Well, here's another fic for you. This time I'm going away from the B/V
fics and trying something different. Here we have a Juunanagou/original
character romance! I don't know where this story will progress or if I'll
finish it (don't worry, in all likelihood I will) but I would like any plot
suggestions you have so please include them in your reviews.
Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ, plot is mine. The mane Priss and Hot Legs bar are taken from Bubble Gum Crisis. The bar is the same but I'm just taking the name Priss. The Priss in Bubble Gum Crisis and the Priss here are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT characters, they just have the same name.
Prologue
My life is like the highway, it just keeps going. An endless leading to nowhere. I dream about it sometimes, the highway. It's a warm spring day.at least I think it's spring, the weather's not too hot, but not too cold.and I'm human, I can feel the wind whip across my leather jacket and plaster the flared part of my jeans to my claves as I ride my motorcycle down the vast expanse of asphalt. My heart soars, I'm human.alive.But then I see the construction sign, the diamond shaped splotch of neon orange that reads ROAD WORK AHEAD in black letters. It quickly flits through my vision and disappears behind me in a blink. The road becomes cracked now, broken and dusty. There's so much dust! It swirls around me like a tornado, burning my eyes and scraping my bare skin. It's only now I realize I'm naked. The motorcycle jolts, I've just ran over a pot hole. More and more appear and it becomes impossible to avoid them all. Suddenly a massive hole appears in the road, I try to put on the brakes but my motorcycle is rusting underneath me, the shiny chrome and red paint flaking away and disintegrating into copper colored powder. But somehow I'm still moving, something pulls me to the edge of the hole, and suddenly I stop. I'm at the edge, teetering on tiptoe. The cut in the road is clean and precise, like it was made with a scalpel. It frightens me. I look across the black abyss and I can see the road continuing on the other side, its clean there, warm, sun shining, gentle breeze blowing, fluffy clouds in the sky. My side of the road is dark, clouds of copper dust blot out the sun, the wind is blowing harshly. I feel myself being lifted up by the wind, I try to scream but I can't make a sound. I feel hands on my body, cold hands running across my skin. Then I feel the sharp edge of the scalpel even though I can't see it. the base of my skull is numb and I realize I'm falling. The hands have let me go, and I try to scream again but I can't. I just keep falling.falling.falling.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Priss groaned and reached out a hand and fumbled around in the darkness, searching for the small round object that was the cause of the annoying sound. She found it and flipped the little switch on the back. The beeping stopped. She sighed and rolled over on her back, stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. No matter how hard she tried the joints would never pop. She could fold her spine in two and there would be no sound.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Light coming in through the window above her bed filtered through the blinds, creating long bars of light in an expanse of gray. Slowly she sat up. Pushing the sheets away, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. Though she did not need to, she turned on the tap and let the water run for a shower.
The water felt scalding on her skin but she made no move to adjust it. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and vigorously scrubbed the soap into her short hair. When she was little she always wanted to have long hair. The scent of plumaria filled the bathroom when she opened the Bath and Body Works body wash.
She stretched out her soapy arms and watched the water wash the bubbles away. She continued to stare at her arms; her skin was smooth and pale, just a few shades above white, the arms themselves were slender but well defined by muscle. She flexed her arms and her bicep became a steel knot. She balled her hands into fists, watching the fingers move, the bones in her hand twitched and she felt a sudden urge to snap them, and she could. Just push her fingers through the skin and tear out the steel rods connected to synthetic knuckle joints.
Save the self destruction for the songs, she said to herself and with a sigh she turned off the water. It was always hard this time of year, this one day she always wished would never come. How long had it been? Forty years? Fifty? Yes, fifty sounded right. Of course it was fifty years. The date was printed into her head with a laser.
She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from off the rack beside the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was about five foot six with short, spiky black hair, blue eyes, and a face most would call pretty. The white towel hid her well endowed chest and finely toned abdomen, her legs, just like her arms, were nothing but muscle.
She reached for the blow dryer and quickly dried her hair; it immediately stood up on end, the short locks of black permanently spiked. She threw the towel on the floor of the bathroom and walked to her closet.
It was a small closet, but it suited Priss fine, she didn't have many clothes, and all of them were the same so it didn't really matter. Deftly, she pulled out a black halter top and a pair of jeans and threw them on the bed, then she bent down and retrieved a pair of white socks, a black thong, and her steel toed combat boots.
