes rendering her tiny. "Strong, knowledgeable of life. You look like a scared little girl."
"I am scared," she admitted without thinking it through. "Of the past and of the future." It was the absolute truth, one that her mouth was refusing to keep hidden anymore. "What if he's just toying with me?"
"Who, Gohan?"
"Yes! And what if they hate me for letting them think I was dead?"
"Will your life end?"
Simple words again; the answer was simple too, if one kept it literal. "Well... no, but..."
"Then you move on," the blonde interrupted. "Strong people don't postpone the inevitable. If you choose to avoid your life you might as well be dead."
Another pause. "Maybe I'm just not a strong person."
"Maybe not."
Maybe not... It cut like a knife through her buttery gut, and Videl was quick to look away to anywhere but that judgemental line of sight. A stone heart didn't make it a sturdy one apparently, and courage no longer defined her. After a while, she saw the blonde from the corner of her eye, shaking her head from side to side and turning around to resume her way.
"Take me there," Videl said just as the other left the room.
The older woman turned back. "Where?"
She wasn't entirely sure... Her life was changing once more; she could do anything with it, become anything. Was this who she wanted to be? An amorphous mass of a person, spineless and gutless. Evidently, life had become much more terrifying than death. "I have to see them."
Eighteen smirked.
She felt like a tourist. Not because of the inherent relaxation or amazement from the new sights around her, but because of the feeling of displacement, like it'd be obvious to everyone that would spot her that she didn't belong in this place, in this city that was once her home.
Videl walked around the downtown area more or less aimlessly, Eighteen following her moves close by. If she really wanted to go see Sharpner and Erasa, she'd most likely had to go over to their homes, or track them down in whichever jobs they had right now, but every time her feet brought her close to familiar surroundings, her brain shouted for retreat with overwhelming panic and urgency.
Basically, they were going nowhere fast.
But then, suddenly, something caught her eye, brought along to her awareness by the small group of people that headed for the massive crowd gathering on a place she knew all too well, even if she'd only visited once before.
The "Daughter of the City" memorial.
"What's happening there?" Eighteen came over to ask. "A festival?"
"Not sure…" But what else could all those people be doing on a place assigned specifically to the memory of Videl Satan? There was a stage on the far end of the square, she made out, a small man talking behind a podium in some unintelligible mess that they were probably too far away to make out from the staticky speakers. It was a gathering for her, for the heroine Videl Satan.
Erasa and Sharpner just had to be there.
Her body hunched absentmindedly as she ventured into the crowd, every cell in her brain assuring her will that no one would lend a second look her way if she only managed to act normally—as tall an order as it might be. She was pretty sure it was common knowledge that dead girls didn't walk around town just like that, so nobody would be expecting to spot her face in their midst.
It didn't help to quench the fire though, the one that was sweating her palms.
The man behind the microphone was the current Mayor, she recognized as she came closer, but all else lost interest when she spotted her two blond friends just by the stairs to the stage. Her chest burst into flames, her stomach queasy and heavy as she tried to swallow her feelings deep down to where they had been pushed to all these years.
Erasa had always been an insufferable crier, but those tears right now were punishing her mercilessly by the obvious heart-wrenching sadness added to them, as was Sharpner's soft yet heavy frown. He stood behind her, enclosing her petite figure within his arms, her back to his chest, while eyeing the ground absently from over her blonde head. They looked just the same and yet so completely different. More refined, in a way, like a proper adult should look, but that contrast was probably coming from the fact that they were still teenagers, in her mind.
Her best friend's cleavage was much more modest and concealed than what was expected of her when they were younger, since Erasa had always been rather keen on employing her "charm"—meaning her breasts—to have her way with the opposite gender, classmates and teachers alike. She seemed to have grown out of it, however.
And then there was Sharpner, the guy who'd wear sleeveless tank-tops in the dead of Winter to show off his "guns"—his word, of course—was now wearing a crisp button-down shirt with rolled-up long sleeves. It did strike her as a work attire, but that didn't diminish the fact that the "guns" were holstered in any way; not to mention that "work attire" obviously meant an actual work. And not just any work, a job in which he'd have to wear such a slick getup would probably be an important one, a high-end one. She couldn't help but feel proud at his accomplishment, even though she knew nothing of what it actually entailed.
