I would like to interrupt you for just a moment.
First, thank you for giving my new yarn a look. If you are someone who can read anything and found yourself intrigued enough by the summary then go right ahead and skip this author's note. However, if you consider yourself sensitive in any way and are here to enjoy sweet stories with kind characters and happy endings, I suggest you close the tab. I'm not going to spoil it for those who prefer not to know what they're in for but please take heed that this is not a story for the faint of heart.
I figure there must be others out there like me who find themselves curious about what unsettling places the Dragon Ball universe can go. If I'm wrong, and the only one who really asked for this story is me, I can accept that and return this short piece to the dusty archives.
TL;DR: this fic leans dark. If that's not your cup of tea, hit the X. No hard feelings - I'll see you on the next one.
Also: title inspired by the Telltale video game of the same name. Was a great game, too bad the company went belly up :(
"Just a minute," Goten called after the second series of knocks, chin pressed to his chest as he fumbled with his button down and hurriedly stuffed tired cotton into the feathered waist of his dark slacks.
The knock came again, this time harder and more pressing.
With an exhale, Goten conceded, hands and belt buckle dropping simultaneously so all three slumped towards the passage floor. Heading for the door, his eyes flicked to the clock face hanging near the apartment entrance. Quarter-to-eight, it said. He didn't have time for interruptions and he definitely didn't have time to deal with whatever new emergency arose at the neighbour's today.
As he opened the door, he reminded himself to be firm this time. He'd been far too accommodating in the past; they were beginning to resemble the stray animals that hovered around his childhood mountain home.
"I'm sorry but I don't-" Goten broke off as soon as he registered two men standing in the doorway, stern, sturdy and uniformed.
"Son Goten?" the first said. It was posed as a question, but each watched with a calmness that suggested there was no uncertainty behind the query.
After a few heartbeats, Goten's already open mouth began to stir back to life. "Good morning, officers," he greeted after clearing his throat. Stepping outside, he pulled the door with him, catching the wandering eye of the second policeman.
Goten glanced around the hallway, seeking signs of anything out of the ordinary. "Has something happened?"
He didn't remember hearing any disturbances during the night and he should have been relieved when he found nothing of note.
The officers exchanged a momentary look. "We have a few questions for you. Can we step inside?" One edged towards the door.
Goten grabbed the handle from behind his back, guarding the entrance. "Could we maybe do this later?" he said. "You've caught me just as I was about to head out."
"I'm afraid this can't wait, Mister Son." The policeman pulled a white A5 card out from his leather folio. "We're here on an urgent matter and I'm obligated to tell you that if you're not willing to cooperate, we'll be forced to continue this down at the station."
In his periphery, Goten registered the careful opening of his neighbour's door, a lone eye peeking through the narrow slit.
Goten lowered his voice. "What exactly are you saying?" He cast another glance towards the eavesdropping neighbour. "You're arresting me? On what grounds? You haven't even told me what you're here for."
"Do you recognise the person in this picture?"
What Goten initially thought to be a card was indeed a photograph, now held up to his line of sight and transfixing him instantly to the hallway carpet. The rising ire from their unexpected arrival ground to an abrupt halt as the hairs on his neck stood straight and his stomach sank towards the underground parking garage.
"I…" Goten attempted a swallow but his throat was suddenly dry. "... Yes." His eyes didn't move from the image in front of him, taking in the fine features that had become so familiar over the past few months without him even realising how much his subconscious had quietly been cataloging her face. "I do." He finally broke out of the hypnotic spell, looking from one policeman to the other. "Why?"
"Please, come with us," one replied.
The low, cyclic churning of industrial dryers pulsed in his ears as Goten closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head to the laundromat window. Outside, he could hear the steady song of a never-sleeping West City transmitting through the glass. Car wheels were turning over wet asphalt while raindrops bounced off sentinel streetlights.
He reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette, letting it dance between his fingers for a few idle minutes before heading for the door.
Ducking left, he slipped into the neighbouring alleyway, out of the pool of light made by the street lamp and sure to obscure the stick with his free hand while he lit the end without any aid from a lighter.
Goten let out a long breath, coiled muscles in his shoulders releasing while heavy eyelids drooped.
A set of heels clacked against damp concrete, approaching him from around the corner.
It's a bit late to be out alone, isn't it?