She tied the strings at the top of the halter top just below the base of her neck and tied the strings at the bottom in a neat bow at the center of her back. She pulled on the thong and jeans, then sat down to tie her shoes. When she was done, she stood up and headed out the door, grabbing her purse and leather jacket off the kitchen counter. She opened the door and stepped out into the dim hallway. She locked the door behind her and put the key in her purse and pulled the jacket over her arms and shrugged her shoulders.
"Good morning, Priss," said an elderly woman walking down the opposite end of the hall.
"Hello, Mrs. Baily," Priss replied. She fished around in her purse and pulled out a crinkled white envelope. "Here's the next six month's rent," she said handing Mrs. Baily the envelope. The elderly woman took it and smiled.
"Thank you honey. I really appreciate you paying the rent on time.unlike some people we all know," she said the last part with bitterness in her voice and shot a cold glair to the door right beside her. Priss smiled kindly.
"I swear that Yamcha never pays the rent on time. Just because he's some big baseball player doesn't give him the right to skip out on the rent."
"Maybe he'll pay it this time," Priss responded. She didn't really know any of her new neighbors, having just arrived in town two weeks ago.
"Maybe if he had a nice girl like you in his life he'd pay the rent on time. It's funny though," Mrs. Baily rambled. "I always thought he'd end up marrying that Briefs girl but-"
"Briefs?" Priss asked, a shocked expression on her face.
"Why yes dear, he was engaged to Bulma Briefs, owner of Capsule Corporations, but something happened and she ran off with another man and-"
"Tell me," Priss interrupted again. "Is this Bulma, the daughter of Dr. Thomas Briefs?"
"Yes she is, and a very nice girl too, always reminded Yamcha to pay-"
"Er.Look at the time!" Priss exclaimed, looking at an imaginary watch. "I've enjoyed talking with you but I really must be going."
Priss walked down the hall and got in the elevator, which she thankfully didn't have to wait for. She stood in the center of the elevator, watching the numbers slowly go down.29.28.27.
So, Dr. Briefs is alive.she mused. I've already killed Daniels and Mayson.I thought only Gero was left but I guess not. Once I finish with him, I'll take care of good Dr. Briefs.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Priss's steel toed shoes clicked loudly on the marble floor of the small lobby. Out of all the hotels in Orange Star City she could have picked worse, but she could have picked better too.
Well, that was the prologue. Hope you all liked it. if you haven't guessed by now Priss is an android, but she isn't an ordinary android. To find out what happens next, you'll have to REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ, plot is mine. The mane Priss and Hot Legs bar are taken from Bubble Gum Crisis. The bar is the same but I'm just taking the name Priss. The Priss in Bubble Gum Crisis and the Priss here are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT characters, they just have the same name.
Prologue
My life is like the highway, it just keeps going. An endless leading to nowhere. I dream about it sometimes, the highway. It's a warm spring day.at least I think it's spring, the weather's not too hot, but not too cold.and I'm human, I can feel the wind whip across my leather jacket and plaster the flared part of my jeans to my claves as I ride my motorcycle down the vast expanse of asphalt. My heart soars, I'm human.alive.But then I see the construction sign, the diamond shaped splotch of neon orange that reads ROAD WORK AHEAD in black letters. It quickly flits through my vision and disappears behind me in a blink. The road becomes cracked now, broken and dusty. There's so much dust! It swirls around me like a tornado, burning my eyes and scraping my bare skin. It's only now I realize I'm naked. The motorcycle jolts, I've just ran over a pot hole. More and more appear and it becomes impossible to avoid them all. Suddenly a massive hole appears in the road, I try to put on the brakes but my motorcycle is rusting underneath me, the shiny chrome and red paint flaking away and disintegrating into copper colored powder. But somehow I'm still moving, something pulls me to the edge of the hole, and suddenly I stop. I'm at the edge, teetering on tiptoe. The cut in the road is clean and precise, like it was made with a scalpel. It frightens me. I look across the black abyss and I can see the road continuing on the other side, its clean there, warm, sun shining, gentle breeze blowing, fluffy clouds in the sky. My side of the road is dark, clouds of copper dust blot out the sun, the wind is blowing harshly. I feel myself being lifted up by the wind, I try to scream but I can't make a sound. I feel hands on my body, cold hands running across my skin. Then I feel the sharp edge of the scalpel even though I can't see it. the base of my skull is numb and I realize I'm falling. The hands have let me go, and I try to scream again but I can't. I just keep falling.falling.falling.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Priss groaned and reached out a hand and fumbled around in the darkness, searching for the small round object that was the cause of the annoying sound. She found it and flipped the little switch on the back. The beeping stopped. She sighed and rolled over on her back, stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. No matter how hard she tried the joints would never pop. She could fold her spine in two and there would be no sound.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Light coming in through the window above her bed filtered through the blinds, creating long bars of light in an expanse of gray. Slowly she sat up. Pushing the sheets away, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. Though she did not need to, she turned on the tap and let the water run for a shower.
