Disclaimer: If I owned Dragonball Z, or even The Phantom of the Opera for that matter, do you think I would be writing fanfiction?



Think of Me and Run





Think of me



Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye

Remember me

Once in a while; please promise me you'll try

When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment . . .

Spare a thought for me





"Movie Star Resigns From Cinema"

"Another Claims Murderer Sighting"

"New Cooking Appliance Hopes To Change Future of Culinary Art"

"Are Children's Television Shows Too Adult?"

Goku folded his Paper in half across his lap. The headlines got more boring every day and these had to be the worst of the bunch. If only he could find a fighter for his team that was real media material. Sure, his fighters were good, unprecedented even, but he needed something to gain publicity, to make more people come to the tournaments to see the fights. So far, these last few tournaments on the Grand Tour only turned up a hundred or so people, which was insulting. Tien and Chaozu threatened to quit if more people did not come to see them fight, and Krillin was just plain bored with his teammates. He felt like they were getting too routine and could predict each other's moves easily. He was not too far off. But where was he going to get any new members that could spice things up like that? All the contestants who had any charisma or media appeal were too weak to throw a decent punch, let alone win a battle.

Goku looked to his wife Chichi sitting next to him. Though their team had Goku's name on it, Chichi was the one who really made the head decisions. She had a unique eye for spotting fresh personalities and had been the one who had agreed to take Yamcha and Krillin on their team five years ago over a few others who were stronger, reasoning that their lighthearted personalities would pay much more than their strength. Not to mention the fact that with Goku's training, their strength problems would be pretty much out the window. She had been right, of course, and both the bald- headed ex-monk and the scarred ex-desert bandit had become very valuable members of their team.

Right now she looked as bored as he did.

Tien threw another punch at the rookie he was fighting, sending the poor fool skidding across the floor and halfway off the ring. Tien did not bother to waste his energy to finish him off and just tapped him with his foot. The other fighter fell unceremoniously out of the ring and out of the tryouts. Tien looked down at the mangled heap for a moment as the medics carried it out on a stretcher before stalwartly walking down the stairs to wait for his next opponent.

"Yeah! Go Tien!" little Chaozu cheered to his oldest friend enthusiastically.

Tien frowned. "I don't need any congratulations for beating that newbie. I need a challenge."

"Don't worry, Tien. I'm sure one will show up this year. I just know it," the little doll-faced fighter reassured the triclops.

"I hope you're right."

Goku put his head in his hands at the result of the last fight. This seemed hopeless. Each fighter was worse than the last, and the first had not been able to last more than two minutes. He turned to his left to speak to Yamcha.

"Who's next on the list, Yamcha?"

"Uh well, Coach-" he started.

Goku held up his hand. "Please, Yamcha. It's been five years now. Call me Goku," the coach smiled benevolently to his pupil. "Some coaches like it when you address them formally, but I like to be friends with my team members."

"Okay, Co-uh, Goku."

"So then, who's next?" Goku got back on the original subject.

"Well . . .that was it," Yamcha admitted sadly. "It looks like we won't be getting any new recruits this year either. That guy was the last one on the list," he said pointing to the carnage that lay on the quickly moving stretcher on its way to the medical facilities.

Goku's normally cheerful face fell. "I guess Chichi won't be cooking a "Welcoming the New Guy Party" meal today then," he looked to his helpful housewife, who at present, was asleep. "You'd better tell Krillin that he's not going to get another fight today."

"Yeah," Yamcha said in a depressed manner. He really wanted to have another rookie. Then he would not be the new guy anymore.

"Hey Krillin!" Yamcha shouted from the stands to the arena, arousing Chichi with a snort in mid-snore. The small, bald man was walking towards the arena while tightening his loose belt around his fighting uniform when his head snapped up at the sudden address. Yamcha continued.

"You can go home now, buddy! There aren't any other fighters left!"

Krillin dropped his jovial expression. "What? Aww man! That's it? But we didn't even sign on any new ones!"

Goku sighed as he stood up from his seat, picking up the now drowsy, but awake, Chichi. "Come on, Chichi. We're done for the day." Chichi mumbled something in response in that incoherent language that only newly roused sleepers speak.