While she neared, Goten watched the space she'd soon cross, bored, and a little curious.
As soon as she came into view, a pair of black eyes were on her and the woman started, emitting a shriek.
Goten said nothing, offering no more than a faint smile. She didn't smile back, and he didn't miss the hurried pace with which she continued walking.
He pulled out his phone and checked the time - there was still fifteen more minutes to kill. With another puff of his cigarette, he flicked through his inbox.
During his scan, Goten registered another approaching group. There were four sets of voices, each with young owners, though he sensed only three individual energy signatures.
Strange.
Goten snuffed the last of his smoke under his shoe and slid his hands into his jacket pocket, ready to head back inside.
As he crossed the teenagers' path, he felt a strike, like a bolt of lighting, ricocheting from crown to sole. Instinctively, he turned back while all four continued forward.
Four?
His ears had not deceived him then, there were definitely four kids. The one at the back, however, was not emitting any ki.
Without thinking, he grabbed her by the arm, admittedly more forcefully than he would have liked. When she spun around with a "Hey!" and briefly panicked recoil, he immediately let go.
"Sorry!" Goten said, showing both hands.
"What's your problem, mister!" The young girl's scowl was fierce, and it was only after a few seconds of staring into electric blue eyes that he realised he'd seen her face before.
His brows drew together, converging in a disbelieving frown. "Bulla?"
Her expression twisted too, large eyes narrowing as she scrutinised the man before her.
"What do you want?" one of the others asked, stepping towards him.
"Bulla, you don't remember me?" Goten ignored the posturing teen, reserving his attention for the girl he hadn't seen a hair of for five years or more. "It's Goten." He pressed his fingers to his chest, causing the leather of his jacket to squeak. "Son Goten."
He saw a flash behind her eyes, and felt a rush of relief when her frosty demeanour thawed just a fraction. Instead of a tick at the end of her mouth, as he'd been expecting - so typical of her father and brother - her face softened, falling into something more obscure.
"Right." She spoke softly. "Goten. You're Pan's uncle."
He realised then why her expression was so clouded when he gave his full name. The tightening in his chest accompanied the matching fade in his own smile.
In an instant, the air went from crisp and fresh from evening rain to thick and restrictive. He tried to settle on what to say next, suddenly full of questions he hadn't even realised he'd been storing away. It seemed pointless bringing up her brother considering Goten saw him in the news every other week. His face filled the kiosk stands, with headlines more than telling enough to keep regular people like him in the loop.
Goten opened his mouth to begin speaking but she cut in at the same time, leaving a croak in his throat where the words would have been.
"We're actually on our way somewhere." She pointed behind her. "I'll have to catch up with you next time. Sorry."
Hands buried in his jeans pockets, Goten gave a nod.
He watched as the teenagers continued without a second thought, Bulla brushing off the unexpected encounter so easily, as though Goten were just another stranger.
It stung.
He cherished his memories of the days when the Sons and Briefs were close as family - laughing together, eating together, fighting together, saving the world together. Even the day of Bulla's birth he could recall so clearly. Pan's too for that matter.
He felt another pang and let out a defeated breath, running his fingers through his damp locks and spinning on his heel to attend to the freshly cleaned linen that was waiting for him inside.
Goten's cheeks puffed outward as he slowly exhaled, elbows leaning into the unforgiving surface of the frigid interrogation room table. They'd turned the thermostat down, and he was probably supposed to start feeling jittery and compliant by now.
The door opened and Detective Frye returned, a stack of papers in hand Goten vaguely suspected were blank and only present to make him anxious over what could potentially be held within.
"Son Goten," Frye began, deep-voiced, eyes cast towards his sheets. "Twenty-nine year old consultant from… Mount Pow-zu?"
"It's pronounced Paozu," Goten corrected.
"Where is that?" Frye sat down, the scrape of his chair echoing painfully off the walls of the little room when he pulled it out. "Never heard of it."
"Way out east." Goten tapped the table and glanced around the space, wondering how much longer they were planning on having him down here. He'd been waiting for over half-an-hour as it was.
"Small town boy in the big city." Frye stopped shuffling his papers and folded his arms. "What made you decide to move west? You're a long way from home, young man."
Goten nodded. He certainly didn't need the reminder.
"Wanted to get away from the parents?" Frye posed.
