Chapter 5
Do not own any of the DBZ characters!
The building went dark, and at 1:00, his paperwork was finally finished. Lance Darkeye, flight expert, and ex-Vietnam fighter pilot was exhausted. His little business had "flown" to incredible heights in the last few years, and everyone "seemed" to want a cheap plane ride. His little plane, The Rippin' Red, he had owned for ten years, and he gave people rides for almost nothing. Yet they always "seem" to tip me a lot, he thought. Yeah a lot of things "seem" to be going good, except the profit of course.
"Another wasted day", he had flown three people to Mexico, and they paid him fifty dollars! "Talk about your cheapskates," he muttered in the dark. He walked over to his plane, checking it for damage. As he checked, he once again stared at the red logo. The two R's had to mean something. That's how he made up the name The Rippin' Red.
He rubbed his chin and looked at it some more, and wait? What was that written on the side? Very small, never noticed it before. Lance bent down until his nose touched the cold metal. "General Blue," he read aloud. "Hmm.." must have been the last owner. He sighed, oh well; it was time to go home. Not for the first time he thought of his life. All he had was his plane, and the company. Well, Blue's plane.
Lance started walking to his rusty old Lincoln. It had been his grandmothers, and he didn't have the heart to sell it. He used it to get to his nice, fancy home. "Yeah keep dreaming Lance, "He muttered. He lived in a run down cabin out in the Dead Tree forest, ands he was working very hard to get a new house. Just once he'd like to come home to a warm house with dinner on the table. His kids would be running around in the freshly mowed back yard, while his lovely wife gives him a foot massage. He jerked, Where did that come from? "Foot massage?" he chuckled shaking his head.
But hell, I'd take all that anyday.He quickly got into his car and locked the doors. It wasn't safe to be outside late at night, not with the murderer still on the loose. "Poor Jack," he sighed starting the car. Jack had been a lumberjack who worked for Lance.
Every Sunday he'd bring some firewood to his hut and they'd sit on the back porch with a beer. But last Sunday he didn't come over, so he took the beers to drink at Jack's house. Knowing Jack he was asleep, sick, or already drunk. "Well you and Bub were gone," he said fighting back tears. He had gone home after calling Bub's name for awhile, but the dog wasn't coming. The next day the body was found face down in the stream, two days dead. His neck had been torn off, and not a drop of blood was left in the body. He looked up, and realized he'd already made it home. According to the clock, he had been thinking about Jack for the past twenty minutes.
Can't lose it like that Lance, he thought with rage. What if I'd have gone off into a tree huh? He was shaking as he ran into the house, and not because of the cold air. Locking the door behind him, he wished it would just all end. He didn't want to go on this way. No family, no friends, no money, no anything! On top of it all was Jack's body disappearing from the Morgue!
He started to sob and crossed his arms, well; I'll just have to find some way to change my life if I hate it so much. Suicide's out, Lance disbelieved in it greatly.
The shadows began to move, merge into a whole.
Maybe a second job? "That could work," he said sadly as he rocked back and forth. I'm becoming unstable!
Two tails emerged from the dark shadow; approaching Lance's huddled form.
"I need a new home too," he said strongly, pounding his fist into his palm. He would not be pushed down in life!
Mez grinned as he took shape, He had found "his" home all right.
Lance stammered on to himself, "Besides, the whole county knows me, trusts me! I could always go to them for advice."
He approached the depressed man and poised his tail ready to strike.
"I'm hungry, it's dinner time, "He thought in unison with Yoshin Mez as the tail entered the man's back and started to feed.
He grinned, flicking his purple hair out of his yellow eyes with a green clawed hand. This was the perfect specimen, good house too. With this human being trusted within the community, and obviously linked to the Red Ribbon Army, yes there were possibilities. Yoshin Mez laid his sword on the mantle and switched on the television. This is one earth object he had grown quite fond of.
Do not own any of the DBZ characters!
The building went dark, and at 1:00, his paperwork was finally finished. Lance Darkeye, flight expert, and ex-Vietnam fighter pilot was exhausted. His little business had "flown" to incredible heights in the last few years, and everyone "seemed" to want a cheap plane ride. His little plane, The Rippin' Red, he had owned for ten years, and he gave people rides for almost nothing. Yet they always "seem" to tip me a lot, he thought. Yeah a lot of things "seem" to be going good, except the profit of course.
"Another wasted day", he had flown three people to Mexico, and they paid him fifty dollars! "Talk about your cheapskates," he muttered in the dark. He walked over to his plane, checking it for damage. As he checked, he once again stared at the red logo. The two R's had to mean something. That's how he made up the name The Rippin' Red.
He rubbed his chin and looked at it some more, and wait? What was that written on the side? Very small, never noticed it before. Lance bent down until his nose touched the cold metal. "General Blue," he read aloud. "Hmm.." must have been the last owner. He sighed, oh well; it was time to go home. Not for the first time he thought of his life. All he had was his plane, and the company. Well, Blue's plane.
Lance started walking to his rusty old Lincoln. It had been his grandmothers, and he didn't have the heart to sell it. He used it to get to his nice, fancy home. "Yeah keep dreaming Lance, "He muttered. He lived in a run down cabin out in the Dead Tree forest, ands he was working very hard to get a new house. Just once he'd like to come home to a warm house with dinner on the table. His kids would be running around in the freshly mowed back yard, while his lovely wife gives him a foot massage. He jerked, Where did that come from? "Foot massage?" he chuckled shaking his head.
But hell, I'd take all that anyday.He quickly got into his car and locked the doors. It wasn't safe to be outside late at night, not with the murderer still on the loose. "Poor Jack," he sighed starting the car. Jack had been a lumberjack who worked for Lance.
Every Sunday he'd bring some firewood to his hut and they'd sit on the back porch with a beer. But last Sunday he didn't come over, so he took the beers to drink at Jack's house. Knowing Jack he was asleep, sick, or already drunk. "Well you and Bub were gone," he said fighting back tears. He had gone home after calling Bub's name for awhile, but the dog wasn't coming. The next day the body was found face down in the stream, two days dead. His neck had been torn off, and not a drop of blood was left in the body. He looked up, and realized he'd already made it home. According to the clock, he had been thinking about Jack for the past twenty minutes.
Can't lose it like that Lance, he thought with rage. What if I'd have gone off into a tree huh? He was shaking as he ran into the house, and not because of the cold air. Locking the door behind him, he wished it would just all end. He didn't want to go on this way. No family, no friends, no money, no anything! On top of it all was Jack's body disappearing from the Morgue!
He started to sob and crossed his arms, well; I'll just have to find some way to change my life if I hate it so much. Suicide's out, Lance disbelieved in it greatly.
The shadows began to move, merge into a whole.
Maybe a second job? "That could work," he said sadly as he rocked back and forth. I'm becoming unstable!
Two tails emerged from the dark shadow; approaching Lance's huddled form.
"I need a new home too," he said strongly, pounding his fist into his palm. He would not be pushed down in life!
Mez grinned as he took shape, He had found "his" home all right.
Lance stammered on to himself, "Besides, the whole county knows me, trusts me! I could always go to them for advice."
He approached the depressed man and poised his tail ready to strike.
"I'm hungry, it's dinner time, "He thought in unison with Yoshin Mez as the tail entered the man's back and started to feed.
He grinned, flicking his purple hair out of his yellow eyes with a green clawed hand. This was the perfect specimen, good house too. With this human being trusted within the community, and obviously linked to the Red Ribbon Army, yes there were possibilities. Yoshin Mez laid his sword on the mantle and switched on the television. This is one earth object he had grown quite fond of.