Majin Saga: Earthlings and Androids

Disclaimer: Still got zip. Dbz ain't mine... yet :P

Note 1: Short-ish chapter, just setting up for some epic stuff later on, but hope you enjoy it anyways :D

Note 2: Majin Saga, like the Rebirth saga (and all saga's to come) is 9 chapters, so it'll conclude at chapter 18.

Note 3: Unedited... what else is new?

Happy Reading :)

"Let me fight you." Fasha growled from floating above at the blonde machine everyone addressed as Eighteen. She couldn't fathom where this women, or more appropriately android, had learnt such a sense on entitlement. How dare she deny her a fight. Both Yamcha and that short, bald one, Krillin she recalled his name was had mentioned that Eighteen was strong. She had been training with Krillin and Yamcha all day, and they all seemed quite even in power. Fasha wanted nothing more than a challenge, and Eighteen would be the one to provide it for her.

"I said no. Marron and I are just here to see Krillin for a moment." The android hissed back cooly, while giving the young girl who clung to her a loving squeeze. Her icy blue eyes flickered with frustration at the saiyan.

Fasha floated down to the ground and positioned herself between the washer and the baldy. To emphasize her point she dug her feet into the dirt below. Fasha narrowed her dark eyes and stared threateningly at the android, "You will fight me."

"Oh yeah? Make me." The comment was full of sass, but Eighteen said it so calm and cooly, Fasha couldn't help but shudder. The android simply shoved by her, knocking her slightly with her cold mechanical shoulder, as she continued her stalk towards the bald one. Once Fasha realized what had just happened, she wheeled around and crouched in a battle ready stance.

"Why you..." Fasha began, but she stopped mid-sentence when she felt a warm hand gently tug on her wrist. She flipped her head around to see Yamcha, standing handsomely and calm, smiling down at her. She withdrew from her crouched stance.

"Don't, she'll fight you eventually." He said with a brilliant smile that distorted the beautiful, rugged scars on his cheek in ways that made her stomach do backflips. "Eighteen just hates fighting in front of her daughter."

"That robot has a daughter?" Fasha said twisting her face in disgust.

"I told you Krillin was her husband." She watched the saiyan-looking human say as he smiled gently at her. "Morron is their daughter."

"Machines cannot reproduce. Besides it is revolting they would interbreed like that." Fasha crossed her arms, releasing herself from Yamcha's grip. She almost pouted at the thought of such a disgraceful act.

"They were in love..." Yamcha's voice weakly rung in her ears.

She continued to pout, looking in the opposite direction of the scarred warrior. "Love is not excuse for such a disgusting act."

Fasha was shocked when the warrior didn't immediately saw something in rebuttal. She turned to look at him and noticed an unfamiliar look that lay across his rough face. He seemed to be consumed in sadness, his longer black hair even seemed to droop in dismay. Seeing him like that made her feel uncomfortable, and dare she say it guilty. Fasha knew it were her words that insulted him so, but was it because she insulted his friends. No, she didn't think so. He looked to upset for it to be something like that.

Fasha stared into his gorgeous dark eyes. She analyzed his powerful face. And then she knew. She knew why she had insulted him so deeply, because she had been beginning to feel the same way. The thought of it still revolted her, but there was something about him she couldn't resist. Maybe it was his power, someone who could finally match her in a brawl, or his willingness to help her. She couldn't pin-point it, but Fasha knew she was falling for him. She had always been a little softer than the rest of her team, even encouraging Bardock to have so sentiments towards Kakarot. But this was bad, and would never be allowed by her crew or the King. It had to be stopped.

"Hey Bud." The bald man's voice snapped her back to reality. "I'm headed back with Marron. Eighteen wants to train for a bit."

"Right." Yamcha said dully, but not breaking eye contact with Fasha. The intensity of his gaze even slightly intimidated her.

Fasha caught the cue-ball head scoping them out from the corner of his eye. "Everything alright between you two?"

"Fine." Came Yamcha's curt reply, still holding her gaze.

"Well, alright then. Let's go grab some lunch Marron." He tugged at his daughter as he turned to go. "I'll be back this afternoon. It's a little nostalgic training for Vegeta's attack again, don't you think Yamcha?"

A smile tugged at the corner of the tall human's mouth at the mention of what he had told her were 'the good old days', before super saiyans dominated the fighting world. "Yeah man, see you later."

"Alright saiyan, are we doing this?" Fasha wheeled her head around to see the blonde robot mockingly cracking her neck. Fasha growled at the icy machine.