Tien stuffed his hands in his loose green fighting trousers that were his usual outfit and walked towards the exit with Chaozu floating along behind while Krillin started packing his duffel bag.

"WAIT!"

Nearly every head in the room snapped up at the cry, even Chichi's. From the side entrance a woman with long blue hair trailing behind her in a high ponytail ran to the ring, her attire clearly showing she was ready for a fight.

"Wait," she panted when she got there, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Her pastel pink shirt rose and fell with her laboured breathing and contrasted pleasantly against her loose navy-blue sweat pants with their bottoms tucked into her stylish suede boots. "I . . . I came here . . . for . . . for the tryouts . . ." she huffed.

"But . . . but you're a girl," Tien pointed out.

"My, aren't you observant," the woman teased him lightheartedly after catching her breath. Tien blushed. "Yeah, so, I'm a girl. It's not unheard of to have women fight in the tournaments, you know. Android Eighteen did it," she stated matter-of-factly.

Krillin blushed a bit at her mention of the beautiful, blonde, and championship fighter Android Eighteen, but quickly recovered and called up to the stands where Goku was escorting his wife out.

"Hey, Goku! Should I fight her, or should we just make her leave?" his hands cupped around his mouth to make the sound carry better. The woman gave him a nasty glare and Krillin quickly covered with, "No offense, but you don't really look like much of a fighter, and I have a heavy schedule to stick to. I've got places to be, you know?"

"Well," she huffed indignantly, "excuse me for trying to destroy your tenuous grasp on a social life, Mr. Heavy Schedule," sarcasm dripped from her tongue.

"Whoa, boys!" Krillin laughed lightly. "This girl's got a mouth on her! We'd better watch out!"

Krillin's amiable disposition rubbed off a bit on the woman, and she found herself laughing right along with the others. Goku chuckled as well as he called down to them.

"Go ahead and fight her, Krillin. I want to see what she can do."

"Great," the woman said enthusiastically as she stretched out her legs and started warming up while Krillin set his duffel bag back down. He cracked his knuckles as he walked up the stairs to the elevated ring, the woman following behind him.

Little Chaozu drifted back towards the ring to referee the fight while Krillin got into a classic fighting stance, his feet apart, arms bent with one in front, the other in back, both hands shaped like loose claws prepared to become fists in the blink of an eye. The woman, surprisingly, stood simply with her arms crossed over her chest with her feet apart, apparently completely unguarded.

*This girl's got to be joking,* Krillin thought as he lowered his head slightly to magnify is fighting potential in that position, the movement making the sunlight glare off of his bald head. *She's not even prepared to defend herself! And she expects to join the team with that kind of technique?*

The woman simply smirked in a disturbingly knowing way, as if she could hear the thoughts right from one's head. All present in the room stared at this foolish woman who insisted on letting her guard down before a fight. Goku took his seat next to Chichi again and leaned forward with his hands clasped under his chin in a pondering manner. *She's either very stupid, or very, very good,* he decided.

Chaozu blinked and shook his head, taking his attention off of the foolish woman to begin his refereeing duties. "On my mark," he started in his very tenor voice.

Krillin adjusted his stance just slightly, a small cloud of dust rising up from where his boot scraped across the white-tiled ring.

"Get set," Chaozu raised his arm in preparation for its signifying descent.

Goku narrowed his eyes in thought as the woman still refused to put up any type of defense when the start of the fight was mere seconds away. Sitting beside him, Chichi, now awake, chewed her nail in thought as well, for, though not nearly as strong or experienced as the actual fighters on her team, she did know quite a bit about fighting herself, and this was definitely not how it was supposed to be done. Down at ringside, all three of Tien's eyes fixed in a frown as he pondered this new development, though he secretly hoped that the woman would offer at least a decent fight; Krillin had been becoming far too cocky in his opinion as of late. Back up in the stands, Yamcha's brows furrowed in bit of confusion as he thought over and over, *Where have I seen that woman before?*

"Go!"

Krillin launched up not one second after the falling of Chaozu's arm signified the beginning of the match, flying in a blur of orange and blue uniform with his hand preparing a punch. He struck at the woman, but surprisingly, the once seemingly defenseless fighter snapped up an arm in a perfectly timed block, though she had not moved from her original stance. Caught slightly off-guard, Krillin attacked with his left arm to her stomach, and as he expected, his fist was caught in a classic maneuver. Before the woman had time to react, he brought his right leg up in a very quick kick, an unanticipated move for his part, since he normally would have attacked with another punch from the right. The woman was sent sprawling to the other side of the ring, almost over the edge, though she almost instantly regained her composure and gracefully flipped back into a standing position, glaring blue fire at the little ex-monk.

