"Security" By MJ Banks
The night hung like a black curtain over the low building. Its steel fences, topped with barbed wire, glistened in the blue-white glow from spotlights. This was a building with some of the best security on Earth. Not an unauthorized soul had ever made it past the first perimeter fence. Vegeta, prince of the Saiyans, was attempting to go farther than those former infiltrators. The building, owned by the Security security company, held Vegeta's prized soybean. He grunted and moaned as he struggled up the first perimeter fence, clad in black armor and dark cloth, his pointy hair being the only uncovered part.
"Stupid fence," Vegeta muttered angrily, and struggled between the top of the fence and the spring-like coil of razor wire, his small height allowing him to pass the wire and spare the skin on his heels. Nearby, five guards stood atop a guard tower, looking about for anything of importance, or anything worth firing their rubber band rifles at.
"I'm hungry!" complained the first guard.
"Hungry?" the second guard inquired, surprised, "you just ate six pies!"
"I'm going to go play basketball!" the third guard interjected.
"You can't leave your guard duty you idiot! Besides, basketball ain't allowed here," snapped the second guard, turning to the third guard.
"Isn't. That would be, "basketball isn't allowed here," the fourth guard corrected. The second guard reached over and grabbed the fourth, then hurled him over the railing. He fell through the air, and, just before he hit, he realized something.
"Oh! I've wasted my life correcting speech errors!" In an instant, he was a crunched, rather mushy heap outside the first perimeter. Meanwhile, Vegeta had gotten past the third fence, and was at the base of the last. However, the guard tower was right by the last containment fence.
"Finally! The final containment final finial fin!" Vegeta whispered to himself, the anticipation of retrieving his soybean growing.
"Look down there!" the first guard said, "A pointy-hairded guy! Let's throw mashed pudding at him!" The guards proceeded to throw the mashed pudding cups at the intruding Vegeta. His black outfit soon became pink and brown with strawberry and chocolate pudding streaks.
"Pudding? Yuck!" Vegeta began to cough and sputter as the pudding grenades filled his mouth with the strawberry-chocolate-dirt mixture.
"Aren't we supposed to shoot intruders?" the third guard asked.
"Shut up!" the fifth guard, silent before, shouted. Guard three was not happy to be shut up by a lesser guard, and shoved guard five from the tower. He soon lie in a heap of bones and tattered flesh.
While the ceasefire caused by guard five's demise was brief, it was enough to allow Vegeta to come up and reach the door. He drew a small-bladed circular saw from his backpack and started it. The million cycles performed a second created a high-pitched whine, barely audible. The miniature tool had soon sliced through the lock's bolt. The heavy tungsten steel door swung aside. Vegeta crept in.
"Now," Vegeta said, after seeing the white halls of Security, "If I was a weird security company, where would I hide a soybean?" he glanced around, not finding anything of importance. A younger man named Charlie, about twenty, with brownish hair ran up and poked a needle into Vegeta's forearm.
"Let's go!" he said, and ran off down the hall. Vegeta cursed.
"It's all blitixty," said a tow-haired man named Mestru. Another man, about twenty-five years of age, appeared. His name was Matt.
"Out, Mestru," Matt said, "You're not welcome here." Charlie ran up again.
"But…I'm a member of the club!" Mestru argued.
"Your membership has been crustated," Charlie said, and ran off down the white hallway.
"Leave me alone!" roared Vegeta, "I'm trying to infiltrate this place!" Charlie appeared again, and pricked Vegeta's arm again.
"Let's go!" Charlie said, in the same way as before, and ran off in the same way as before.
"A trio of fools," Vegeta muttered under his breath.
"Shut up, you twit!" Matt said cheerfully. Vegeta's eyes narrowed.
"What did you call me?" the Saiyan prince demanded. Charlie came and pricked Vegeta's arm again, said, "Let's go!" and ran off again.
"Take of that ridiculous thief's outfit!" Matt commanded. Vegeta just stood there, his arms crossed. Matt then proceeded to yank the clothes. They came off, reducing Vegeta to his usual navy blue tank top and pants.