"Never been more ready." Fasha crouched and was about to pounce on the skirt-wearing dryer when she felt a gentle hand yet again grab her wrist.

"You sure you want to do this?" Yamcha looked at her with concern, his orange training gear making him look all the more appealing to her. "She's really strong."

"And so am I. Now back off human." Fasha hated acknowledging that he wasn't a saiyan, that they could never... be. But what choice did she have? She had to make it clear that it was impossible, and if it took hurting them both then so be it. She would much rather them both live in pain then die for love.

He released his arm with a pained look on his face. It hurt her to know she did that to him. She was about to withdraw from her stance to say something to him, but her keen ears picked up the sound of an approaching robot just on time.

The washer threw her right fist out in an attempt to smash it into her jaw. Fasha, having been taken off guard, had to raise bother her forearms in a cross formation to black the blow. The blonde's fist came down with a crash onto her two exposed arms. The searing pain of the impact blasted up her entire upper body. Her arms felt like shattering under the force of the machine's mighty fist.

Fasha quickly used all the energy she could muster to push her arms out, forcing the machine backwards and breaking the contact between them. As soon as her arms we free, she unconsciously let them drop to her side. The were heavy, and she could feel bruises already pooling beneath her skin on the point of impact. Fasha tried to move her fingers in a desperate attempt to keep her circulation regular. Her fingers barely shook.

Yamcha was right; Eighteen was strong.

"You still sure you want to do this saiyan?" She said while teasingly inspecting her manicure. Fasha tried to manage a response, but a;; her focus was latched onto regaining control of her fists. She watched at the machine flipped her hair. "You know I defeated you precious prince once upon a time... and he was a super saiyan."

Fasha blinked blankly at the android. Could she really be that powerful? Strong enough to have defeated Vegeta. No it was impossible. But even if it was, it would be an honour to fight against someone who had traded blows with the prince, and she would not turn down that honour.

"Bring it on droid." Fasha said, attempting to sound intimidating.

"Fine." Fasha separated her feet in a staggered formation to prepare for the on coming attack. She watched Eighteen intently, but was surprised at what the android did next.

The dishwasher simply flicked her hair one last time and placed her dainty hands in the jean pockets of her skirt. She then began to casually stroll over towards Fasha, closing the gap between them. Fasha held back a wince as the android came to a halt at arms length in front of her. Her cold, clue eyes held something extremely intimidating in them, but Fasha dare not show her worry. She held her staggered stance, waiting for the android to make a move.

"I'll give you three free shots." She said icily. "After that it's fair game."

"I will not take your freebies, I am a warrior -"

"Take them or we don't fight." Eighteen said glancing off into the distance.

Fasha let out a low growl. This android was the bane of her existence at the moment. Not only was she frustrating her beyond belief, Fasha really needed to hit something right now, to get her mind off of Yamcha. Putting her pride aside, she launched a quick punch from her left, less sore hand, straight at the pile-of-scrap-metal's head.

She was confident her fist would be fast enough to make an impact with the machine's pretty face, especially since the robot wasn't even remotely paying attention. When Fasha's fist just missed the left ear of the android's instantly tilted head, she was stunned as she hadn't even see the android budge. The power of the force she put into the punch made her stumble foreward, but she used that to her advantage and tried an upwards hook into the android's stomach.

Again Eighteen seemed to have completely disappeared. This time though, the machine wasn't even in front of her anymore. Fasha looked from side to side in a panic, but the only person she saw was a concerned looking Yamcha.

"Up here." Eighteen said as she floated back down to the ground. Fasha's body shook with rage as the android landed right in front of her. Her hands were still lazily hanging in her pockets. "You've got one more. Make it count."

Fasha's eyes vibrated with anger, blurring her vision. This stupid, rusty old machine was making her look like a fool. And in front of Yamcha no-less. How dare she?

Fasha didn't even think of her next move as she charged the android full-on, hoping to nail her in the ribs with her hard shoulder armour. The female saiyan was running full speed at the confident android, who did nothing more than a simple side step to dodge the rage-fuelled attack. Fasha knew instantly she was at a loss. When her body was parallel to that of the machine, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of her opponent.

"That was three." The dryer muttered in her raspy voice as Fasha stumbled to an ungraceful halt directly beside her. Fasha observed in horror as the android lifted her slender leg, still looking off into the distance with her hand in her pocket. It was as if it were in slow motion, Fasha looked from the android to Yamcha. She gave him a weak smile as she watched him rushing over from the sidelines of the battle. She had wished she won, if for nothing else but to impress him.

