Disclaimer: I own nothing but Bruvo...I've got plans for him soon.
If anyone gets the asshole award for neglecting their fanfiction, it would be me. I am so very sorry for the month-long break I took from continuing. Along with the end of my senior year of high school putting on the ending pressures, I was plagued with writer's block...a month of it. So, hopefully, I'm over it, and my once-faithful readers are still somewhat interested, and they don't want to set fire to my house. If you like, take a read...I'd appreciate it.
Chapter 22
Up the hallway, down the hallway. Up the hallway, down the hallway. "I want to punch something!" Bulma thought anxiously. The second match-up was already over. "I can't believe I'm fighting fourth! I still have another fight to wait for!" Exasperated, all she could do was pace. The fights were televised in the lounge, but she couldn't stand to sit and watch the fights and not be in them. "I didn't come here to wait! I came to fight!" Balled her fists impotently. "I want to punch something...", she thought again. She was so lost in her impatience that she didn't notice a fighter at the other end of the hall.
"Hey!" he called to her, drawing from her fury. "What are you doing here? This place is for fighters." He approached her slowly, surveying her from head to foot. Bulma's eyes flashed to meet the stranger's. "I'm a fighter," she said, in a slow, even, and barely controlled tone.
"You are?" The stranger's dark brows shot up in surprise. He had a squared face, and squared shoulders to match. She gave him a quick once over, noticing that the man was solidly built, like a brick wall. "When do you fight?"
"Fourth."
"Really? I can see why you are so anxious, then," The stranger seemed to loose his surprise as he continued," I'm fighting seventh."
Bulma's eyes widened. "Seventh? How can you take it?"
The stranger's lips stretched into a slow grin. "Ah, I don't know...I'm a very patient person, I guess. This is my second tournament...I made it to the finals last time, too. I remember being somewhat as antsy as you are right now." He looked over her again, and said with a wink, "I wasn't quite so pretty, though."
Bulma looked up at the man. Although he towered over her an added two or three feet, he had a harmless countenance, so she relaxed a bit and smiled back. "Come on...let's go get something to drink."
"An invitation I'd gladly take."
As they walked down another hall, Bulma inquired, "So, what's your name?"
"Bruvo. What's yours?"
"My name is Bulma Briefs."
"Briefs? As in the scientist?"
Bulma smiled. "The one and only. How did you know?"
"Well, when I'm not training, I read science journals...hobby, so to speak. I've got lots of ideas about teleportation." Bulma raised an eyebrow, and Bruvo shrugged. "I've even tested a few prototypes in transporting your capsules across rooms. My theory is if we can store all goods in capsules, and we find the simplest and easiest method of transporting them, it could improve much..." He trailed off as they reached the refreshment room. Bulma grabbed a bottle of water for herself and threw one to Bruvo. "Have any of your experiments been successful?"
"This morning, I managed to get really close. I believe that I'm really close...I would have stayed and worked, but then I wouldn't have been able to compete." Bruvo leaned against the wall casually. "Now tell me your story."
"My story? Let's see...," said Bulma, and she began to pick and choose certain parts of her recent history to share with her new friend. "All of my friends had always fought in tournaments, and I always felt left out, so with the help of my..., uh, friend...I trained."
"Friend?" Bruvo said, lifting an eyebrow, and Bulma blushed. Bruvo smiled at her reaction and said, "I thought so. No way a woman as pretty as you could waltz in here single...any chance you might be single any time soon?" Bulma laughed at that. "I doubt it."
"Ah well, can't blame me for trying. Where is your man now?"
Bulma motioned with her head, "He's out in the crowd."
"You mean he's not fighting?" Bruvo said, confused. "Why? Is he a wuss or something?"
"Vegeta! A wuss!" Bulma laughed loudly. "He better not hear you say that! No, he didn't fight this time so I could win. If he was in the competition, I'd probably not win."
Bruvo looked amused. "And what makes you think you'd win now?"
Bulma tried not to look smug and said, "I guess we'll just have to see, then, won't we?"
Bruvo opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by cheers in one of the lounge rooms. "I guess the third fight is up...that means you're up next." Bulma's jaw hit the floor, and Bruvo laughed. "I'll be watching from the lounge...I wouldn't miss this!" Bruvo patted her on the top of the head, then walked to the lounge. Bulma stood for a second, then bolted to the preparation area.