Goten shrugged, fiddling with a strip of scrap paper on the desk in front of him. "Not really."
"A job then?"
"Nope."
"Oh, I get it now." A smirk appeared on the detective's face, his mouth partially hidden by a bushy moustache that curled over his top lip. "You came here for a girl."
At this Goten snorted, not even masking the look that said, Really? "More like a boy," he offered.
"Oh." Frye straightened and cleared his throat, evidently sheepish.
"My best friend lived in West City," Goten clarified. "I used to come here all the time to visit him as a kid. I'd always planned on moving here."
Frye wrote that down. "Parents?"
"What about them?" Goten asked. "And what do they have to do with you guys pulling me in here first thing on a Wednesday morning?"
"Easy, pal." Frye displayed an open hand before patting his stack of papers. "I just want to get to know you a bit better. We're trying to gather as much information as possible about Miss Briefs and part of that is tracing her activity."
"Well, you're wasting your time talking to me," Goten said, quickly growing impatient with the impromptu station visit. He had clients to call and promised his boss he'd be back at the office in an hour at most. "We weren't friends."
At this Frye said nothing, watching him with a careful expression Goten suspected was by now a well-practised weapon.
"Weren't?"
"Aren't. Whatever."
"Mister Son." Frye placed both hands on the table, encompassing one within the other. "Numerous sources tell us Miss Briefs was spotted in your neighborhood more than once in the months leading up to her disappearance. Some even claim to have seen her enter your apartment building."
Goten's dark eyes flicked from the scrap between his fingers to the man in front of him. "Wait." The paper floated out of his hand. "She's missing?"
Frye's neutral face turned hard.
"Don't sit there and insult me by pretending you don't know what's going on," the detective said. "It's been all over the news for more than a week now. The Briefs have been appealing to the public to come forward with information every hour on the hour."
"I…" Goten was stuck again, unsure how to process this bit of info without giving the investigator some kind of fuel. He needed to be alone. Right now. "I've been busy."
"Do you have any comments about her activities near your place of residence?"
"No." Goten stood up from his seat, now officially done with the outing. "And the next time you have questions for me regarding the Briefs, you'll be directing them to my lawyer."
What are the chances?
Despite still living in the same city as his once-beloved second family, Goten hadn't crossed paths with a single one of them in more than half a decade. For one, the city was large enough that he rarely bumped into anyone who actually stayed in the same district as him, let alone those who owned real estate on the opposite side of town. More importantly, as out of practice as he was, Goten could still sense ki and didn't doubt that they could too. It was easy to avoid someone when you knew they were coming.
As he stared at his ceiling, taking in the dancing shadows of evening city lights and the steadily expanding patches of lurking moisture, he considered the starkly divergent paths the two families had taken in the preceding years, as well as the catalysts that drove them apart. Even now, years on, he preferred not to think about it.
She's grown up so much. He shook his head. I can't believe it.
How old had Bulla been the last time he'd seen her? Her family took such care to keep her sheltered from the limelight, he wouldn't be surprised if it had been the last time he'd been at the Briefs' mansion altogether. He had vague recollections of hanging around their oversized pool. Pan would have been thirteen back then, he realised, which placed Bulla around twelve.
Pan's uncle.
That's how Bulla had referred to him that evening. Apparently that's all she'd ever known him as. He supposed he shouldn't take it too personally. By then, he and Trunks were already pulling apart and he wasn't coming over all that often anymore.
As the young Son dozed, mental fetters loosening one-by-one and lowering him carefully into gentle slumber, something occurred to him: When he grabbed her earlier, in the alleyway outside the laundromat... she'd been scared. He saw it in her face for a split second, and he smelled it lingering in the air even minutes after.
Sure, he'd caught her by surprise but -
Bulla Briefs is a Super Saiyan, Goten thought, perplexed. He'd seen her transformation himself when he was a teen. What could she possibly be afraid of?
The days following the station visit were a blur. Goten attempted a resumption of his regular routine but he couldn't shake her name from his conscience, finding his thoughts drifting her direction any idle moment.
The police had mentioned they'd tried calling her mobile without any luck, but he got the impression they had no awareness of her second number.
As he'd done plenty of times in the last few days, Goten pulled out his phone and went through his call logs, seeing her name all over them. The same went for his text history. Their communication went back months.