The water felt scalding on her skin but she made no move to adjust it. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and vigorously scrubbed the soap into her short hair. When she was little she always wanted to have long hair. The scent of plumaria filled the bathroom when she opened the Bath and Body Works body wash.
She stretched out her soapy arms and watched the water wash the bubbles away. She continued to stare at her arms; her skin was smooth and pale, just a few shades above white, the arms themselves were slender but well defined by muscle. She flexed her arms and her bicep became a steel knot. She balled her hands into fists, watching the fingers move, the bones in her hand twitched and she felt a sudden urge to snap them, and she could. Just push her fingers through the skin and tear out the steel rods connected to synthetic knuckle joints.
Save the self destruction for the songs, she said to herself and with a sigh she turned off the water. It was always hard this time of year, this one day she always wished would never come. How long had it been? Forty years? Fifty? Yes, fifty sounded right. Of course it was fifty years. The date was printed into her head with a laser.
She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from off the rack beside the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was about five foot six with short, spiky black hair, blue eyes, and a face most would call pretty. The white towel hid her well endowed chest and finely toned abdomen, her legs, just like her arms, were nothing but muscle.
She reached for the blow dryer and quickly dried her hair; it immediately stood up on end, the short locks of black permanently spiked. She threw the towel on the floor of the bathroom and walked to her closet.
It was a small closet, but it suited Priss fine, she didn't have many clothes, and all of them were the same so it didn't really matter. Deftly, she pulled out a black halter top and a pair of jeans and threw them on the bed, then she bent down and retrieved a pair of white socks, a black thong, and her steel toed combat boots.
She tied the strings at the top of the halter top just below the base of her neck and tied the strings at the bottom in a neat bow at the center of her back. She pulled on the thong and jeans, then sat down to tie her shoes. When she was done, she stood up and headed out the door, grabbing her purse and leather jacket off the kitchen counter. She opened the door and stepped out into the dim hallway. She locked the door behind her and put the key in her purse and pulled the jacket over her arms and shrugged her shoulders.
"Good morning, Priss," said an elderly woman walking down the opposite end of the hall.
"Hello, Mrs. Baily," Priss replied. She fished around in her purse and pulled out a crinkled white envelope. "Here's the next six month's rent," she said handing Mrs. Baily the envelope. The elderly woman took it and smiled.
"Thank you honey. I really appreciate you paying the rent on time.unlike some people we all know," she said the last part with bitterness in her voice and shot a cold glair to the door right beside her. Priss smiled kindly.
"I swear that Yamcha never pays the rent on time. Just because he's some big baseball player doesn't give him the right to skip out on the rent."
"Maybe he'll pay it this time," Priss responded. She didn't really know any of her new neighbors, having just arrived in town two weeks ago.
"Maybe if he had a nice girl like you in his life he'd pay the rent on time. It's funny though," Mrs. Baily rambled. "I always thought he'd end up marrying that Briefs girl but-"
"Briefs?" Priss asked, a shocked expression on her face.
"Why yes dear, he was engaged to Bulma Briefs, owner of Capsule Corporations, but something happened and she ran off with another man and-"
"Tell me," Priss interrupted again. "Is this Bulma, the daughter of Dr. Thomas Briefs?"
"Yes she is, and a very nice girl too, always reminded Yamcha to pay-"
"Er.Look at the time!" Priss exclaimed, looking at an imaginary watch. "I've enjoyed talking with you but I really must be going."
Priss walked down the hall and got in the elevator, which she thankfully didn't have to wait for. She stood in the center of the elevator, watching the numbers slowly go down.29.28.27.
So, Dr. Briefs is alive.she mused. I've already killed Daniels and Mayson.I thought only Gero was left but I guess not. Once I finish with him, I'll take care of good Dr. Briefs.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Priss's steel toed shoes clicked loudly on the marble floor of the small lobby. Out of all the hotels in Orange Star City she could have picked worse, but she could have picked better too.
Well, that was the prologue. Hope you all liked it. if you haven't guessed by now Priss is an android, but she isn't an ordinary android. To find out what happens next, you'll have to REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