"Fighter 173! Fighter 173! Where is 173?" The official yelled loudly. "I'm right here!" Bulma called. The official stopped and looked down at her. "I'm calling for Fighter 173, miss. If you need something, please go back into the main building. I'm busy!" Bulma gritted her teeth and stomped up onto the platform that the official was on. She reached out and grabbed him by the front of the shirt and violently tugged him upward. "Listen here, you baka." She grabbed the number on her shirt. "See this? It says 173. I AM FIGHTER 173, and if you say anything about it,...after I win this fight, I'll come back here and whip your ass, okay? Now go announce my number!" and she threw him on his butt. "O.. o...okay, miss fighter...lady...uh...," said the frightened official as he scampered away like a field mouse. "That was unnecessary," she heard Vegeta's voice in her thoughts. "It needed to be said!" she thought vehemently in reply. "Where are you?"
"I'm close enough. You'll see me when you get out. Are you ready? I can feel your anxiety...don't be nervous. It's insulting," he joked with her.
"I'll show you insulting when I get done...You know what's insulting? Making me wait! I'm about to blast the whole damn place!" She smiled as Vegeta's laugh echoed inside her head. "I know what you mean..." he said, "Just wait a few more seconds...you'll be fighting soon enough."
"Did you catch the first three fights?"
"I missed the first one...and the second,...and the third. You're the only one I'm here to see."
"Arg! How can I cheat and know their skills now?"
Vegeta laughed in her thoughts again. "Maybe by watching the television monitor in the lounge?"
"I couldn't sit and watch someone else fight...I paced the hallways." Bulma looked down, and a different official signaled for her to enter the ring. "I'm coming out now...watch and be proud."
Bulma held her head up high as she walked into the ring, hearing the blond announcer proclaim her number to the humongous crowd...and she heard the humongous gasp that they let out when they realized she was a woman. She listened to the rumble of murmurs as the crowd, breathing deeply...containing her growing anger. "I'll show them when I fight...I'll show them..." she repeated her mantra over and over.
Bulma walked up the steps and saw the announcer standing by a normal-sized man, not much taller than her, long purple hair and broad shoulders. He chuckled in a deep voice as he watched her gracefully cross to the center, ignoring the loudly captivated crowd. "A female? What a bully I'll look like when she's sprawled on the ground!" he said in a heavily Russian-accented voice. Bulma smiled sweetly and replied, "Too bad we won't get to see it." She heard masculine laughter from the crowd and spied Vegeta out of the corner of her eye. She almost smiled, but continued to stare up at her first competitor. "What is so funny, missy?"
"You'll see soon," she replied cryptically.
The man opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the announcer. "Okay, you two...you know the rules. When I fire the gun, you can begin. You have 30 minutes. Good luck!" The announcer jogged to the edge and jumped to the ground. "Okay, fans!" he bellowed into the microphone, met by cheers from the audience. "Here's our fourth battle, number 51 and 173! Ready fighters? Go!" The gun shot loudly into the air.
"Okay, missy. I apologize for what I'm about to do," the Russian said as he bent low in preparation.
"I'm not the one you should apologize to."
"What do you mean?"
"You should apologize to the audience for such a short fight."
The Russian's face grew a reddish purple shade, and he said, "You will pay for that disrespectful comment!" and he charged at her as quickly as he could.
Bulma quickly side-stepped the Russian's attack without much effort. "Hey, you...," he muttered, and turned to charge again. This time, Bulma didn't move, but waited until just the right moment. She reached for his arm and halted him, squeezing unmercifully. "Whoa!" he cried, being whip-lashed from the sudden halt. "I'm ending this now...I don't want to waste my time on you any longer," she said to him, and swung her right fist, connecting with his gut. She didn't hit him very hard, but he still doubled over in amazed pain. He gurgled a bit before passing out onto the floor beneath him. Bulma dusted off her hands and crossed them in front of her before quietly walking away. She heard the announcer exclaim, "And 173 ends the fight under five minutes!" She never looked back as the deafening roars serenaded her back to the building. When she reached the ground, she heard Vegeta in her mind, "Smooth. Very smooth." She smiled and walked back in the building.
Okay, I know...I don't even have the right to ask for reviews, but if you can find it in your heart to review, I will honestly do a happy dance. I'm sorry once again.