"Those blond ones?" she heard Eighteen ask from behind her shoulder, sharing in her line of sight.
"Yeah," she told her, softly like hanging on to the words. "Erasa and Sharpner."
"What do you want to do?"
What indeed…? Something in her heart was fast to shout hopelessly, pleading for her to go meet them, talk to them, rekindle whatever they had before that felt so wonderfully familiar and safe. But deep down she knew that it wasn't her real heart talking, making that wish. That other heart belonged to Videl Satan, the girl they knew, the girl she'd been but wasn't anymore.
That past was in the past. Those feelings were nothing but false hopes because she could never have them back, even if she were to reveal herself to her friends, even if they'd forgive her for lying to them and making them live through the loss of a loved one that wasn't actually lost. She'd never be the same girl anymore, so she'd never have those same relationships with those same people, hard as she wished for them.
She was different, but then again… so were they. Could old ties be melted down to be forged anew?
"... Videl Satan..." Her name erupted from the speakers, bringing her attention back to the Mayor and the speech he'd been professing out of her awareness. "... heroine and guardian of our great city, deserves our gratitude and our prayers, not gratuitous vandalism of the statue erected in her honor."
Vandalism? Videl looked over to the imposing figure, its hefty granite base and stairs surrounded on all sides by the same stupid amount of flowers and cards and handcrafted photo collages that had driven her off the edge the last and only time she'd stumbled upon this place. The mementos were all piled up atop each other in a bulging mess that came from the simple fact that they were just too many, too much love, devotion, misplaced adoration towards a person that hadn't just died but simply ceased to exist.
Transformed into a murderer. And a vandal apparently; even if the shrine to her memory had been quickly replenished after being trimmed of its offerings when she'd lost her wits and lashed out at the things, there was no mistaking who all these people were downright scolding with their presence here today.
Scolding Videl Satan for having defaced Videl Satan's memorial. She'd laugh if it wasn't so outrageously ridiculous.
"So, it is with great disappointment," the man continued, "that I say to those responsible, that SatanCity will not stand for…" He trailed off when someone came rushing to his side, interrupting his speech entirely while covering the mike with a hand. A curious buzz grew immediately within the crowd, refusing to let silence settle among them in favor of low, rumbling whispers.
But she wouldn't be drowned in the anticipation just like the rest, because those particular features that were now contorting the Mayor's face became just too explicit, rendering her unable to ignore what training and experience had taught her. That face was tortured. That face was in panic and fear. That face was trying to hide the fact that something bad had happened.
Something really bad.
"What do you think happened?" Eighteen asked.
She could only shake her head from side to side, but whatever it was, they would know about it soon enough. It still made her feel a foreign pressure in her chest.
"I'm sorry but we'll have to interrupt the proceedings," the man almost mumbled while trying to maintain his poise, turning around to walk away before someone yelled out to him. A news reporter standing right by the stage below his feet.
"What happened, Mayor West? We have the right to know!"
The guy stared at the journalist for a moment, before exchanging a few words with group that'd gathered behind him—his assistants, no doubt. Warily, he walked back to the microphone stand, clearing his throat anxiously. "We don't have all the intel on the matter, but… there was an explosion."
An… explosion?
The crowd erupted into a flurry of aghast chatter. "What happened? Was it a terrorist attack?" some guy bellowed over the commotion, somewhere from the side.
"As I said the information is scarce as of yet. All we've been told by the proper authorities is the location of the blast, but rest assured it's all being taken care of as we speak. My office will relay the information as soon as possible." The mayor tried to leave again beneath the turmoil that ensued but someone else's question managed to reach him, halting his retreat.
"Where was it?" she heard faintly. "Where was the explosion?"
"A nuclear reactor. Near ."
Her heart stopped. Her lungs turned to stone. That's… But that's…
Gohan…
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