Her next move came so quickly that Krillin almost did not see it, and would not have, had he not been such an experienced fighter. She swung out a blue-trousered leg at his head, and, already expecting the block with his left hand, threw a punch to his unprotected side. It connected perfectly, and Krillin found himself in her position prior as she used her left leg to kick him to the other side of the ring. He skidded a bit on his side, part of his face bouncing a slightly on the journey, before he rolled to a stop. He immediately kicked himself up, wiping a bit of blood that trickled down the side of his mouth, compliments of his encounter with the floor. The frown that formed on his countenance seemed incredibly out of place for the normally blithe man.

The woman grinned evilly, slowly raising up her hand and drawing her fingers toward herself in a taunting motion. "Bring it on, little man," she said derisively.

If there was one thing Krillin hated, it was having his stature laughed at. He growled and sped across the ring to his opponent, gathering his energy into his fists in order to finish the fight with his next move. The wind rushed across his smooth head as his uniform fluttered a bit behind him, tugging at the front of his frame. His footsteps came in such rapid succession that it became difficult to determine where one ended and the other began, where one foot lifted and the other descended. All five and a half pairs of eyes nervously watched the scene unfold before them, the only other movement in the room besides Krillin's attack being the dust rising from where he had launched himself. He could feel himself cutting through the air like a speeding bullet and he pulled his arm back in preparation to strike as his target came closer and closer. Suddenly he made his move, his fist traveling with such speed and strength that no mere human could survive it.

It passed right through her.

Before Krillin had time to realize his blunder of attacking a mere after- image, or time to cease his stampeding steps, a petite, booted foot swung gracefully in front of his feet, causing him to stumble over the edge of the ring. He flailed his arms comically as he lost his balance and plummeted to the turf around the outer area. Then it suddenly occurred to him that he could fly.

Krillin wiped the sweat off his brow as he hovered a mere four inches above the ground, laughing in a tired, relieved way. He turned his head from the view of the short, well-watered grass with a cocky smirk on his face.

"Wow, you almost got me there!" he teased with sarcasm as he folded his now controlled arms over his chest smugly. "Too bad I've got so much more experience than you that-ugh!"

His victory speech was cut short as the woman landed on his back with both feet, sending him to the ground he had so narrowly avoided previously. Chaozu gasped; Yamcha did a double take; Chichi's eyes widened; Goku laughed; Tien blinked thrice. The woman modestly held up the victory sign to the stands while her feet stayed planted on his back. Krillin coughed up a bit of turf.

Absolute silence permeated the arena for a moment.

"Goku! Sign her up now!" Chichi screamed as she shook her husband by the collar of his shirt.

"B-but Chichi," he stuttered as his head jostled back and forth, "that's your job . . ."

Chichi paused in mid-shake. "Oh. Right." She barely finished her statement before rushing down to ringside in a blur of her purple over- dress and pink pants.

The woman blinked as Chichi suddenly appeared next to her, a trail of dust slowly settling to the ground behind the wife of Goku. Chichi vigorously shook the new comer's hand with a smile that split her face from ear to ear. "Congratulations!" she said, still pumping her arm up and down. "When can we sign you up? Now? Is now good?"

The woman's blue eyes sparkled as she laughed. "Sure," she said.

Krillin coughed again. "Could you get off of me now?" he said exasperatedly.

The woman giggled with her hand over her mouth in an abashed manner. "Hehe, sorry about that," she said through her snickers as she leapt off of him.

"Yeah, sure you are," Krillin said, getting up as he brushed himself off with his hand. "You're probably about as sorry as-" whatever comment he was about to make as his attention was suddenly drawn to the entrance of the outdoor arena. "H-hi, Eighteen," he stuttered with a blush.

"Krillin," the blonde fighter acknowledged flatly with a nod of her head as she stepped onto the grassy turf in her usual attire: black and white striped, long-sleeved shirt, black T-shirt, blue jean capris, and black buckled shoes.

