The Advent Of Seventeen
"Since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved."
-Niccolo Machiavelli (1469 - 1527), The Prince
Ughhh…anyone catch the number of that bus?
No response. Instead, she could hear a distant, yet abnormally close, 'whooshing' sound in the background. She had to strain her hearing capabilities considerably though, since an intangible haze that engulfed her psyche blotted out the sound aberration.
What the hell. Where is that sound coming from? It's so close to me, but I have to strain myself to hear it. Urgh, I think I'm getting senile already.
She stirred, and ignoring the intense throbbing of her skull, she flitted open her eyes. Her eyes met black. She blinked a couple of times, but seemingly nothing alleviated her sight at the moment. She stared, and the black stared back at her, the color allowing her mind to associate it immediately with something. Eyes. Gohan's eyes. But this black was bigger, in a sense. Engulfing her rather than engaging her, like Gohan's eyes did.
Strange. I can't see anything. Am I getting deaf AND blind?! And why the hell am I speaking to myself?? I sure hope I'm not dumb either.
To appease that queasy, nauseous feeling suddenly evident in the pit of her stomach, she gurgled something unintelligible. It sounded like a baby gurgling when it was happy, although there was no flying spittle acting as deadly, and wet, projectiles. Composing her vocal chords, she tried again. Her next attempt, though a considerable improvement from her previous endeavor, didn't seem to quite classify as coherent speech as well.
"Ughh…" That was all her confused and blurred countenance could muster.
What was that?
She was sure she heard a small noise, incomprehensible, but a noise nevertheless. And a noise that she hadn't made either. She also felt some kind of resonance too. Like some noise was echoing back and forth in an empty chamber. She noticed that that resonance came from the black. Her bewildered disposition though, was quelled rather harshly by her body suddenly falling, and contemporaneously spinning, until she felt an iron grip latch on to her ankle.
"You're awake." The voice was monotone, languorous. It had a subtle, yet clearly decipherable connotation of contempt. Videl couldn't put a face on that voice though, since she was literally hanging upside down. The pitch black had cleared, replaced by a sudden influx of new images; darkness, sporadically interrupted by lamps above her, and buildings…yes, definitely buildings, tall buildings.
Even in her disoriented position, her mind rapidly contemplated on her predicament. The darkness, that pervaded and surrounded these images, was the night sky. The lamps were streetlamps, above her only because she was dangling upside down. From the corner of her eye she saw something black, even darker than the night, billowing in the wind. It was her captor's—she presumed that she had been kidnapped—cloak, a dark cloth that shrouded her mystery subjugator in a veil of obscurity.
That was the black. The cape, or cloak, whatever. That was what I saw when I first came back to consciousness. That means I was flung over his shoulder, or something to that effect. That's the only reasonable conclusion.
Years of witnessing decadence and debauchery in her volunteer occupation, Videl Satan had become accustomed to the methods of perception used by detectives and their ilk. Rationally perceiving any situation, assessing the available facts and making deductions, as well as some likely presumptions, to have a more lucid case to scrutinize was her first instinct. She did just that, but she could not for her life figure out who it was that had her captive at the moment. There were, though, several clues. They were flying. The 'whooshing' noise and her eyes could attest to that fact. That narrowed down her choices. Also, it was someone strong enough to knock her out. But that didn't help much, considering the fact that she was the weakest flyer in the 'Z' contingent. Gohan had provided that little bit of information. .
"Ugh, yes I'm awake. Now would you care to put me down?" She tried to front her captor with some aggravation. She couldn't help it. It came to her naturally. She couldn't swallow her pride at being carried off like some pansy 'damsel in distress' of some fairy tale, only to wait until her knight-in-shining armor came to her rescue. She was strong, and resolute, and she was sure that she could take care of herself easily in this world. The thought of living alone, before she met Gohan, drove her to these unprecedented strengths for a human female.
"Heh. You bore me. Shut up and sit tight." The voice was strangely artificial…she couldn't quite place it, but there was something spurious about it, like a rehashing of something living.
