Disclaimer: Well, no I don't own Dragonball Z. But I damn well intend on
kidnapping 17's voice actors (either Japanese or American is fine with me)
and tying him/them up and making him/them speak in 17's voice. ^_^ I'd feed
him/them well.
Italics - /word(s)/ WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO MAKE REAL ITALICS INSTEAD OF THIS CHEAP-ASSED SLASH BIT?
~~
The blood from my nose hadn't entirely stopped dripping when I came back out of the bedroom. The 'dryer' ended up being a string of fishing wire strung over the bathtub.
I made no move to help Tori clean up the remains of the oatmeal, and instead held Kleenex to my nose while watching her with a less-than- repentant expression.
"There. /Done/," I heard her murmur to herself as she threw the last of the paper towels she used to wipe up the oatmeal into the wicker trashbasket. She looked up at me, opened her mouth to say something but shut it again.
My openly angry glare got a trite response.
"Look, you cock-sucking fucker, if you do not get your ass to work right now," she snarled, and cut herself off. She deliberately slowed herself down to keep from killing something. Probably me. "You know, I've been more than nice. Would /please/ get you to go? Please Paul, would you get off your lazy ass and go to work?"
Oh, joy. If that was nice, I'd hate to see bitchy.
"I really feel sick," I snarled in a surly tone. And I wasn't lying, either. It was /nausea/, something else new that I didn't particularly care for. I was /nauseated/ about a little blood?
She glared at me, obviously not believing me.
"Oh so we're faking sick again!" she said, and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, fine. I give up. Spend the day at home, hell, call up the park and quit for all I care but whatever you do, /get out of this goddamn apartment/!!!"
Tori's head snapped around and I flinched when some idiot outside the door pounded on it, jarring us.
"/Keep it quiet in there! Other people live here 'ya know/!!"
"...You know, you just contradicted yourself," I sneered smugly.
She stopped for a moment, realised that I was right, and flipped me the bird. She then whirled around, marched back into the bedroom, and slammed the door.
The shelf to the left of the door collapsed.
Bitch.
*
It was /cold/ outside, and this was entirely new to me. For the most part. While I had sometimes sensed that it was cold, I had never really felt it. At any rate it wasn't as bad as being hungry like I was.
The streets were mostly deserted, I knew very well that there were very few humans left on the planet. The last census put it somewhere in the mid tens-of-thousands, but I wasn't too sure. It wasn't like I cared, so why would I know?
This was the area of town my sister would have liked. It was the part of town where all of the chic clothing stores were lined up in pristine, obviously reconstructed, rows.
That meant I'd been here before - as myself - but for the life of me my memory had taken a hike along with my speed, strength, and, well, everything that set me apart from the parasites infecting this planet. It was probably the temperature but I was feeling sort of numb about that.
In the near distance I could see what I assumed was the 'park' Tori wouldn't shut up about. A deserted looking ferris wheel jutted into the sky and I could see a roller coaster between the buildings that hadn't been rebuilt yet.
"Hey, Paul!!"
I turned when the voice yelled at me twice. It was a rather oversized woman standing in the doorway of a little cornerstore, smoking a cigarette. She was grinning at me. I merely stared back at her. After Tori, I was a little burnt out on arguing.
"Playing hookey again? Tori didn't try to kill you, did she?" the woman said. "Sure as hell looks like it, your face is covered in blood." She took a drag of her cigarette.
I didn't respond, even though I knew the woman was waiting for it. I merely crossed my arms.
The woman laughed suddenly. "Well, come inside. It's cold out there."
She was right, it /was/ warmer in the store. The racks were filled with magazines of everything from collectible toy plushes to naked women. Some of them were years old.
"Ain't seen either of you in a long while," the woman said, grinding the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray. "What you two been up to?"
I wasn't exactly sure why I was talking to this woman, except that I had nothing better to do. "Nothing much," I sneered quietly. I hated being asked questions.
The woman blinked at me but shook it off. "Look, boy, I may be old but I can still beat your ass just as surely as I could seven years ago, and you damn well best remember that," she said with a grin.
My glare only made her laugh. I seethed inside and swallowed down a retort.
"You two been doin' alright? I think you're skinnier than when I last saw you."
Indeed. I was slender in my real body, this one was almost gaunt. I shrugged.