"So," he said slyly through the slight pain he felt as a remnant of he latest defeat, "have you come to your senses and decided to switch teams?"

"Hmph," Eighteen smirked with a cocked brow. "Hardly. I would never pass up the chance to lick you, Baldy. You know that."

Krillin laughed and put his hand behind his shiny head. "Well it never hurts to try."

"It does with me, little man," Eighteen mock glared at him.

Chichi smiled at the successful female fighter. "Hello Eighteen. What might you be doing here? Trying to scope out the competition? Not that you need to, of course. Last I heard, you were doing fairly well for yourself, girl."

Eighteen gave a smug but friendly look to the self-appointed manager of the Dragon team. "Just trying to see which rookie you're signing on to be a challe-what are you doing here?" her blue gaze rested upon the new woman.

"I'm the rookie who's signing on to be a challenge for you," the azure- haired woman smirked to the android in a familiar manner.

"Yes, well," Chichi interjected before the woman could invoke the volatile blonde's notoriously short temper, "I'd better be getting her to the papers. Wouldn't want her to run away from me now." She put her hand around the woman's shoulders and practically dragged her to the fighters' waiting area where her papers would be. Eighteen followed of her own volition, despite the lack of invitation. Strangely enough, the woman's open challenge seemed to have no effect on her, though normally she would have just punched her out.

Krillin blinked a bit at Eighteen's abnormal behaviour, but quickly recovered and, upon seeing her leave, hunched over a bit in pain, having now the opportunity to drop his charade.

"Come on, tough guy," Goku said supporting the bald fighter on his shoulder, now down at ringside with a curious looking Yamcha. It was a rather comical sight, seeing how Goku happened to be at least two feet taller than him.

Krillin smiled weakly through his wounded ego. "Thanks, Goku."

"Don't mention it, pal," the quintessential vacuous smile returned to the wild-haired manager.

Tien and Chaozu led the way to the medical bay, where countless other fighters now lay, having tried out of the team and failed with bloody noses, broken limbs, and other . . . less dignified injuries. Yamcha followed, also pulling Krillin along with the monk's arm around his shoulders, but giving a last curious look to the fighters' waiting area.



Chaozu wrapped another bandage on Krillin's midsection as Tien looked at his bald comrade with a bit of humour.

"I can't believe you got beaten up by a girl," the triclops snickered. "How do expect to get a date if you lose fights to women?"

"Hey, at least I try to find women! You spend all your time with the equivalent of a porcelain baby do-ouch!" he yelped as Chaozu pulled a bandage a little too tight.

"Watch it, Krillin," he tried to look threatening through his rosy cheeks and alabaster skin.

Goku chuckled at the feeling of love and camaraderie in the room as he dabbed some peroxide onto a cotton swab. "Come on, guys," he smiled to his team, "stop fighting. Teammates are supposed to support each other through thick and thin. And not only are we teammates, but we're friends. That makes support even more important."

A cricket chirped somewhere in the background.

"Ouch! Chaozu!" Krillin broke the silence and rubbed his arm where the circulation was slowly being cut off by an overly tight bandage. "Come on," Krillin pleaded with the little doll-faced fighter, "I'm okay, really. Just a little scratched up."

"Yeah you're scratched up. Did you have to hit every rock on your way out of the ring?" Chaozu slapped an adhesive bandage on a particularly nasty laceration. "Coach Goku, could you help me with these cuts?"

"Sure Chaozu, but I wish you would just call me Goku. Coach is so formal," he said as he walked over to Krillin, peroxide and cotton swabs in hand. As he leaned down to dab an exceptionally deep cut, something kept his eyes hooked to it. Neglected of medical attention, the cut released a single drop of crimson blood that leaked from the wound at the top of his head and trickled down the side of his face. Goku's eyes followed.

*"What was that?!"

"The wall's been blown in! Someone's attacking us!"*

The red bead rolled past Krillin's eye, slowly bending its course as it trailed across the convexity of his cheek. It fell past his ear and flowed to his jaw-line, where it rested like an inverted icicle on the verge of falling.

*"My son! He took my son!"

"Leave him! We have to get out of here!"

"I will not leave my son!"

"He'll kill us all if we don't leave now!"