This definitely complicated things, and he began to wonder if he should expect another visit. Did her friends know about him? He'd never even thought about it before, foolish as that was.
The knock came five nights later. He was still in his work clothes, sleeves rolled and shirt untucked, when he answered the door.
This time, there was an entire squad waiting outside and as they cuffed him, he saw his neighbour in the hallway, the same one from before, talking to a policewoman with a notepad and relaying some story in great, hushed detail. They paused as Goten walked by and stepped into the elevator, his head tilted downward and hands secured feebly behind his back.
Goten knew he was more than strong enough to break away and bolt, but what would that grant him? He'd only serve to make himself appear guiltier. He decided complicity was the best strategy for now. He'd have to hope they'd be forced to let him go after a day or so for insufficient evidence.
What he hadn't expected was to see a familiar face waiting for him once he arrived.
As Goten was lead through the back of the station, he caught a glimpse of slick lavender hair and a sharp, pressed suit through the window.
Trunks was in the foyer, presumably waiting to see the face of the man who'd been arrested in connection with the disappearance of his baby sister.
"Trunks," Goten said once they'd entered, earnestly as he could manage. "I promise you-"
"Shut up." The leading officer shoved the back of his head and continued driving him towards the holding cells. "You don't get to talk to him."
"Wait," Trunks called out, breaking his conversation and immediately heading towards the group. "Let me speak with him, please." The cops exchanged uncertain glances. "Alone. I'll be fine, I assure you."
After a few silent seconds, a call was made. "Fine, five minutes," the sergeant said. "Someone will be posted outside."
The two half-Saiyans were chauffeured into a nearby room, with Goten lead more forcefully than necessary into his seat. "Don't do anything stupid," the man added before shutting the door, Goten unsure which of the two of them the comment had really been directed at.
"Trunks." Goten tried again once they were alone, locked palms lifting from the table.
"Goten, don't worry," Trunks interrupted, slipping a sheet of paper into his inside jacket pocket. "They've got the wrong guy."
Goten let out a sigh so large, his entire body sank into his harsh, metal seat like one of his mother's failed home baked breads.
"I know we've had our differences in the past, but I also know you."
Goten stared into the older hybrid's eyes, his irises clear and piercing like shards of fractured glass.
"You wouldn't do this. It's not your nature."
Hearing his old friend speak so confidently left him ashamed. Trunks was right, they did have their differences and yet even with their sparse contact in recent years, his childhood conspirator was still willing to believe in him despite the compromising circumstances.
"I don't know how you've been caught up in all of this, but I'll make sure they don't stop looking for the real culprit until we find her."
Goten nodded as Trunks rose from his seat and knocked on the door to be let out. Once he exited, another stepped in to replace him, taking the seat Trunks had occupied just seconds before. It was Goten's lawyer, Quincy Mack.
"Goten. Good to see you." He popped his briefcase on the table, looking a little flustered as he pulled out his pen and legal pad. "I got here as quickly as I could. Was that the brother I just saw walking out? Jesus. What did you say to him? Nothing stupid I hope."
"I... didn't say anything," Goten replied, admittedly a little disoriented himself. "He said he believes I'm innocent-"
"Wait, he does?"
Goten gave him a look.
"I mean of course you are." The lawyer winked. "I'm going to be straight with you, Goten, we've got some work ahead of us. I've got a contact at the head office and word is there's a little video that's just surfaced."
Goten raised a sceptical eyebrow, wondering how things could possibly get worse for him this evening. "What's the video?"
"Footage from the security camera in the hallway outside your door," he said. "Picture this. Young Bulla exits your apartment. In tears. Her shirt's undone and she's holding it across her chest as if she's trying to keep herself from flashing the whole freakin' neighborhood."
Goten slumped into his chair, head thrown back as he let out a groan.
"Wanna know something else?" Mack said, dropping his voice. "As of right now, it's the last time the kid was ever seen."
Fuck. The half-Saiyan ran both hands up his face, burying his fingers in his hair before sinking into his elbows
"Forgive my frankness, but it's likely you're their prime suspect." Quincy interlocked his fingers on the table, looking Son Goten in the eye without an ounce of his usual jest. "So now you're going to tell me every goddamn thing that happened with this girl. Everything. And you're going to start at the fucking beginning."