Fasha turned her head back to look at Eighteen, but instead of seeing her figure, she just saw the black underside to her boot.

And then everything went black.

"Sweety, is everything okay?" Dr. Briefs asked his daughter as he watched her pour a third mug of coffee from behind his news paper at the kitchen table.

"Dad I'm fine." His daughter said bluntly back to him, slamming the pot down on the marble counter. He wrinkled his moustache at the noise of the glass clinking on the marble, what a horrid noise.

"Alright, what ever you say." He retreated back to his news paper. He knew something was wrong, well obviously. His family had turned upside down over the course of the past week. Starting with his innocent grandson ignorantly wishing back Vegeta-sei, although Dr. Brief could not blame the child. The boy had never been privy to knowing anything about his father's past, and although he knew very little, their had been a few times where Bulma and even Vegeta himself occasionally, had come to him in confidence seeking someone to just listen. And he had been there for them, but he knew they were waiting to divulge this information to their son. Bulma had told him she and Vegeta would tell Trunks at ten, at least the necessary information. Trunks' tenth birthday came and went and neither of them took the initiative. Then they changed it to thirteen, arguing Trunks was still to young. But the same thing happened on Trunks' thirteenth to his great dismay. Dr. Briefs sighed, the poor boy would not come out of this without hearing something, and the fact it wasn't from his parents would most likely be detrimental.

He looked up again from the paper he was simply using as a prop to disguise the fact her was closely watching over his daughter. He watched as she grabbed a fourth mug from the cabinet, lined it up with the other three full mugs of coffee, and waited for the machine to brew more. He looked back down at his paper. Something was wrong with her and he knew it. She had been so confident that everything was going to turn out all right, so strong in all her decisions. Until yesterday, the day she came back from Namek.

Dr. Briefs' daughter came back a machine. She was void of all emotions, and over the past day simply operated on routine. She had not made Goku taken her to see Trunks on Vegeta-sei, as she had done everyday before. She hadn't gone and annoyed the rest of her friends about training hard, nor had she invented anything new and useful for them to use. And for goodness sakes, his daughter hadn't even put make-up on this morning. Something clearly happened on Namek, and it wasn't good.

The elder genius scientist folded his paper in four and placed it down in front of him on the beautiful kitchen table his wife had purchased. Finally he looked at the headline on the front page. He placed his hands in his lab coat pockets as he read to himself, 'King Furry Transports Goods to New Planet as Peace Offering.' He smirked at the story his daughter had told him about Trunks and Goten threatening the King. At least that worked out in their favour.

Dr. Briefs looked back up as he heard his daughter remove the pot from the coffee machine and pour yet another mug full of her caffeinated crack. She then began her routine again and re-set the coffee machine, replaced the pot, and got a fifth mug.

"You know," He said thoughtfully scratching his lavender hair. "You could just make a bigger pot."

"I said I'm fine dad!" His daughter basically yelled back at him, but did not turn his way.

"That's not what I asked sweety."

"Oh," She said softly, still not turning. But through his giant spectacles he could have sworn he saw his daughter's hair quiver. "What were you saying."

"You could just make a bigger pot darling." He pointed at the machine, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"Right." He watched as she silently added more water and coffee to the machine.

"Dad?" Came Bulma's unusually soft voice.

"Yes dear." He said, still intent on watching her every move.

"Why did I make so much coffee?" He shoulders seemed to shake as she gripped the counter. Dr. Briefs wanted nothing more than to run to her and get her to confess to him what had happened. He wanted to comfort his darling daughter, because he was confident she would find a way to make things right. But he knew he couldn't force her to divulge anything she didn't want to. The best way was to let her come to him.

"I don't know dear, are you expecting anyone?" He asked knowing there was no chance she was. She would never see anyone without being made-up.

"No... no." She said confusedly. "I must've just lost track."

"Happens to the best of us ma' dear." He said trying to lighten her saddened mood. "Why don't you come sit down and enjoy a cup."

"Alright." He watched as she grabbed a mug of the dark substance, and finally turned towards him. The woman in front of him was not his daughter. His daughter was lively and vivacious. This Bulma was worn and degraded. He frumpy pyjamas and discouraged demeanour made her eyes seem to sparkle less and he face seem to hallow. Her eyes were red, probably from not sleeping the night before, and he hair was astray. "You want one."