"FATHER!"*

The blood finally relinquished its hold on Krillin's face as it plummeted to the ground below. A glint of the fading sunlight from outside reflected off the crimson droplet before it collided with the tile floor, shattering upward in a rain of scarlet crystals.

*"Maiza, take Kakarot out of here!"

"But what about you?!"

"I'm staying. We can't let that monster win! We must fight!"

"But-"

"GO!"*

All he could see was red. Blood was everywhere; he was surrounded by it, breathing it in. The stench made it hard for him to breathe as he lay there, listening as screams resonated through the air. He had the distinct feeling that most of them were his. The dead do not scream.

"Uh . . . Goku?"

The normally happy manager was brought back to the present only to be greeted with a large hand waving in front of his face. He blinked at Tien as the hand finally stopped.

"Huh?" Goku questioned eloquently.

"Here, let me take that from you," the triclops said as he grabbed the cotton swab and the bottle of peroxide which was down leaking onto the floor in a steady stream, a result of Goku's loose grip. Goku shook his head and cleared out the remains of the strange images that had just passed through his head.

"Hey, has anyone seen Yamcha?" Tien asked as he poured a bit more peroxide on the swab.

Goku looked around the room. "Didn't he come in with us?"

"Well he's not here now," Chaozu said, finishing up another bandage.

Krillin looked puzzled. "I wonder where he could have-darn it, Tien! That stuff stings!"





"Sign here," Chichi pointed to one of the many dotted lines on the large form, "and here . . . address here . . . phone number . . . another signature here . . . parent's phone number and address . . . license plates . . . signature . . . your great grandmother's maiden name . . . your name in printing . . . your weight on the moon in kilograms . . ."

"Hold on a minute . . ." the blue-haired woman frantically scratched her pen on the form.

Eighteen gave an unlady-like snort from inside the closed doorway. "She's only messing with you. All you really need is your signature, address, and phone number."

Chichi playfully glared at the blonde fighter from the Kame team. "Spoilsport."

The blue-haired woman wiped her brow as she finished the form. "There. That looks like it's about done."

"Good," Chichi stated briskly. "Now for the rules. You probably know all the rules in the ring, but there are a few rules of how the fighters should act outside the arena."

"Okay then, shoot," the blue-haired woman smiled.

Chichi cleared her throat. "Rule number one: no bribing the judges."

"Understandable," the woman said.

"Rule number two: no tampering with the line-up."

An affirmative nod.

"Rule number three: no dating members of the teams."

The woman blinked her blue eyes at her. "Why not?"

"Because," Eighteen interjected, "if a member were to date another, they would do all that was within their power to keep from fighting each other."

"Yes," Chichi nodded, her black bun bouncing slightly with the movement. "And that could lead to bribing judges, tampering with the line-up, losing matches on purpose, or sabotage of the other teams."

"Let me guess," the woman said, "losing matches on purpose and sabotage are the next two rules."

"Right," Chichi said.

"Oh, by the way," the woman turned her head to look at the surly blonde in the doorway, "Eighteen, how's that arm doing?"

"Fine. You did a good job on it. Much better than those darn medics could."

"You're a doctor?" Chichi asked her newest investment.

"No. Just a technological genius."

Chichi blinked a bit before the realization hit her and she felt rather silly. "Oh, yes, of course. You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to having androids in the tournaments."

"You'd better get used to it, Chichi," Eighteen smirked. "You'll have to fight three of us when you go against Kame team."

Chichi rubbed her temples despairingly. "Don't remind me."

"Have a rough few years against the androids?" the woman asked inquisitively.

Chichi sighed. "Well, Sixteen's easy enough to beat if you distract him with small children or animals, but Eighteen and her brother are a different story."

"Yeah, but they were designed to fight as a team. If you split them up, they shouldn't be that hard to fight. It's all a matter of divide and conquer."

"Bulma!" Eighteen shouted indignantly. "Don't go giving away our weaknesses to her!"

"Why not?" the woman asked lightheartedly. "After all, I am on her team now. I don't see why I can't give her a few tips on strategy against our enemies."

Chichi mulled the new information in her head. "Bulma? Bulma Briefs?"

"The one and only," Bulma said modestly.

"I've heard about you. You designed the androids, right?" Chichi asked.