"How's Tori?"
God, do I have to? "She's a bitch," I said evenly.
"That's what you said the last time I talked to you," the woman said. "She sick? Happy? Dead? Pregnant?"
That last word got my full attention and the woman knew it. "You're kidding, right?" I demanded. The /thought/ brought the nausea back full force. "How old is she?"
"Sixteen or seventeen, can't remember rightly," the woman said with a smile. "You're only 'bout three years older, son. It ain't unheard of."
"It sickens me," I snapped coldly.
The woman sighed. "Whatever, Paul. So you're skipping work again, huh?"
I nodded.
"Just didn't feel like going, huh?" she said. "Well, it's your call, but really, it'd make Tori happy and a hell of a lot easier to live with. She worries a lot."
"Not about me, right? Just the paycheck," I said dryly.
"No, she cares, it's just she's never had a lot of fun since she was about ten and her parents died. She went to live with her godmother but that wasn't much better than living on her own. Can't understand the idea that running off now and then is a good thing." The woman shrugged. "Plus she just hasn't gotten over her parent's deaths. Tori doesn't grieve well," she said as if it were a huge understatement.
"What the hell does th--do I--put up with her for?"
"Consolidation of funds. Whenever there are any from his half."
I turned suddenly, and the woman smiled brightly. "Hi, Tori!"
"Hey Francine," Tori said. Her yellow eyes looked faintly red at the edges. "He's on a role-playing stint where he thinks he's one of the androids. Ignore him when he talks in third person."
"You haven't been crying, have you?" I sneered.
She ignored me and swept into the rows of aisles, picking up things here and there.
"How've you been, Tori?" Francine asked and Tori's head popped up into view. She had a too-bright smile on.
"Fine," she said in a ringingly cheery voice. It sounded hollow to me. "Paul! I can't remember if you like the chicken ramen or the shrimp."
"/What/?" I snapped.
"What kind of ramen do you like I always forget!"
If there's one thing I can't stand is someone who puts on an act. The fact Tori was human made it worse. "That's your problem!" I snapped back at her. "Figure it out!"
Her head dissapeared. "Fine!" she snapped and then something that sounded suspiciously like 'asshole.'
"He likes the chicken ramen!" Francine said from behind my head.
"Thanks, Francine," Tori replied grudgingly.
It was almost more than I could stand. Somehow I stayed put until Tori was done shopping for whatever she thought she could find in this place, and paid for it.
I followed Tori out of the store, after a last good-bye to Francine, and watched her toss the three bags of groceries into one of the many compartments in the back of her truck. It was a big, white, dirty telephone truck, which was plastered with various bumper stickers.
"Where the hell did you pick up this piece of shit?" I asked. I thought I'd said it in a neutral voice. I thought wrong.
"You comin' home with me or are you gonna stay here or just what, Paul?" The insulted, biting tone was obvious.
"Thought you had a day off? Why aren't you sleeping?" I asked sarcastically.
"I don't /get/ days off Paul, and I never have, and I won't /get/ one until I die. Besides, it's one in the afternoon," she sneered quietly. "Climb in or don't, but the door locks at ten tonight."
I climbed up into the passenger seat and Tori went around and climbed in beside me. She turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the street.
She reached over and turned on the radio, blasting music into my ears. This continued for a good ten minutes before the music fell still and someone said, "/We apologize for the interruption in our usual programming, but it has just been reported that Devon, fifity-eight miles south of River City, has just been attacked by the androids. Citizens of Ri--/"
Tori turned off the radio again and muttered rather loudly, "/Damn/."
I sighed. Something vaguely entertaining and she turns it off.
"What?" Tori asked.
"/What/?" I replied.
"What was the sigh for?"
"Nothing," I snarled back at her. "Mind your own business."
*
An hour later, at the apartment, Tori was doing something in the kitchen and I was watching television. Sort of.
I was /trying/ to watch hockey, but no matter how much I played with the tin foil antennae, it just wouldn't get any better. "God damn ningen piece of crap..."
I stood up, figuring the television was all but lost. I wandered aimlessly out of the bedroom (the television was on a table across the room from the bed) and stuck my head in on Tori. "What the hell are you making? It smells terrible."
It didn't smell that bad but I was in a bad mood. "Get lost, Paul!"
