Part 5: In Sickness and in HFIL
The small ornate table held an equally ornate phone. Or, more precisely, part of a phone. The other part was being held by a large man in a maroon robe. In his other hand he held a marble bust, which would have been a good likeness except the bust had less hair and held the champ as he appeared after one of his many victories. Nose to nose, it hid the frown as the flesh and bone version spoke. "Yeh, that's right, a statue and a painting, looks like some hooligan came in here with a blowtorch to vandalize . . . no, no alarms went off . . . what?, is the Champion of the World supposed to just, um wait there's another call, hello Hercule Satan savior of the Earth here . . . Videl at the hospital, she didn't get in trouble with some boy, did she . . . oh, just a virus without a cure, is that all, VIDEL HAS AN INCURABLE VIRUS?"
Dropping both bust and phone, one to plop onto the thick carpet and the other to swing freely, the man who defeated Cell, would he lie to his fans I think not, cried out "VIDEL BABY DON'T BE SCARED, DADDY'S COMING FOR YOU!" and dashed out the door.
Or he would have if the doorway had been three feet to the left. Hercule Satan always left a good impression on the fans; he was just broadening his horizon, really.
*********************************************************************
Videl glared. Each pair of eyes she met returned her gaze without flinching. She hardened her gaze, forcing her will upon them and still they would not budge. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable. The yellow curtains with the teddy bears were there to stay.
She reached behind her, grabbing the metal frame of the chair and spun it in front of her so its back was to the window. Straddling it, she plopped down on the thin padding and cushioned her head on arms supported by the chair back. Impatiently she looked over the room she occupied, this time in the dim reflection in front of her. A table with TV, VCR, and magazines. One bed with thin foam mattress. Three off white walls with a locked door. One large window with, ugh, curtains. Herself, with bandaged hand and an incurable virus. Neat and carefully contained. Not to mention the overly clean scent hiding the ghosts of who knows what. UGH! 'The least they could have done was let me keep my clothes, its not like I could get anymore infected from them' she thought while adjusting the hospital gown she now wore being careful in flexing her much abused right hand.
The other side of the window, however, was far more interesting. The walls were the same and there were three chairs instead of one but the interesting part was who occupied the wall and chairs. To her left Gohan sat, back in his orange gi, wringing his hands and glancing between herself and the woman seated to his left. Videl may never have met the woman but she could not mistake THE Bulma Briefs for anyone else. Currently the blue haired genius was face down in a manila folder, emitting small noises as she examined the contents. The other three were so alike in some ways it made the differences so much more amazing. Each had claimed the middle of a wall to lean against with their heads down and arms crossed almost identically. The short man with hair more spiky than either Gohan or Goten leaning behind Bulma was obviously a fighter. She had seen his movements as he entered with Bulma even without the muscles showing in his sweat stained blue bodysuit. Opposite him, the green man she had seen earlier, wearing the same clothes, cape and all. Opposite Videl herself, the blond was even less readable, her blue denim vest and jeans over a long sleeved shirt was no fighting outfit but not difficult to move in. Bulma Briefs, Vegeta, Eighteen, and Piccolo. Gohan's friends and she supposed now hers.
Vegeta stirred, growling "woman, are you done reading that stupid file yet?" 'Maybe not', Videl thought.
Moments later, Bulma closed the folder and stretched back, her spine popping audibly. Exchanging a brief upside down glare with her partner for verbal sparring and bedroom activities, she looked at Videl. Apologeticly she stated "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do." She sighed and opened the folder again before continuing "this virus has incredible affinity for the glucose receptors and cadherins in the blood vessels, so there is almost no trace of the virus an hour after infection until the infected cells burst and the next generation of viruses are released."
At Videl's confused stare she explained "it doesn't stay in the blood long enough to be affected by the few anti-viral drugs or most of the bodies own defenses and it will cause progressively worse damage to your blood vessels as it infects new cells."
With obviously forced cheerfulness she pointed out "it can only be spread by blood so the doctors should let you out soon."
Silence filled the room as some sought alternative to the grim news, some were silent out of respect, and one considered her own mortality.
Gohan's hands stilled as a faint flicker of hope appeared. As he opened his mouth Vegeta, Eighteen, and Piccolo jerked up, looking at he door.
"VIDEL!" Hercule's voice was loud enough to silence the slamming of the door and the crowd behind him. True silence followed as blue eyes met obsidian, this time between Hercule and Vegeta. Blue eyes told the brain to run away, but as usual the ego shouted louder. "I don't know how you got the doctors to let you in but I'm not signing autographs now." Oblivious to the silent groans from everyone in the room, he strode proudly into the room "Videl honey, just sit tight and daddy'll get the finest mind to find a cure for this little bug!" A slam behind him allowed him to see Eighteen now leaning against the door. Faint groans could be heard through the door. He looked back as his daughter spoke.