She relented though, now she really wanted to see her 'knight-in-shining armor' come and kick this arrogant son-of-a-bitch's ass straight to hell, and back.
"How can I sit tight? I'm hanging upside down for God's sake!" She exclaimed, scowling at the shrouded figure, not unlike the one she usually trained on Sharpener and the rest of the jocks at school.
The answer she received was a falling sensation, as she realized that the man had let go of her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to await her imminent death. She wanted to scream, call out, but strangely her more than active vocal chords seemed to malfunction. Her lips mouthed a word, specifically a name, but no sound accompanied the synchronized affair. Abruptly she felt herself being yanked upwards, the firm lock again making itself evident on her ankle, as she felt herself flying once again.
"You realize how serious I am girl? Don't test me."
With that, Videl shut up, feeling genuinely scared. It seemed she was being scared a lot recently, when previously nothing managed to scare her. At least that's what she convinced herself of.
Gohan, where are you?
************************************
"Eighteen!" The furious teenager barraged his way back into the living room, stopping short of the confused android.
"Gohan?"
"Where the hell is your brother!" Eighteen gasped at the teen's effrontery and took a tentative step back. She wasn't offended by profanity and brusqueness per se; after all, she was originally designed to kill. What was astonishing was the fact that this impudence came from none other than Goku's son, another being proving himself worthy of riding the 'nimbus' cloud. I mean, altruism runs in his blood, amongst other things.
"Gohan? What are you talking about?" She witnessed the normally jocular saiya-jin's face contort into a look of rage.
"I asked you a question. Where…is…he…?" He took great pains to enunciate each word through gritted teeth.
"I don't know. He left about an hour ago, with the other few that left, citing tiredness as his excuse." Eighteen wasn't one to be intimidated easily, because even though she had mellowed out throughout the course of her marriage, she still retained some of that attitude she had when she first met these 'Z warriors'. So even though the saiya-jin glowered at her menacingly, her stance didn't waver and neither did she flinch.
"Dammit!"
"Why exactly do you need to know where he is?"
"Because he's taken Videl!" Gohan exclaimed, leaving the android perplexed as he headed for the door.
"What do you mean, Gohan? Seventeen is on our side now, remember?" Eighteen pursued the disconcerted teen as he started to literally wear out the hardwood floor with his frantic pacing.
"Yeah, it's all a big sham! He tricked me! Used my naiveté to his advantage, made me into a gullible fool! Damn it, I should have been with her. I should have done something. I should have—" Gohan was interrupted by a bellow of exasperation, mixed with contempt and indignation.
"Shut up boy! If you really are concerned about that Satan brat, stop this mindless blabbing and do something constructive!" Vegeta's eyes had slit threateningly, and although the demeanor in which Vegeta had conveyed this wasn't at all prudent, it did make sense and clicked into the abstracted adolescent.
"Gohan, calm yourself. Fretting over the past isn't going to help," Piccolo inputted. A slight trace of concern was etched on his otherwise stoic disposition, as he watched his former pupil panic like a child.
"Ok, I've gotta be calm, be cool. Think. Come on dammit, think." Thoughts did emerge into the semi saiya-jin's mind, but nothing that would alleviate his current predicament or have any value of input whatsoever. Macabre, disturbing thoughts swirled through him. Thoughts about what Videl could be enduring now, or what horrific events had occurred to his sweetheart. Fear, anxiety, and rage were clouding his mind like thick smog. No visibility. No hope in sight. Just haze, a never-ending, all-encompassing, obscuring, miasma.
Vegeta watched as the boy furrowed his brows in concentration, but try as he might, his attention remained divided. In his preoccupation, relatively nothing constructive was undertaken since he noticed that Videl had gone missing. Vegeta didn't care about the Sons, and especially not about some Human girl whom he hadn't spoken a word to yet. He tried to resist, but it proved futile against that compelling urge he had now to help the distraught boy in his plight. Why? Why would he help him, the son of his arch nemesis? Why did he feel that pricking in his subconscious, urging him to lend a hand? How did compassion breach his armor of narcissism and the ennui he used to feel towards petty human trivialities? The Vegeta of old, the one that would display total apathy for this current scenario, was dead, and he knew it. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but it was there, burning into his pride like acid. Royalty or not, he could not resist that infuriating voice, urging him to do the 'right' thing. The heck with it. He was doing it because he hated that android's guts, yeah.