I walked in, ignoring the indignant stare I got. I stuck my head over the pan. "It smells /awful/. Do you just suck at this or is it supposed to be that way?"
"Well would /you/ like to cook for tonight?" Tori stated, waving the stirring spoon in my face. "Because otherwise get the hell out of here. This kitchen's too small for two people."
I glanced over my shoulder insolently, and looked down into the pot. It was something nondescript. "What /is/ this?" I asked, looking disgusted.
"You've always eaten it before without complaint, now /out/!" Tori snapped, and grabbed my by the collar. She hauled me from the pot and shoved me out of the kitchen.
"Bitch," I snapped, glaring full-faced at Tori. It didn't surprise me anymore that a mere human could push me around, but it was still infuriating.
"Thank you," Tori replied sardonically. "Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Make yourself busy until then." Tori reached up into the cabinet, got a jar half full of red powder, looked inside and poured some in.
"What is /that/?" I asked, watching from the entrance.
"Paprika," Tori replied. "I'm going to need some more pretty soon, I think tomorrow I'll go into Devon and hope there's some stuff left."
"The television said it was decimated," I said. Devon had been flattened, I remembered that personally. What a fun day that had been.
Tori shrugged. "There's always /something/ left, and people move in like flies. That's how I got my truck."
It occurred to me that I was having a /civil conversation/ with Tori. Yet again I felt sick. Something was really going wrong with me.
"Right...just hurry up. I'm hungry," I muttered, and hurried back into the bedroom, disgusted with myself.
~~
Chapter 2 is...well, I don't know what to think about it. I think the mood is kind of different. But I like it anyway. This is not your usual fic, aware of that. I try to come up with original storylines because the usual ones get a little...well, old after the first 1,000 fics. Not that I don't enjoy them it's just that...mine suck in comparison to theirs...waahhh...
MY MOM THOUGHT 17 WAS A GIIIIIRLLLLL!!! *falls over and starts sobbing hysterically*
At any rate, do what you peeps do best and review!! Please don't tell me it sucks, and if you do, then tell me why. ^_^ 17 might be a little OOC, but wouldn't you be? I did try, though...
Over and out, from Zithy and Co. (co. meaning the 30lb maine coon kitty who is not present at this time)
Italics - /word(s)/ WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO MAKE REAL ITALICS INSTEAD OF THIS CHEAP-ASSED SLASH BIT?
~~
The blood from my nose hadn't entirely stopped dripping when I came back out of the bedroom. The 'dryer' ended up being a string of fishing wire strung over the bathtub.
I made no move to help Tori clean up the remains of the oatmeal, and instead held Kleenex to my nose while watching her with a less-than- repentant expression.
"There. /Done/," I heard her murmur to herself as she threw the last of the paper towels she used to wipe up the oatmeal into the wicker trashbasket. She looked up at me, opened her mouth to say something but shut it again.
My openly angry glare got a trite response.
"Look, you cock-sucking fucker, if you do not get your ass to work right now," she snarled, and cut herself off. She deliberately slowed herself down to keep from killing something. Probably me. "You know, I've been more than nice. Would /please/ get you to go? Please Paul, would you get off your lazy ass and go to work?"
Oh, joy. If that was nice, I'd hate to see bitchy.
"I really feel sick," I snarled in a surly tone. And I wasn't lying, either. It was /nausea/, something else new that I didn't particularly care for. I was /nauseated/ about a little blood?
She glared at me, obviously not believing me.
"Oh so we're faking sick again!" she said, and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, fine. I give up. Spend the day at home, hell, call up the park and quit for all I care but whatever you do, /get out of this goddamn apartment/!!!"
Tori's head snapped around and I flinched when some idiot outside the door pounded on it, jarring us.
"/Keep it quiet in there! Other people live here 'ya know/!!"
"...You know, you just contradicted yourself," I sneered smugly.
She stopped for a moment, realised that I was right, and flipped me the bird. She then whirled around, marched back into the bedroom, and slammed the door.
The shelf to the left of the door collapsed.
Bitch.
*
It was /cold/ outside, and this was entirely new to me. For the most part. While I had sometimes sensed that it was cold, I had never really felt it. At any rate it wasn't as bad as being hungry like I was.