Wanna join my mailing list? Either:
A. Tell me in a review.
B. Leave your e-mail address in a review.
C. E-mail me privately at songbird333@adelphia.net.
If anyone gets the asshole award for neglecting their fanfiction, it would be me. I am so very sorry for the month-long break I took from continuing. Along with the end of my senior year of high school putting on the ending pressures, I was plagued with writer's block...a month of it. So, hopefully, I'm over it, and my once-faithful readers are still somewhat interested, and they don't want to set fire to my house. If you like, take a read...I'd appreciate it.
Chapter 22
Up the hallway, down the hallway. Up the hallway, down the hallway. "I want to punch something!" Bulma thought anxiously. The second match-up was already over. "I can't believe I'm fighting fourth! I still have another fight to wait for!" Exasperated, all she could do was pace. The fights were televised in the lounge, but she couldn't stand to sit and watch the fights and not be in them. "I didn't come here to wait! I came to fight!" Balled her fists impotently. "I want to punch something...", she thought again. She was so lost in her impatience that she didn't notice a fighter at the other end of the hall.
"Hey!" he called to her, drawing from her fury. "What are you doing here? This place is for fighters." He approached her slowly, surveying her from head to foot. Bulma's eyes flashed to meet the stranger's. "I'm a fighter," she said, in a slow, even, and barely controlled tone.
"You are?" The stranger's dark brows shot up in surprise. He had a squared face, and squared shoulders to match. She gave him a quick once over, noticing that the man was solidly built, like a brick wall. "When do you fight?"
"Fourth."
"Really? I can see why you are so anxious, then," The stranger seemed to loose his surprise as he continued," I'm fighting seventh."
Bulma's eyes widened. "Seventh? How can you take it?"
The stranger's lips stretched into a slow grin. "Ah, I don't know...I'm a very patient person, I guess. This is my second tournament...I made it to the finals last time, too. I remember being somewhat as antsy as you are right now." He looked over her again, and said with a wink, "I wasn't quite so pretty, though."
Bulma looked up at the man. Although he towered over her an added two or three feet, he had a harmless countenance, so she relaxed a bit and smiled back. "Come on...let's go get something to drink."
"An invitation I'd gladly take."
As they walked down another hall, Bulma inquired, "So, what's your name?"
"Bruvo. What's yours?"
"My name is Bulma Briefs."
"Briefs? As in the scientist?"
Bulma smiled. "The one and only. How did you know?"
"Well, when I'm not training, I read science journals...hobby, so to speak. I've got lots of ideas about teleportation." Bulma raised an eyebrow, and Bruvo shrugged. "I've even tested a few prototypes in transporting your capsules across rooms. My theory is if we can store all goods in capsules, and we find the simplest and easiest method of transporting them, it could improve much..." He trailed off as they reached the refreshment room. Bulma grabbed a bottle of water for herself and threw one to Bruvo. "Have any of your experiments been successful?"
"This morning, I managed to get really close. I believe that I'm really close...I would have stayed and worked, but then I wouldn't have been able to compete." Bruvo leaned against the wall casually. "Now tell me your story."
"My story? Let's see...," said Bulma, and she began to pick and choose certain parts of her recent history to share with her new friend. "All of my friends had always fought in tournaments, and I always felt left out, so with the help of my..., uh, friend...I trained."
"Friend?" Bruvo said, lifting an eyebrow, and Bulma blushed. Bruvo smiled at her reaction and said, "I thought so. No way a woman as pretty as you could waltz in here single...any chance you might be single any time soon?" Bulma laughed at that. "I doubt it."
"Ah well, can't blame me for trying. Where is your man now?"
Bulma motioned with her head, "He's out in the crowd."
"You mean he's not fighting?" Bruvo said, confused. "Why? Is he a wuss or something?"
"Vegeta! A wuss!" Bulma laughed loudly. "He better not hear you say that! No, he didn't fight this time so I could win. If he was in the competition, I'd probably not win."
Bruvo looked amused. "And what makes you think you'd win now?"
Bulma tried not to look smug and said, "I guess we'll just have to see, then, won't we?"
Bruvo opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by cheers in one of the lounge rooms. "I guess the third fight is up...that means you're up next." Bulma's jaw hit the floor, and Bruvo laughed. "I'll be watching from the lounge...I wouldn't miss this!" Bruvo patted her on the top of the head, then walked to the lounge. Bulma stood for a second, then bolted to the preparation area.