"Boy, you're starting to irk me. First of all, tell me why you think the android had a part in this." Gohan raised his distraught face from the sanctity of his palms, and eyed Vegeta with surprise. The glower Vegeta sent straight back at him left no room for argument. It implied a clear-cut message; shut up and comply willingly, or get an earful.
"It's a long story, but to cut it short, I deduced it by science and the fact that he lied to me. It proves enough, as far as I'm concerned, about his deceit."
"So he lied, even androids are capable of lying, I presume." Vegeta was dead set on getting the facts first, before deciding upon the correct course of action.
"He killed somebody, and lied about it to cover it up. He even went so far as to make it appear that he tried to help the man and save him from dying. He put up a whole charade to help me apprehend the supposed murderers. The goddamn charlatan!" Gohan seethed, again letting his emotions bubble up to the surface. Talking a deep, calming breath, he suppressed the sudden insurgence and tried to keep his rationale from completely dissipating.
"Gohan, losing your cool is the worst thing you can do to Videl at the moment. If you want us to help, tell us what happened with Android Seventeen to make you accuse him of this." Piccolo advised, wisely refraining from jumping to sudden conclusions prematurely.
With a deep sigh, Gohan recapped the events of the shooting he witnessed before, trying to include every small detail he could recall from his distressed mind. "I didn't pay much attention to detail, but now I remember, or rather, now I realized it. It was always there, for when he showed me the corpse I glanced over it, but I never really deduced or conferred anything at that point. I was preoccupied with pursuing the assailants I saw from before, and Seventeen had diverted my attention away from the dead man. But, as I recall, the point-of-entry of the bullets were on the man's chest," he stressed that word considerably. The others, which included his family, Krillen et al. and Vegeta et al., trained blank stares back at him. The rest of the 'Z' gang had already retired to their respective homes.
"The man dived into the water, and conventional wisdom would say that he would be swimming away from the bullets," Gohan clarified, leaving the insinuation of the real perpetrator implied by the statement.
"You say Seventeen emerged with the corpse later?"
"Yeah. I even had a doubt concerning the bullet itself, because the water would have slowed it down considerably."
"Do you have anything else to add?"
"Nope. But, I do remember something. It may be nothing, but when I did confront the guy who shot at the 'dead man' in the first place, he said something about all the gangs in Satan City merging into one giant criminal syndicate."
"So?" Vegeta inquired, while Piccolo deliberated upon what that could mean.
"He said there was a new leader, someone wishing themselves to be hidden."
"You think it's Seventeen?"
"Just a hunch. The guy who was shot, I later found out from the detectives, was part of the Mafia. The guys who were chasing him, the guy I apprehended and who is doing time as we speak in a jail cell for a crime he didn't commit—although I don't feel much remorse for him—are also part of the Mafia. I can formulate two possible hypotheses from this. One: that there was an internal altercation between said members and it ended in this. Or two: the more likely, that they were ordered to dispose of him from the higher-ups."
"Hmm…" Vegeta pondered over this new development, hand on chin.
"Another thing, when Videl was shot," Bulma could plainly see the boy gritting his teeth in an amicable display of self-restraint, "She said that she saw two red 'R's' around the shooter's neck. Seventeen has that bandana tied around his neck sporting the same thing, Red Ribbon. I know the organization is defunct now, and I don't think Seventeen still holds allegiance to it, but he still wears it."
