Authors Note: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews you sent me! I know Dende and Popo were horribly OOC, but everyone is going to be a 'little' whacked in this story, sorry! If I get too carried away, hit me over the head with a moose tail! Just so you know, I WILL PUT YOUR CHARACTERS IN MY STORY IF YOU WANT ME TO. I have been nagged about this many a time. If you want me to add your character, do the following:

Conditions for this to happen: You must say you want them in the story and sign your name to the mail to confirm it. You must put a FULL BIOGRAPHY OF YOUR CHARACTER, height weight, eye color, special abilities, race, EVERYTHING!

Limit one character per person. There are 5 openings for characters, 2 major. Do not post your character's bio in a review. Send it to me at SpaceWeasel_747@hotmail.com. I will NEVER abuse your character. All characters will be treated equally, except mine; of course, I abuse them at my will. NO INDESCENT CHARACTERS such as SLUTS, PIMPS, RACIST, AND OVERALL ASSHOLES. I will tell you if your character is in my story by E-mailing you. Another little thing, you may complain about how and where I put your character in the story, and if they suddenly disappear. Feel free to bitch all you want. I'll return the favor.

Piccolo flew among the eagles. The wind was providing a soothing breeze as the namek traveled slowly toward Satan City. It was a pleasant day. The sun was shining, nothing but blue skies could be seen for miles and miles around. One of those days where nothing could go wrong, where you could relax and enjoy life in all its splendor. Just like Valentines Day should be.

Piccolo approached Satan City. He could see the Tenkaichi Budoukai arena being repaired, compliments, Son Goten. As he soared over the city something occurred to him, he had no idea what the hell he was going to do. He stopped over Gohan's house, he could drop by for a visit, but then he would have to put up with Pan's unlimited supply of energy. "Heh, she's just like Gohan was when he was little." Piccolo sighed to himself as he continued his aimless drifting.

A few hours went by without Piccolo's notice. Lately he had been forming a bad habit of forgetting time, another bad side effect of age. He had drifted over the Javwea Desert. A stiff, hot gust of air slapped him in the face. Slowly he halted to a complete stop, sand scratched his eyes, burning, gritty, painful. Piccolo put up his arms to block the airborne particles of rusty red sand.

He looked down, nothing but endless dunes of rust colored sand and the occasional dead shrub. The winds died down, stripes of red dust floated to whence they came. Piccolo lowered his miniscule sand barrier and looked around once more. Nothing. The faint sound of machinery humming caught his sensitive ears. He flew higher into the sky. He could see the entire desert from where he hovered. Still nothing could bee seen but hundreds of sand dunes stacked one against the other. Never the less he pursued the mechanical sound; after all, there was nothing better to do.

Eventually he tracked the noise down to an area between two huge dunes, each the better part of one hundred feet; both had a straight drop down to the ground. In the middle of the small valley a single wilting Cholla cactus clung to dear life as its bristles dropped to the desert floor. Piccolo squatted down, sand poured in his cloth shoes, scorching his feet. With a few quick motions of his hand he brushed the sand away from the base of the cactus. A fiberglass plate had been laid around the plant. Piccolo arched a brow and continued brushing away mounds of sand. Several more plates of fiberglass had been set next to the cactus.

Out of curiosity Piccolo lifted one of the plates, a large black leather briefcase was buried underneath it. The case had two silver buckles that gleamed furiously in the bright sunlight. He ran his fingers over the smooth leather, it had been recently polished.

Piccolo snapped the buckles open, what was inside the briefcase astounded him. He inhaled sharply. A bead of cold sweat ran down his forehead and trickled down his nose. His hands began to tremble as he reached to touch the miniscule heap inside. The humming stopped

7.5 rested his head on a cold steel wall in his room. He had been abandoned there, again. Kiyoshi had lead Mr. Rodim into the 'special room' for the third time that day. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, nothing could be so interesting that it required to be looked at three times in fifteen minuets.

"This is boring." 7.5 stated to himself "If I wasn't so young they would let me out of my room once in awhile. Going out to do their little 'test' did not count as getting out."