"Already done daddy" resignation filled Videl's voice, possibly from her condition or maybe just because of how her father acted "in case you didn't notice, Bulma Briefs is here and has already looked at all the information on the virus."
"Speaking of annoying relatives, where is Kakarrot's harpy mate, I would have expected her to be here, unlike me" the Saiyan prince questioned.
Blandly, as always, the cyborg stated "I sent Krillan to get Chichi." Her statement provoked a shudder in everyone at the sadism of Eighteen. Everyone, that is, except Hercule who stood confused at the conversation of these strange people.
Returning to the idea that had been interrupted by Hercule's arrival, Gohan asked hopefully "if we know what the virus binds to, couldn't we block it?"
"Anything that blocks glucose receptors is toxic" flatly stated eighteen.
"And blocking the cadherins could turn her body to mush faster than the virus" finished Bulma, ending that line of inquiry.
Silence.
More silence.
Being without training, food, or sex, Vegeta finally broke the silence. "Woman, unless you give me one good reason why I should stand here watching some weak human girl die of some weak human disease . . ."
"Human?" Surprise was written across Bulma's face, distracting the many glares at Vegeta and stopping Videl's "Weak!"
"Human, human, human." Smiling insanely, Bulma leapt up, grabbed the Saiyan behind her, and shoved him toward the door.
Eighteen stepped aside, allowing the Prince to open the door, muttering to himself "idiot woman finally snapped." Although those inside could only see the swept up points of black hair, the crowd outside obviously saw something different. Reacting to some ancient and fundamental instinct of self-preservation, the hall emptied in moments.
As Vegeta practiced his crowd control, um crowd panicking, Bulma grabbed Gohan, dragging him out the door. The utterly confused half-saiyan managed to exchange one look with Videl, whose confused expression mirrored his own, before vanishing through to doorway. His last confused question still was heard in the room. "Shouldn't we wait for my mom?"
Piccolo stood up from the wall, giving Videl a small smile. "Now that's a good sign." With this parting comment, the Namek departed.
Still leaning against the far wall, Eighteen's toneless voice "Might be good to have another gal around all these guys." She turned to the door, flipping back her hair. At the doorway, she paused, idly commenting over her shoulder "if you live."
Alone with her father, who still hadn't figured out what was going on or at least a convincing explanation for these strange people, Videl summed up her experiences 'weird.'
******************************************************************
Streetlights drew sharp divisions, dividing night into pools of darkness, lurking around the gray paths between the bright oasis. The insectine drone of the streetlights continued unabated through the rise and fall of distant engines. Far below the velvet blackness, one pool of shadows held a darkness more solid. It spoke, a whisper that was swallowed up by the empty streets. "Hurin, should we seek our master Murasaki?" Silence. "Hurin?"
A slight shift revealed the figure, black in black and one with the blackness. Above the figure, shadows burst like the surface of the ocean as a vast hand emerged to clamp down on the speaker's head. Darkness in darkness twisted like an unhealthy organ. One strangled cry, one flash of light in the eyes, and it fell, a piece of trash in the shadows of an alley. Where it stood, a white spike thrust into the light as a greater darkness stirred. The spike emerged further, revealing a bulbous white device clasped in an enormous hand.
"Pathetic, at this rate it will take years to gather the energy Master Babidi requires"
*********************************************************************
"And the winner is HERCULE, still undefeated champion!" At the announcer's statement, Hercule put one foot on his opponent's prone back, lifted his hands in victory, and roared at the crowd. And the crowd cheered.
Click. With a sigh, Videl swung her legs to the ground and lifted her body from the bed. She was glad her daddy had dropped off something more entertaining than dressmaking magazines, but trust Hercule to sent videos of his previous fights. She hit the eject button, set the tape on the stack with the other, and looked at the box. 'No more, what a relief, after the last few days Daddy's fights just don't seem that impressive anymore.' With a long yawn, she turned back to bed. There, in the corner of the box, a bundle of battered tapes. Reaching in, she brought them into the light, revealing the scratches and burns on one. Unlike the other tapes, which had neatly printed labels proclaiming that the match featured World Champion Hercule, these had faded pencil marking. Bringing the top one closer, she squinted. 'Twenty-first World Martial Arts Tournament, daddy didn't compete in that one, did he?' Slipping the tape into the VCR, she sat back down on the bed. In moments her eyes were locked onto the screen. She didn't notice the crimson bead swelling in her nostril. Nor did she notice the red spots now staining her lap.