"Gohan, what you said is obscure at best. If, for argument's sake, Seventeen is the leader of this unholy alliance of criminals, then what need was there for him to kill the guy himself? And, what need is there for him to shoot Videl himself as well? It would seem much more plausible that he would let his cronies carry out his dirty work for him. And why shoot? We all know Seventeen doesn't need a gun to kill anyone." Piccolo had decided to play devil's advocate, just to maintain a semblance of balance between the debates of whether or not Seventeen is to blame. He didn't want the Z contingent to jump to erroneous conclusions. Perhaps this was the old geezer he had fused with before, inputting his own breed of rationale into the group.
"There are too many unanswerable questions Piccolo, which gives us reasonable doubt. I mean, the bullet wounds. Obviously, if Seventeen wasn't the killer, there was another shooter inside the lake. And if Seventeen is 'good' now, then he would have noticed the other killer or even had a suspicion. You know how his senses are enhanced. Also the fact that Videl saw the two R's doesn't help his cause either. And, most importantly, the scientific proof. Seventeen told me that he saw a whole bunch of red, stating that because of the blood he was able to find the corpse at the bottom of the lake. He mentioned that the visibility was really poor, hence him having difficulty locating the guy. He said that his enhanced vision didn't help him much. What I want to know is, how did he see the blood? Scientifically, we know, or at least I know, that the color red cannot be seen after a depth of ten to fifteen feet in water. He was at the bottom of the lake, which is significantly deeper."*
"You're right Gohan, I can attest to the fact that he shouldn't have been able to see blood in that scenario." Bulma agreed, employing her remarkable scientific erudition.
"Ok, then it's established that Seventeen is the killer, or at least, he made up a bogus story to cover up for something that happened back at the harbor. But, if he indeed had taken leadership of the new coalition of thieves, then Piccolo's questions raise several valid points." Gohan was working on all four cylinders now, utilizing his knowledge and above-average intelligence to unwrap the enigma of Seventeen.
"What did you say about the person killed and the guy who's in jail for allegedly shooting him? They were both in the Mafia? And I don't think there is room for rival gangs here, because as you said they all merged into one." Bulma inquired, engrossing herself in this puzzle that had a lot riding on it. Namely, Videl's life.
"Yup, both in the Mafia. And word on the street is that these guys have integrated flawlessly. I mean, when you merge all these gangs there must be big time blood lost between them. Videl and I have encountered dozens of gang fights over the course of our crime fighting. But, suddenly, there were no more gang related fights. Yeah, there were petty squabbles between the 'lesser' wannabe gangs, but the big guns didn't have one altercation since the time Videl's copter crashed. It was definitely strange."
"Hmm…Boy, it doesn't make much sense. These gangs can't just be seamlessly incorporated into a bigger unit. They have what we call 'turf', and pride. Usually gangs are classified by ethnicity. How could it be that they are—a bunch of mendacious debauchers—working together? One wouldn't expect them to share."
"You're right Vegeta. What's the main reason here?" Gohan was genuinely befuddled now. Too many things had been discovered in this once small conundrum, which had now evolved into a gigantic puzzle with many pieces and even more loose ends.
"Unless…" Bulma trailed off, her serene eyes gazing at the ceiling in concentrated contemplation.
"Unless what woman?"
"Well, why do the most unlikely people team up?"
Gohan's eyes suddenly brightened, as if a light bulb had been turned on somewhere in his massive brain. Piccolo cocked his head to the side, also deliberating on Bulma's rhetorical question.
"A common foe."
"Who is their common foe?"
"Um, the government? Police?"
Bulma glared at him, and then trained her glower at the rest of the group. She didn't like being held down by people who couldn't deduce the obvious. Although Gohan was making remarkable headway, she couldn't believe he didn't get this part yet. She sighed, when it concerns him, Gohan can be amazingly naïve.
"Crime down 300% after Saiya-man hits the scene, Satan City Globe. Caped hero knocks out crime with own brand of humor, Satan City Tribune. This ring a bell?" Bulma had rattled off those newspaper headlines to illuminate the missing piece, much to the delight of Gohan.
"Oh yeah, me!"
"And Videl, since she's starting to team up with you now."