7.5 banged his head against the wall in frustration. Why did he have to stay in a cramped room with no bed and a non-functioning toilet that was engulfed in stench thanks to the previous owner? He was smarter than those nitwits that took car of him, he knew it, and they knew it. He also knew they were going to put him to sleep. Sleeping. It was their word for lawful murder. After awhile everything was 'put to sleep', they never bothered to explain why, one day, creepers would just disappear into thin air; no one ever talked about it.

It was not fair. Some creepers half his age could wonder around with their labies. No, it was not fair, but that is the way it was with the nigens. "Stupid biped monkey men" 7.5 snorted indignantly.

"I'm one of their creepers aren't I? But the other creepers are relatively incompetent. That's why I can't go out. They are afraid of me! Ha! The little monkey men are afraid I'll hurt their precious little bodies!" 7.5 said this everyday; it was sort of a ritual to enhance his dull, utterly lethargic life.

7.5 flopped down on his stomach and toyed with a piece of gravel he found in room 304 A. He flicked the rock from one palm to another as he kicked his legs. "This is it" 7.5 said as he picked his tiny stone up and rolled onto his back ".this is the climax of my life. a rock"

The intercom cracked and hissed a flood of static before coming around "No toys in your room 7.5, you know that. Put the rock down, sweetie." A female voice said in a motherly tone.

7.5 shuddered. He absolutely hated being called anything but 7.5. The bastards did not even give him a name, just 7.5, a freaking number. Reluctantly he dropped the rock, it rolled halfway across the room into a drain. "There goes the major event of my life." 7.5 said as a defeated expression sneaked on to his face.

"Good boy" The lady said.

His matted, bloodstained hair fell into his eyes as it always did. With a half-hearted effort he attempted to blow it away; which only caused more hair to fall in his face. The cafeteria's alarm rang twice over the intercom. 7.5 pricked up his long ears. The techies, or lab people, had forgotten to switch the speakers off.

The muffled sound of footsteps could be heard among the cries of 'finally' and 'it's about time'. Soon the people were off to lunch, and 7.5 was alone, without anyone to watch him. He loved lunchtime the most. He never had to eat, so nobody would pay attention to him, it was the perfect time to have a little fun before the zombie techies came back.

7.5 got to his feat and wiped the dust off his bottom. He looked at the metal bar that went from wall to wall. It was at least seven feet in the air. The techies told him he would be able to reach the bar easily in a few years, he highly doubted it.

With great ardor 7.5 lunged for the bar. His hands barely clipped the cold metal before he crash-landed into the wall, making spider web cracks. Dopily, he staggered to his feet. His eyes flung open. He cracked the wall! He cracked the stainless steel wall! He listened closely to the intercom, just to make sure they did not see his little stunt. It was dead silent; not even the buzzing of the lights could be heard. 7.5 trotted to the other side of the room with his head held high. He took pride in his accomplishment.

He concentrated on the wall and focused his energy directly to the spot where the cracks originated. This was one of the techniques that Kiyoshi taught him. He was one of the few decent techies at The Agency, 7.5 thanked him for that. Without hesitation he took off running, gaining what speed he could, in a moment of fading glory he body slammed the wall with all his power. The entire room shook as chunks of steel crumbled to the ground making giant indentations in the floor.

An inferior hole was made by his effort. 7.5 stuck his hand through the gape, it barely fit. "Kami, I'm pathetic" he said in defeat and scuffed his feet on the steel floor, forming scratches with his three-clawed feet.

The ear-piercing creek of buckling steel caused 7.5 to curl himself into a fetal position. He grabbed his ears and cuffed them in his hands trying to keep his eardrums from exploding. There could be nothing worse than the grinding of steel to his acute ears. Damn the tetchiest for making with these big assed ears, damn them all to hell, or a three-hour marathon of 'Frasier' at the very least!

Steel, concrete, and drywall dwindled from the ceiling as if a bomb had exploded on it. 7.5 braced himself by the cracked wall. "Stupid ingest and their crappy ceilings." Was the last thought that passed through his mind before the wall collapsed, taking him with it.