"You wouldn't dare take my undies!" Vegeta yelled.
"No I wouldn't," said Matt, wincing. Charlie came, pricked, said, "Let's go!" and ran again.
"What the hell is that fool doing?" Vegeta demanded. Matt was unfazed by the prince's attitude.
"He's testing your DNA. We're checking authorization. If you're not authorized, you'll be killed." Vegeta chuckled. Charlie repeated his routine. Mestru, who had not moved the entire time, said a jumbled string of bellowing sounds. In an instant, he was faced with a Ki blast, and in another instant, became quiet as he was blown to bits. Charlie then appeared, and pressed a plate against Vegeta's face, which molded to his facial features. Charlie said, "Let's go!" again and ran off.
"Now what are you idiots doing?" Vegeta growled.
"Getting a face print," said Matt. Charlie ran up once more, and Vegeta leapt back. However, instead of pricking or printing Vegeta, he handed Matt a clipboard.
"Let's go!" Charlie said, and trotted off again.
"Tsk tsk," Matt said. "Tssk. Tsssssssk. Tsssssssssssssssssssskkkk," as he scanned the small dot-matrix-printed slip. It said the following:
Subject: Vegeta Briefs
DNA Pattern:- -- -- ------ -- -- - - --- - -- -
- -- ------ --- -------- --- ---- -- --- -- -- ----
---------- -- - -- ---- --- -- -- -- -- -- -- -----
Authorized?: No.
Date of Entry: 11/11/11
Kill?: Yes.
Date of Killing: 11/12/11
Forsheezy: No.
Matt showed the Saiyan prince the paper. He grunted.
"That's hardly fair." a man in a suit, with "Lawyer" tattooed on his forehead appeared. He cleared his throat.
"That is inadmissible as evidence!" the lawyer yelled. A baseball bat struck him in the head, and he fell to the ground, and emitted a canvas sound as his Armani suit-clad body was dragged across the linoleum.
Vegeta saw an opportunity. He trotted off, down the hallway Charlie had continually come from and disappeared into. He banged across a catwalk over several vats. Rows of deadly chemicals were hung from the walls. He dropped onto the top of a tank.
"I've got to get out of here!" Vegeta exclaimed, "These people are insane! Forget the soybean!" A pudding grenade struck the Saiyan, and he looked up. A guard was there.
"I've got to hide somewhere. I bet it's safe in this vat!" Vegeta said to no one in particular. He opened the round hatch. Pungent flakes of the gel inside began to fly off the surface, as a tank temperature warning sounded. Vegeta saw the fullness of the vat, changed his mind, and ran off. Charlie slammed the vat and ran off.
A baseball bat struck Vegeta as he fled, and dragged off to the safe room by Matt. The room looked like a concrete gymnasium, and needed to be that big, for there were many workers for the Security security company, and many of them were giant robots or just very tall humans.
"Why did Vegeta have to disturb that tank? That stuff's probably gotten warmed up and liquefied. I'll bet there's an explosion about to happen," Matt said. Surely enough, the highly thermo sensitive chemical blew its tank seconds later, along with the tanks around it, raising the temperature of the other vats to a dangerous -198 Celsius.
"I'm awake," Vegeta growled, "why the heck are we in here? Listen to me! Answer me!" A tall green being, a Namek, Piccolo himself, actually, strode up and cleared his throat.
"Is everyone here insane, or do I have to start breaking pencils?" he roared. The others stared at him, confused. He stepped back. The girl known as Android Eighteen stepped up, holding a baseball bat, and pushed a blond strand of hair out of her face.
"I love my job," she said, smiling. Suddenly, crackling, then thumping and booming came from above them.
"Shut up!" Vegeta yelled at the ceiling.
The chemicals went
Bam,
BABOOOM!
Security was flattened
(Author's note: a good deal of the original version content was removed from the final version, due to a computer error that erased the changes. I apologize for the lost humor.)
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Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I never did.
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The Director of the Unified Pork Products Cheese Union says: I'm a little teapot, short and stout; here is my handle, here is my spout.