The streets were mostly deserted, I knew very well that there were very few humans left on the planet. The last census put it somewhere in the mid tens-of-thousands, but I wasn't too sure. It wasn't like I cared, so why would I know?
This was the area of town my sister would have liked. It was the part of town where all of the chic clothing stores were lined up in pristine, obviously reconstructed, rows.
That meant I'd been here before - as myself - but for the life of me my memory had taken a hike along with my speed, strength, and, well, everything that set me apart from the parasites infecting this planet. It was probably the temperature but I was feeling sort of numb about that.
In the near distance I could see what I assumed was the 'park' Tori wouldn't shut up about. A deserted looking ferris wheel jutted into the sky and I could see a roller coaster between the buildings that hadn't been rebuilt yet.
"Hey, Paul!!"
I turned when the voice yelled at me twice. It was a rather oversized woman standing in the doorway of a little cornerstore, smoking a cigarette. She was grinning at me. I merely stared back at her. After Tori, I was a little burnt out on arguing.
"Playing hookey again? Tori didn't try to kill you, did she?" the woman said. "Sure as hell looks like it, your face is covered in blood." She took a drag of her cigarette.
I didn't respond, even though I knew the woman was waiting for it. I merely crossed my arms.
The woman laughed suddenly. "Well, come inside. It's cold out there."
She was right, it /was/ warmer in the store. The racks were filled with magazines of everything from collectible toy plushes to naked women. Some of them were years old.
"Ain't seen either of you in a long while," the woman said, grinding the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray. "What you two been up to?"
I wasn't exactly sure why I was talking to this woman, except that I had nothing better to do. "Nothing much," I sneered quietly. I hated being asked questions.
The woman blinked at me but shook it off. "Look, boy, I may be old but I can still beat your ass just as surely as I could seven years ago, and you damn well best remember that," she said with a grin.
My glare only made her laugh. I seethed inside and swallowed down a retort.
"You two been doin' alright? I think you're skinnier than when I last saw you."
Indeed. I was slender in my real body, this one was almost gaunt. I shrugged.
"How's Tori?"
God, do I have to? "She's a bitch," I said evenly.
"That's what you said the last time I talked to you," the woman said. "She sick? Happy? Dead? Pregnant?"
That last word got my full attention and the woman knew it. "You're kidding, right?" I demanded. The /thought/ brought the nausea back full force. "How old is she?"
"Sixteen or seventeen, can't remember rightly," the woman said with a smile. "You're only 'bout three years older, son. It ain't unheard of."
"It sickens me," I snapped coldly.
The woman sighed. "Whatever, Paul. So you're skipping work again, huh?"
I nodded.
"Just didn't feel like going, huh?" she said. "Well, it's your call, but really, it'd make Tori happy and a hell of a lot easier to live with. She worries a lot."
"Not about me, right? Just the paycheck," I said dryly.
"No, she cares, it's just she's never had a lot of fun since she was about ten and her parents died. She went to live with her godmother but that wasn't much better than living on her own. Can't understand the idea that running off now and then is a good thing." The woman shrugged. "Plus she just hasn't gotten over her parent's deaths. Tori doesn't grieve well," she said as if it were a huge understatement.
"What the hell does th--do I--put up with her for?"
"Consolidation of funds. Whenever there are any from his half."
I turned suddenly, and the woman smiled brightly. "Hi, Tori!"
"Hey Francine," Tori said. Her yellow eyes looked faintly red at the edges. "He's on a role-playing stint where he thinks he's one of the androids. Ignore him when he talks in third person."
"You haven't been crying, have you?" I sneered.
She ignored me and swept into the rows of aisles, picking up things here and there.
"How've you been, Tori?" Francine asked and Tori's head popped up into view. She had a too-bright smile on.
"Fine," she said in a ringingly cheery voice. It sounded hollow to me. "Paul! I can't remember if you like the chicken ramen or the shrimp."
"/What/?" I snapped.
"What kind of ramen do you like I always forget!"
If there's one thing I can't stand is someone who puts on an act. The fact Tori was human made it worse. "That's your problem!" I snapped back at her. "Figure it out!"
Her head dissapeared. "Fine!" she snapped and then something that sounded suspiciously like 'asshole.'
"He likes the chicken ramen!" Francine said from behind my head.