"Well, not exactly," Bulma said. "Dr. Gero originally designed them, but my father and I modified them a bit. You know, removing high explosives from their bodies, taking out the microchip that gave them a thirst for destruction. All the routine maintenance things."

"This is wonderful!" Chichi stood up excitedly. "You probably know all about their strengths and weaknesses from their designs! This is pure gold! There's no way we could lose this year!"

"Actually, the probability of us losing is still-"

"Oh, don't ruin it for me, you priceless little gem you!" Chichi pinched Bulma's cheek happily.

"Ow . . ." Bulma rubbed her cheek a bit, and decided to change the subject before Eighteen decided to follow her instincts and blast the room into oblivion, if her glare was any indication.

"So, do we have the introductions now, or do we have other plans for that?"

"Well," Chichi pondered, "normally we would have a party after the signups, but it's getting late, and Master Roshi said we should have the welcoming party with his team too. I hear they got quite a few new fighters, eh Eighteen?"

Eighteen folded her arms over her chest and closed her eyes with disdain. "They're still all just a bunch of weaklings. I think Master Roshi's eyesight is going."

Chichi laughed. "That's not the only thing. Last I heard, he spent an entire day trying to remember where the bathroom was in his own house."

Eighteen huffed. "It's a good thing we have someone as organized as Launch helping the old man out. Too bad she's such an unbelievable ditz, though."

"Well," Bulma laughed a bit, "I can't wait for that welcoming party. It sounds like all the teams are just one big, dysfunctional family."

It was Chichi's turn to laugh. "That's a new way of putting it, but yes, I guess we are. Speaking of family, it's about time I fed my husband. You know how bad he can get when he doesn't get his food," Chichi smiled to Eighteen.

"Don't remind me," the android grimaced. "The echoes resonated through the city for hours. I don't know of anyone else who has such an annoying whine."

"How late is it?" Bulma asked Chichi.

"I'm not sure, but it looks like the sun is setting," Chichi separated some of the blinds on the small window in the room.

"Sunset?" Bulma stood up. "Well, I've got to get going now. We're done here, right?"

"Right," Chichi said cheerfully, but slightly curious as to where her new financial venture was in such a hurry to get to.

"When's that party?" Bulma called to Chichi from the doorway.

"A week from today."

"Thank you!" Bulma rushed out of the room in a blur of long, blue hair. There was a muffled "oomph!" as she shoved the door open, but she paid it little attention as she dashed toward the exit.

As her footsteps receded, the door slowly creaked closed, revealing a very disheveled, and very flattened, Yamcha. Now registering what he had just overheard from the waiting area, and very confused to boot, he croaked out one word:

" . . . Bulma?"

WHACK!

Chichi hummed a happy little tune as she opened the door, staring dreamy- eyed at the now signed form that legally bound Bulma to her. Her feet practically skipped across the floor as she headed toward the medical bay where she knew a hungry husband awaited her.

Once again the door closed and Yamcha looked even flatter, if that were possible. He staggered to his feet, however, and managed to stand for a full ten seconds before having to repeat the process. The door opened yet again, and Yamcha winced, raising his arms in an effort to shield himself from the on-coming blow. Fortunately for him, the door was not opened so hastily this time.

Eighteen stepped out of the room with that ever-present stoic look on her face, though the few who were able to read into those cold, blue eyes would be able to tell that she was thoughtful. *I wonder why Bulma ran out so fast,* she raised her finger to her lips pensively. She stood there for a moment, simply thinking, until a whimper came from behind the door. Curious, Eighteen peeked around it to see Yamcha, still cowering from behind the door. She rolled her eyes and walked out, but not before punching him in the face and knocking him unconscious.

"Weakling," she muttered.





AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to those who reviewed! I hope this chapter was to your liking, since the only enjoyment I get out of this is the positive feedback, or even the constructive criticism. I know I bashed Yamcha and Krillin a bit, but hey . . . I'm sure they don't mind terribly, and it appeals to my twisted sense of humour. Unfortunately, I'm only human and can't update as soon as I would like to, due to the fact that the next chapter isn't even written yet o_O. I hope you will all be patient with me. I'll try to make it worth the wait. Until then!

~Chunks

And thanks to Jason for helping me figure out how to do all of this! Technology scares me.