The small ornate table held an equally ornate phone. Or, more precisely, part of a phone. The other part was being held by a large man in a maroon robe. In his other hand he held a marble bust, which would have been a good likeness except the bust had less hair and held the champ as he appeared after one of his many victories. Nose to nose, it hid the frown as the flesh and bone version spoke. "Yeh, that's right, a statue and a painting, looks like some hooligan came in here with a blowtorch to vandalize . . . no, no alarms went off . . . what?, is the Champion of the World supposed to just, um wait there's another call, hello Hercule Satan savior of the Earth here . . . Videl at the hospital, she didn't get in trouble with some boy, did she . . . oh, just a virus without a cure, is that all, VIDEL HAS AN INCURABLE VIRUS?"
Dropping both bust and phone, one to plop onto the thick carpet and the other to swing freely, the man who defeated Cell, would he lie to his fans I think not, cried out "VIDEL BABY DON'T BE SCARED, DADDY'S COMING FOR YOU!" and dashed out the door.
Or he would have if the doorway had been three feet to the left. Hercule Satan always left a good impression on the fans; he was just broadening his horizon, really.
*********************************************************************
Videl glared. Each pair of eyes she met returned her gaze without flinching. She hardened her gaze, forcing her will upon them and still they would not budge. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable. The yellow curtains with the teddy bears were there to stay.
She reached behind her, grabbing the metal frame of the chair and spun it in front of her so its back was to the window. Straddling it, she plopped down on the thin padding and cushioned her head on arms supported by the chair back. Impatiently she looked over the room she occupied, this time in the dim reflection in front of her. A table with TV, VCR, and magazines. One bed with thin foam mattress. Three off white walls with a locked door. One large window with, ugh, curtains. Herself, with bandaged hand and an incurable virus. Neat and carefully contained. Not to mention the overly clean scent hiding the ghosts of who knows what. UGH! 'The least they could have done was let me keep my clothes, its not like I could get anymore infected from them' she thought while adjusting the hospital gown she now wore being careful in flexing her much abused right hand.
The other side of the window, however, was far more interesting. The walls were the same and there were three chairs instead of one but the interesting part was who occupied the wall and chairs. To her left Gohan sat, back in his orange gi, wringing his hands and glancing between herself and the woman seated to his left. Videl may never have met the woman but she could not mistake THE Bulma Briefs for anyone else. Currently the blue haired genius was face down in a manila folder, emitting small noises as she examined the contents. The other three were so alike in some ways it made the differences so much more amazing. Each had claimed the middle of a wall to lean against with their heads down and arms crossed almost identically. The short man with hair more spiky than either Gohan or Goten leaning behind Bulma was obviously a fighter. She had seen his movements as he entered with Bulma even without the muscles showing in his sweat stained blue bodysuit. Opposite him, the green man she had seen earlier, wearing the same clothes, cape and all. Opposite Videl herself, the blond was even less readable, her blue denim vest and jeans over a long sleeved shirt was no fighting outfit but not difficult to move in. Bulma Briefs, Vegeta, Eighteen, and Piccolo. Gohan's friends and she supposed now hers.
Vegeta stirred, growling "woman, are you done reading that stupid file yet?" 'Maybe not', Videl thought.
Moments later, Bulma closed the folder and stretched back, her spine popping audibly. Exchanging a brief upside down glare with her partner for verbal sparring and bedroom activities, she looked at Videl. Apologeticly she stated "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do." She sighed and opened the folder again before continuing "this virus has incredible affinity for the glucose receptors and cadherins in the blood vessels, so there is almost no trace of the virus an hour after infection until the infected cells burst and the next generation of viruses are released."
At Videl's confused stare she explained "it doesn't stay in the blood long enough to be affected by the few anti-viral drugs or most of the bodies own defenses and it will cause progressively worse damage to your blood vessels as it infects new cells."
With obviously forced cheerfulness she pointed out "it can only be spread by blood so the doctors should let you out soon."
Silence filled the room as some sought alternative to the grim news, some were silent out of respect, and one considered her own mortality.
Gohan's hands stilled as a faint flicker of hope appeared. As he opened his mouth Vegeta, Eighteen, and Piccolo jerked up, looking at he door.
"VIDEL!" Hercule's voice was loud enough to silence the slamming of the door and the crowd behind him. True silence followed as blue eyes met obsidian, this time between Hercule and Vegeta. Blue eyes told the brain to run away, but as usual the ego shouted louder. "I don't know how you got the doctors to let you in but I'm not signing autographs now." Oblivious to the silent groans from everyone in the room, he strode proudly into the room "Videl honey, just sit tight and daddy'll get the finest mind to find a cure for this little bug!" A slam behind him allowed him to see Eighteen now leaning against the door. Faint groans could be heard through the door. He looked back as his daughter spoke.