"Fighter 173! Fighter 173! Where is 173?" The official yelled loudly. "I'm right here!" Bulma called. The official stopped and looked down at her. "I'm calling for Fighter 173, miss. If you need something, please go back into the main building. I'm busy!" Bulma gritted her teeth and stomped up onto the platform that the official was on. She reached out and grabbed him by the front of the shirt and violently tugged him upward. "Listen here, you baka." She grabbed the number on her shirt. "See this? It says 173. I AM FIGHTER 173, and if you say anything about it,...after I win this fight, I'll come back here and whip your ass, okay? Now go announce my number!" and she threw him on his butt. "O.. o...okay, miss fighter...lady...uh...," said the frightened official as he scampered away like a field mouse. "That was unnecessary," she heard Vegeta's voice in her thoughts. "It needed to be said!" she thought vehemently in reply. "Where are you?"
"I'm close enough. You'll see me when you get out. Are you ready? I can feel your anxiety...don't be nervous. It's insulting," he joked with her.
"I'll show you insulting when I get done...You know what's insulting? Making me wait! I'm about to blast the whole damn place!" She smiled as Vegeta's laugh echoed inside her head. "I know what you mean..." he said, "Just wait a few more seconds...you'll be fighting soon enough."
"Did you catch the first three fights?"
"I missed the first one...and the second,...and the third. You're the only one I'm here to see."
"Arg! How can I cheat and know their skills now?"
Vegeta laughed in her thoughts again. "Maybe by watching the television monitor in the lounge?"
"I couldn't sit and watch someone else fight...I paced the hallways." Bulma looked down, and a different official signaled for her to enter the ring. "I'm coming out now...watch and be proud."
Bulma held her head up high as she walked into the ring, hearing the blond announcer proclaim her number to the humongous crowd...and she heard the humongous gasp that they let out when they realized she was a woman. She listened to the rumble of murmurs as the crowd, breathing deeply...containing her growing anger. "I'll show them when I fight...I'll show them..." she repeated her mantra over and over.
Bulma walked up the steps and saw the announcer standing by a normal-sized man, not much taller than her, long purple hair and broad shoulders. He chuckled in a deep voice as he watched her gracefully cross to the center, ignoring the loudly captivated crowd. "A female? What a bully I'll look like when she's sprawled on the ground!" he said in a heavily Russian-accented voice. Bulma smiled sweetly and replied, "Too bad we won't get to see it." She heard masculine laughter from the crowd and spied Vegeta out of the corner of her eye. She almost smiled, but continued to stare up at her first competitor. "What is so funny, missy?"
"You'll see soon," she replied cryptically.
The man opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the announcer. "Okay, you two...you know the rules. When I fire the gun, you can begin. You have 30 minutes. Good luck!" The announcer jogged to the edge and jumped to the ground. "Okay, fans!" he bellowed into the microphone, met by cheers from the audience. "Here's our fourth battle, number 51 and 173! Ready fighters? Go!" The gun shot loudly into the air.
"Okay, missy. I apologize for what I'm about to do," the Russian said as he bent low in preparation.
"I'm not the one you should apologize to."
"What do you mean?"
"You should apologize to the audience for such a short fight."
The Russian's face grew a reddish purple shade, and he said, "You will pay for that disrespectful comment!" and he charged at her as quickly as he could.
Bulma quickly side-stepped the Russian's attack without much effort. "Hey, you...," he muttered, and turned to charge again. This time, Bulma didn't move, but waited until just the right moment. She reached for his arm and halted him, squeezing unmercifully. "Whoa!" he cried, being whip-lashed from the sudden halt. "I'm ending this now...I don't want to waste my time on you any longer," she said to him, and swung her right fist, connecting with his gut. She didn't hit him very hard, but he still doubled over in amazed pain. He gurgled a bit before passing out onto the floor beneath him. Bulma dusted off her hands and crossed them in front of her before quietly walking away. She heard the announcer exclaim, "And 173 ends the fight under five minutes!" She never looked back as the deafening roars serenaded her back to the building. When she reached the ground, she heard Vegeta in her mind, "Smooth. Very smooth." She smiled and walked back in the building.
Okay, I know...I don't even have the right to ask for reviews, but if you can find it in your heart to review, I will honestly do a happy dance. I'm sorry once again.
Wanna join my mailing list? Either:
A. Tell me in a review.
B. Leave your e-mail address in a review.
C. E-mail me privately at songbird333@adelphia.net.