FORE RUN
NIGH NIGH, SWEET BABY
Chilling winds whipped dark hair into his face, tearing at his unprotected body. The emerald shirt and black cargos hardly sheltered his lithe form, orange socks clashing horribly. A torn black jacket covered his back, its red insignia marking him as a soldier. One of the last of an army that had once proclaimed ownership of the world. Ice-blue eyes scanned the forests below, searching for a sign of his other half. Dying light caught his eye, and he leapt from the mountain ledge, flying into the night.
It had taken the entirety of five minutes before Vegeta's tent virtually exploded. Bulma's voice was drowned in a litany of blasts from her other half as she tried to explain the predicament to the enraged prince. Nothing seemed to be penetrating his brain. As per usual. 18 never really understood how Bulma could stand the vile monkey. After asking earlier, she was treated to a talk on all the great things that were Vegeta. "Not much on THAT list." She added to herself, smirking.
It wasn't that she didn't like Bulma and Chi chi; it just irked her that they were so under their men's thumbs. Sure, Chi chi ruled her home with an iron hand, but she still did all the housework, and Bulma had a son and husband to look after. Living with her brother for so long, she knew how slob-like men could be. Not a day went by without an argument over the state of the furniture, the messes on the floor and the trash bin. It was like Gero all over again. "18 do the washing." Or "18, hang out the clothes."
It was different with Krillin. He washed, dried, hung out clothes, sewed, even took out the trashcan. Living with him was a new experience. She just hoped that marrying him wouldn't change life too much.
Gohan stuck his head out of the tent, hoping to see Krillin or Tien. It was strange, the way that Vegeta was always yelling. He guessed that that was just the way that he was. Like Bulma. He liked Bulma; she was nice to him and let him play with Trunks whenever he wanted. And Piccolo. He really liked Piccolo. After all, he was his best friend.
Not seeing anyone around, he climbed out of the doorway, praying that his mother was too busy with his father to notice him. It wasn't like he was deserting his father. Not really. After all, casualties always came with war, and sometimes one had to make a sacrifice. Piccolo had taught him that in the wilderness.
Hunching over, he snuck towards Piccolo's tree. It was strange the way that his mentor always avoided sleeping near everyone else. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide. Did he?
It didn't matter. What did matter, was that Piccolo knew about what he had seen. It was well worth sacrificing his father for; well, his father would have done the same if he'd noticed.
Sure of himself now that he was in the relative safety of the trees, Gohan straightened, stretching from his crouch with a deliberate ease. He really enjoyed being able to control his body sometimes. Only sometimes.
"What are you doing out here, Gohan?" The gruff voice was unmistakable. Smiling brilliantly, Gohan turned towards the shadowed figure. Piccolo's outfit, though white, blended into the forest shadows perfectly. It always amazed Gohan how that happened. It was, after all, scientifically impossible, or aught to be in his opinion.
"Uhm, Piccolo," Gohan began, voice soft "Who do you think the lady is? I mean, she was in a Saiyajin ship, right? And she seems to know Vegeta. Do you think she's dangerous? I mean, well, I can feel her ki and it's high. Higher than Krillins and Tiens kis. Do you think.?" The soft-spoken litany suddenly cut out as Piccolo gestured for silence. Gohan let the questions drop away as he strained to hear any sound of movement.
Turning towards the clearing, Gohan could see his tent open from the inside. He and Piccolo watched as a lithe form extracted from the tent, stretching with practiced ease. Black eyes scanned the forest until they reached where they stood.
"Y'know, it's impolite to stare." Came a soft, rich voice. "I might just decide to stare back."
***
A/N: Well, it's short. and short. Uh, SORRY!
~Liberty
NIGH NIGH, SWEET BABY
Chilling winds whipped dark hair into his face, tearing at his unprotected body. The emerald shirt and black cargos hardly sheltered his lithe form, orange socks clashing horribly. A torn black jacket covered his back, its red insignia marking him as a soldier. One of the last of an army that had once proclaimed ownership of the world. Ice-blue eyes scanned the forests below, searching for a sign of his other half. Dying light caught his eye, and he leapt from the mountain ledge, flying into the night.
It had taken the entirety of five minutes before Vegeta's tent virtually exploded. Bulma's voice was drowned in a litany of blasts from her other half as she tried to explain the predicament to the enraged prince. Nothing seemed to be penetrating his brain. As per usual. 18 never really understood how Bulma could stand the vile monkey. After asking earlier, she was treated to a talk on all the great things that were Vegeta. "Not much on THAT list." She added to herself, smirking.
It wasn't that she didn't like Bulma and Chi chi; it just irked her that they were so under their men's thumbs. Sure, Chi chi ruled her home with an iron hand, but she still did all the housework, and Bulma had a son and husband to look after. Living with her brother for so long, she knew how slob-like men could be. Not a day went by without an argument over the state of the furniture, the messes on the floor and the trash bin. It was like Gero all over again. "18 do the washing." Or "18, hang out the clothes."
It was different with Krillin. He washed, dried, hung out clothes, sewed, even took out the trashcan. Living with him was a new experience. She just hoped that marrying him wouldn't change life too much.
Gohan stuck his head out of the tent, hoping to see Krillin or Tien. It was strange, the way that Vegeta was always yelling. He guessed that that was just the way that he was. Like Bulma. He liked Bulma; she was nice to him and let him play with Trunks whenever he wanted. And Piccolo. He really liked Piccolo. After all, he was his best friend.
Not seeing anyone around, he climbed out of the doorway, praying that his mother was too busy with his father to notice him. It wasn't like he was deserting his father. Not really. After all, casualties always came with war, and sometimes one had to make a sacrifice. Piccolo had taught him that in the wilderness.
Hunching over, he snuck towards Piccolo's tree. It was strange the way that his mentor always avoided sleeping near everyone else. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide. Did he?
It didn't matter. What did matter, was that Piccolo knew about what he had seen. It was well worth sacrificing his father for; well, his father would have done the same if he'd noticed.
Sure of himself now that he was in the relative safety of the trees, Gohan straightened, stretching from his crouch with a deliberate ease. He really enjoyed being able to control his body sometimes. Only sometimes.
"What are you doing out here, Gohan?" The gruff voice was unmistakable. Smiling brilliantly, Gohan turned towards the shadowed figure. Piccolo's outfit, though white, blended into the forest shadows perfectly. It always amazed Gohan how that happened. It was, after all, scientifically impossible, or aught to be in his opinion.
"Uhm, Piccolo," Gohan began, voice soft "Who do you think the lady is? I mean, she was in a Saiyajin ship, right? And she seems to know Vegeta. Do you think she's dangerous? I mean, well, I can feel her ki and it's high. Higher than Krillins and Tiens kis. Do you think.?" The soft-spoken litany suddenly cut out as Piccolo gestured for silence. Gohan let the questions drop away as he strained to hear any sound of movement.
Turning towards the clearing, Gohan could see his tent open from the inside. He and Piccolo watched as a lithe form extracted from the tent, stretching with practiced ease. Black eyes scanned the forest until they reached where they stood.
"Y'know, it's impolite to stare." Came a soft, rich voice. "I might just decide to stare back."
***
A/N: Well, it's short. and short. Uh, SORRY!
~Liberty