"Ok, this is good. They have consolidated because of Saiya-man. So, Videl was kidnapped to lure me?" Piccolo silently praised his former student, for the astonishingly tight control he kept over his emotions. Piccolo knew first hand what can happen if Gohan had let his emotions rebel against his rational side. He was cognizant of the fact that he cared deeply for Videl, even more so than anybody else he has ever cared for, so to maintain this sort of calm in his demeanor is an exemplary feat in of itself.
"Maybe. We'll have to wait for a ransom demand, or them contacting you and arranging a rendezvous point."
"Uh, no one, except a few, knows that I'm Saiya-man, Bulma. How would they contact me?"
Bulma heaved a sigh of frustration. Saiyans could be really thickheaded at the most inconvenient of times. "T.V silly!"
"Uhh, yeah."
Throughout this whole exchange, both Vegeta and Piccolo had remained silent. They were mentally tackling the scenario, trying to look at it with different perspectives to gain the most information from it.
"I think waiting around for some ransom demand is senile, woman!" Vegeta scowled, finally breaking his spell of reticence.
"Then what do you propose we do?!" Bulma screamed back at him, a vein comically bulging from a spot on her forehead as she glared at her mate.
"Finally, you suggest something worthwhile. I say the brat, the Namek, and I split up, scour the slums and gang-infested areas of Satan City and conduct some reconnaissance. Get valuable information, since our best bet is that the Mafia is behind the girl's kidnapping."
"Vegeta has made a good point. Also, I suggest that we leave the Android Seventeen question unanswered for now. Eighteen, if you are willing to help, I propose that you head over to Seventeen's place and see what you find there. That should shed some light on that matter." Piccolo stopped short, and looked at Gohan for final affirmation.
"Alright then, let's go!" Gohan raced out of the domed abode, powered up to super saiya-jin, and blasted off towards Satan City. Vegeta grunted, levitating from his spot on the couch and out the door, joining the Namek in the air as they blasted off behind Gohan, white auras emblazoning a luminous path in the black canopy around Earth.
"Chi-Chi, turn on the T.V and tune into the news channel."
Eighteen and sighed and glanced wearily towards her child, who was currently cuddled up on an isolated sofa with a warm blanket draped over her. "Chi-Chi, look after Marron for me please. I'm going to Seventeen's now and sorting out this mess."
"I'm going with you." Krillen stated from behind, his grim face leaving no room for argument.
Eighteen smiled, and together they left the small house after saying their final good-byes.
******************************
Hmm…Some unanticipated variables making themselves known. No matter, that was to be expected. Even I cannot compute the future. Ingenious of me to make this plan so flexible.
He was interrupted from his careful deliberation by the creaking of his gargantuan door, painfully rasping a pleading whine of protest. He looked up, seeing the maidservant halt at its entrance and knock quietly on its metallic surface. He nodded, and once his affirmation was given she quickly entered and gave him some sheets of paper riddled with numbers.
"How is the girl doing?" He asked, without even giving the slightest hint of acknowledgement to the servile woman.
"She is constrained in the dungeon cellar. Sir, I…I mean…You…She shouldn't be in there, its very unhygienic down there." The woman stuttered out to her stoic master, trembling violently in fear of his reproach.
"You suddenly have compassion for our guest?" He looked up at her in vague amusement, regarding her fully now. He sneered in pleasure at the dread his countenance induced into them. Yes, them. He cannot be classified with them. Those vile, contemptuous sheep blindly subservient. He was the exception. He was the wolf, not the sheep. Let them regard him as they may, that didn't phase him the slightest. Why should he consider their denigration on him? They were nothing. Pawns in his game. Marionettes being manipulated by the puppeteer, making them do as he wills, at his own caprice. This is what his aspiration is, and he will achieve it. He wasn't created to relapse into the monotony of farming. Farming? He, the epitome of perfect creation, a farmer? Did they think that he would be content with wasting his life away in some God forsaken field somewhere in the country? Did they believe that the ephemeral joys of family, of camaraderie, and solidarity would suppress him? They have done it too long. They nearly succeeded too, for he was thrown headlong into an eddy of colorful confusion. The colors mixing, changing, mutating and receding into oblivion. Phasing out, graying, darkening. He nearly lost sight of his goal, his purpose, and now nothing can sway him anymore. He was going to claim his rightful place and climb upon his perch, ruling these pathetic inferior humans with an iron hand of total supremacy. They will do his bidding, or taste his wrath. He was NOT a face in the background, enjoying a fleeting moment in the spotlight only to be superseded by another, and another, and another…
"It's…not…th…that, master."