"Already done daddy" resignation filled Videl's voice, possibly from her condition or maybe just because of how her father acted "in case you didn't notice, Bulma Briefs is here and has already looked at all the information on the virus."
"Speaking of annoying relatives, where is Kakarrot's harpy mate, I would have expected her to be here, unlike me" the Saiyan prince questioned.
Blandly, as always, the cyborg stated "I sent Krillan to get Chichi." Her statement provoked a shudder in everyone at the sadism of Eighteen. Everyone, that is, except Hercule who stood confused at the conversation of these strange people.
Returning to the idea that had been interrupted by Hercule's arrival, Gohan asked hopefully "if we know what the virus binds to, couldn't we block it?"
"Anything that blocks glucose receptors is toxic" flatly stated eighteen.
"And blocking the cadherins could turn her body to mush faster than the virus" finished Bulma, ending that line of inquiry.
Silence.
More silence.
Being without training, food, or sex, Vegeta finally broke the silence. "Woman, unless you give me one good reason why I should stand here watching some weak human girl die of some weak human disease . . ."
"Human?" Surprise was written across Bulma's face, distracting the many glares at Vegeta and stopping Videl's "Weak!"
"Human, human, human." Smiling insanely, Bulma leapt up, grabbed the Saiyan behind her, and shoved him toward the door.
Eighteen stepped aside, allowing the Prince to open the door, muttering to himself "idiot woman finally snapped." Although those inside could only see the swept up points of black hair, the crowd outside obviously saw something different. Reacting to some ancient and fundamental instinct of self-preservation, the hall emptied in moments.
As Vegeta practiced his crowd control, um crowd panicking, Bulma grabbed Gohan, dragging him out the door. The utterly confused half-saiyan managed to exchange one look with Videl, whose confused expression mirrored his own, before vanishing through to doorway. His last confused question still was heard in the room. "Shouldn't we wait for my mom?"
Piccolo stood up from the wall, giving Videl a small smile. "Now that's a good sign." With this parting comment, the Namek departed.
Still leaning against the far wall, Eighteen's toneless voice "Might be good to have another gal around all these guys." She turned to the door, flipping back her hair. At the doorway, she paused, idly commenting over her shoulder "if you live."
Alone with her father, who still hadn't figured out what was going on or at least a convincing explanation for these strange people, Videl summed up her experiences 'weird.'
******************************************************************
Streetlights drew sharp divisions, dividing night into pools of darkness, lurking around the gray paths between the bright oasis. The insectine drone of the streetlights continued unabated through the rise and fall of distant engines. Far below the velvet blackness, one pool of shadows held a darkness more solid. It spoke, a whisper that was swallowed up by the empty streets. "Hurin, should we seek our master Murasaki?" Silence. "Hurin?"
A slight shift revealed the figure, black in black and one with the blackness. Above the figure, shadows burst like the surface of the ocean as a vast hand emerged to clamp down on the speaker's head. Darkness in darkness twisted like an unhealthy organ. One strangled cry, one flash of light in the eyes, and it fell, a piece of trash in the shadows of an alley. Where it stood, a white spike thrust into the light as a greater darkness stirred. The spike emerged further, revealing a bulbous white device clasped in an enormous hand.
"Pathetic, at this rate it will take years to gather the energy Master Babidi requires"
*********************************************************************
"And the winner is HERCULE, still undefeated champion!" At the announcer's statement, Hercule put one foot on his opponent's prone back, lifted his hands in victory, and roared at the crowd. And the crowd cheered.
Click. With a sigh, Videl swung her legs to the ground and lifted her body from the bed. She was glad her daddy had dropped off something more entertaining than dressmaking magazines, but trust Hercule to sent videos of his previous fights. She hit the eject button, set the tape on the stack with the other, and looked at the box. 'No more, what a relief, after the last few days Daddy's fights just don't seem that impressive anymore.' With a long yawn, she turned back to bed. There, in the corner of the box, a bundle of battered tapes. Reaching in, she brought them into the light, revealing the scratches and burns on one. Unlike the other tapes, which had neatly printed labels proclaiming that the match featured World Champion Hercule, these had faded pencil marking. Bringing the top one closer, she squinted. 'Twenty-first World Martial Arts Tournament, daddy didn't compete in that one, did he?' Slipping the tape into the VCR, she sat back down on the bed. In moments her eyes were locked onto the screen. She didn't notice the crimson bead swelling in her nostril. Nor did she notice the red spots now staining her lap.