Dr. Briefs' could only nod at her request, the ghost of his brilliant daughter shocked him too much to form words. He had known she was bad yesterday, but the lack of sleep and most likely a full night of worrying about whatever happened on Namek was clearly taking it's toll.

He confident strut was reduced to nothing more than a hobble as she walked over to the table and sat across from him. She extended a hand out with his coffee, Dr. Briefs chocked out a thank you as casually as he could.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Dr. Briefs pretended to go back to his paper, while Bulma stared blankly at him. He sipped away at the poorly made cup of coffee and literally counted the seconds of the ticking clock, praying his daughter would open up. Just has he was about to say something, when a miracle occurred.

"How do I tell Trunks?" She whispered, not looking up from her cup of coffee.

"Tell Trunks what dear?" He asked calmly, not trying to pressure her.

"That I told Goku to kill Vegeta." She said mechanically.

Dr Briefs' mind raced. Maybe his daughter was being nonsensical. Clearly she couldn't mean what she was saying. She Vegeta turned Majin again, as she had explain, she had always been confident he would turn back, but now this? What could have driven her to such a conclusion, he needed to find out. The elder scientist tried not to betray his complete and utter shock on his face, even though she continued to stare at her coffee.

"And why did you ask Goku to do that?" He attempted to ask stoically, but knew his cracking voice betray his sadness. She took no notice though and remained hunched over her beverage.

"Babidi said it was the only way."

"Are you sure?" Dr. Briefs immediately recalled Babidi was the one to have entranced his son-in-law in the first place.

"Unless Vegeta can defeat Majin Vegeta himself," He watched as she raise her head to face him. She seemed surprisingly calm as she shrugged and continued. "But Babidi said my Vegeta's probably been already destroyed or too weak to do it."

That hit a heart string. Hearing his daughter say my Vegeta tore at his soul. He didn't know too much about the situation, but he could conclude several things. Majin Vegeta was back and somehow had taken control of her Vegeta, if not completely destroyed him and taken his body. And now Dr. Briefs knew why his daughter was so distraught, in order to do the right thing, to save the world and everyone in it, she had chosen to destroy Vegeta's captor. Even if Vegeta was still kicking in there somewhere.

"Dad?" He snapped out of it at the sound of her voice. "How do I tell Trunks?"

He stared blankly at his daughter, who for the first time in a day showed signs of determination in her eyes. Now he knew what she had been pinning over. It wasn't her decision, it wasn't even over potentially losing Vegeta, although he knew that was probably killing her. It was over how she would go about telling her son. And in all honesty he had no clue.

Dr. Brief reached across the table and held out his hands. He was happy when Bulma reciprocated and placed his small hands into his own. "Bulma, being a parent is rough, and your situation is probably the only one of it's kind... ever."

He held back a sigh as he saw his daughter's sudden confidence falter. She had been looking for an easy answer, a shortcut like in her equations, but there was none he could give. "But you are strong, and so is Trunks. You'll have to explain it too him, mind you definitely in more detail than you explained it to me. Tell him everything that happened on Namek, absolutely everything. Everything you thought, everything you felt, don't leave a single detail out or he may not understand. Tell it all. He's a smart boy, he'll hear you out...And don't you dare hold off one this one."

He emphasized the last point, no way was he going to let his daughter with withholding information from his grandson again. Their lack of communication had caused this whole kerfuffle, and he would not let lack of knowledge be the destroyer of his family.

"Thanks dad." She weakly smiled at him. It was faint, but he could see how it brought some life back to her face. Her eyes were burning with confidence as she continued to hold his eye contact. "I love you."

"I love you too dear." He smiled widely back at her. He knew this was going to be hard, mind you he felt downright distraught at the thought of losing his beloved son-in-law. But if it was necessary to save Trunks and Bulma, along with the rest of earth, it had to be done. And if there was any other possible way to save Vegeta, he was confident Bulma would find it. "Now call Goku and go see your son."

"I will dad," She said meekly. "But first can we go find mum?"

"Why of course dear, are you hungry?"

"No, no." She smiled widely at him, a sad smile but a bright smile none-the-less. "Can we all cuddle on the couch and just watch a quick show or something?"

"Dear I don't think this is at all the time -"

"I need my parents right now." A tear rolled down his grown daughter's cheek, and he squeezed her hands tightly in his own. Although it had been a request brought from her sadness, Dr Briefs couldn't help but notice how she completely interrupted him totally disregarding what he was going to say.

He smirked, that's was his Bulma.