"Then stop this babbling you subordinate ingrate, and be gone." She squeaked with fear and quickly swooped her head down in genuflect, then scrambled away into the sanctuary of the hallway. He smirked once more, and then picked up his thick book lying dormant on his table. The cover was briefly illuminated in the musty room, deprived of any real light. "The Prince".*
* Water acts like a selective filter. If you suspend a white light above the surface of water, most of the red and some of the orange is gone at the depth of ten feet. At 25 feet most of the orange is gone, and so on. Try it sometime, if you go SCUBA diving or something. I don't mean stab yourself silly 60 feet deep in water, because you won't see the blood and you won't think you're bleeding. Or at least, you'd think you've mutated into some horrible sea monster since the blood would appear greenish black. ;x
* Niccolo Machiavelli's "The Prince". A book where the theory and practice of power politics are elaborated from. It envisages; 1) seizure, maintenance and extension of absolute power by the nicely graduated use of guile, fraud, force, and terror; 2) control by the ruler of all avenues of communication, thus facilitating the deliberate molding of public opinion; 3) the employment for surveillance and fanatical activities of subordinates who can be disowned and liquidated by the ruler, who thus escapes the blame for their atrocities.
(A/N-The explanation of Machiavelli's doctrines were necessary for the readers to gauge Seventeen's motivation. Needless to say, I'm keeping this conundrum relatively ambiguous so the readers can form their own opinions. The use of clues and facts are from the 'mystery' genre, but since this fic isn't all about mystery I'm not changing its designation.
The brilliant Daughter of Chaos tackled this mystery genre extremely well in her fiction, "Mala in se" (Any thing she writes though, is a delight to read.), and I do believe that to construct a mystery is one of the hardest things to do in writing.
Speaking of Creativity, I've come across a story that has a premise I've never seen done before. It's pretty awesome, considering that the actual prose of the story connotes part of the plot. ShaggyDiz's "Parallel and Perpendicular." (He started another story, and it was commendable, although I believe it's put on a temporary hiatus.)
I end this chapter with an 'Ode to the Youth" of fanfiction.net.
Goku's Daughter- Although, upon initial analysis of her writing in her reviews, she doesn't seem very proficient in language manipulation. Those doubts are quelled however, when you actually read her fictional pieces. She displays phenomenal talent and uses a wide variety of devices in her literature. Her writing is good enough, but when you factor in a little something, namely her being in Grade Nine, I'd say it makes it something distinguished.
Fender08- "Where Do We Go From Here?" I've been following his writing for some time now. Here's the clincher. Seventh Grade. I'm aware that my key reader demographic for 'Tomber Amoureux' is predominantly in the upper echelon of articulation (;x), and when I mention an author who isn't even in high school, you'd probably discard the notion of reading his works as inane. Simply put; people this young don't have the necessary skills to actively captivate the more 'mature' audience (That and all the grammar/spelling errors). Well, this dude is the exception to the rule. Absolutely stunning for someone so young to write something so good, so stunning in fact, that I sat there for a while thinking if he's really serious. Haven't seen such a feat accomplished since the then-fifteen year old Sageseeker777 penned "Tamashii No Unmei".
I guess if the younger generation follows up with authors like these, then the vanguards of creativity haven't gone all mundane on us yet.
"Familiarity breeds contempt - and children."
-Mark Twain (1835 - 1910), Notebooks (1935)