"Thanks, Francine," Tori replied grudgingly.
It was almost more than I could stand. Somehow I stayed put until Tori was done shopping for whatever she thought she could find in this place, and paid for it.
I followed Tori out of the store, after a last good-bye to Francine, and watched her toss the three bags of groceries into one of the many compartments in the back of her truck. It was a big, white, dirty telephone truck, which was plastered with various bumper stickers.
"Where the hell did you pick up this piece of shit?" I asked. I thought I'd said it in a neutral voice. I thought wrong.
"You comin' home with me or are you gonna stay here or just what, Paul?" The insulted, biting tone was obvious.
"Thought you had a day off? Why aren't you sleeping?" I asked sarcastically.
"I don't /get/ days off Paul, and I never have, and I won't /get/ one until I die. Besides, it's one in the afternoon," she sneered quietly. "Climb in or don't, but the door locks at ten tonight."
I climbed up into the passenger seat and Tori went around and climbed in beside me. She turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the street.
She reached over and turned on the radio, blasting music into my ears. This continued for a good ten minutes before the music fell still and someone said, "/We apologize for the interruption in our usual programming, but it has just been reported that Devon, fifity-eight miles south of River City, has just been attacked by the androids. Citizens of Ri--/"
Tori turned off the radio again and muttered rather loudly, "/Damn/."
I sighed. Something vaguely entertaining and she turns it off.
"What?" Tori asked.
"/What/?" I replied.
"What was the sigh for?"
"Nothing," I snarled back at her. "Mind your own business."
*
An hour later, at the apartment, Tori was doing something in the kitchen and I was watching television. Sort of.
I was /trying/ to watch hockey, but no matter how much I played with the tin foil antennae, it just wouldn't get any better. "God damn ningen piece of crap..."
I stood up, figuring the television was all but lost. I wandered aimlessly out of the bedroom (the television was on a table across the room from the bed) and stuck my head in on Tori. "What the hell are you making? It smells terrible."
It didn't smell that bad but I was in a bad mood. "Get lost, Paul!"
I walked in, ignoring the indignant stare I got. I stuck my head over the pan. "It smells /awful/. Do you just suck at this or is it supposed to be that way?"
"Well would /you/ like to cook for tonight?" Tori stated, waving the stirring spoon in my face. "Because otherwise get the hell out of here. This kitchen's too small for two people."
I glanced over my shoulder insolently, and looked down into the pot. It was something nondescript. "What /is/ this?" I asked, looking disgusted.
"You've always eaten it before without complaint, now /out/!" Tori snapped, and grabbed my by the collar. She hauled me from the pot and shoved me out of the kitchen.
"Bitch," I snapped, glaring full-faced at Tori. It didn't surprise me anymore that a mere human could push me around, but it was still infuriating.
"Thank you," Tori replied sardonically. "Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Make yourself busy until then." Tori reached up into the cabinet, got a jar half full of red powder, looked inside and poured some in.
"What is /that/?" I asked, watching from the entrance.
"Paprika," Tori replied. "I'm going to need some more pretty soon, I think tomorrow I'll go into Devon and hope there's some stuff left."
"The television said it was decimated," I said. Devon had been flattened, I remembered that personally. What a fun day that had been.
Tori shrugged. "There's always /something/ left, and people move in like flies. That's how I got my truck."
It occurred to me that I was having a /civil conversation/ with Tori. Yet again I felt sick. Something was really going wrong with me.
"Right...just hurry up. I'm hungry," I muttered, and hurried back into the bedroom, disgusted with myself.
~~
Chapter 2 is...well, I don't know what to think about it. I think the mood is kind of different. But I like it anyway. This is not your usual fic, aware of that. I try to come up with original storylines because the usual ones get a little...well, old after the first 1,000 fics. Not that I don't enjoy them it's just that...mine suck in comparison to theirs...waahhh...
MY MOM THOUGHT 17 WAS A GIIIIIRLLLLL!!! *falls over and starts sobbing hysterically*
At any rate, do what you peeps do best and review!! Please don't tell me it sucks, and if you do, then tell me why. ^_^ 17 might be a little OOC, but wouldn't you be? I did try, though...
Over and out, from Zithy and Co. (co. meaning the 30lb maine coon kitty who is not present at this time)