*Dear Lawyers: The characters in the following story (and all preceding and subsequent chapters) are used without permission. This story may not be used for profit, and will be removed immediately upon complaint from the owners of the characters and settings used therein.* (Whew-- hope that's enough to keep me from getting sued.)
Chapter 2: Scheming Scoundrels
When the two new partners in crime closed the kitchen door behind them, they were regaled with the angry cries of Goten, left alone to awaken from his afternoon nap. Slapping herself on the forehead, Chichi ran to retrieve him from the crib. He would be ferociously hungry.
"Gohan!" she called. "Do we have any bananas?" As she patted the baby's back, she heard Gohan rummaging through the kitchen for a banana and a fork to mash it with. Goten was just beginning on solid foods. She lifted a hand to her breast in relief. Son genes could be...painful, sometimes. In so, so many ways.
He was ready with the pale mash when she set Goten in the highchair, and began to feed his little brother, brightening slightly as he did so. At times like this, she almost began to feel there was hope for their little family.
"Ah!" proclaimed Goten, and pushed banana into the spiny fuzz that passed for his hair. Chichi ignored him.
"Now, Gohan," she said, "Time to use that beautiful brain we've been developing. Tell me, what is a plan?"
"Ahhh..." Gohan trailed off, absentmindedly peeling a banana for himself--
Monkeys.
--"Well," he said, "I guess... something convoluted, with a bunch of parts that work together to accomplish... something else?"
"Wrong!" Chichi proclaimed. She furrowed her brows, and stroked her chin with her hand. How to explain it...
"Ma," cut in Gohan, nervously, "You look... sort of evil..."
"Quiet," she said.
"Ma!" Goten concurred.
"A plan," Chichi said, as if she'd never been interrupted, "Is best kept as simple as possible. What makes it a plan is having a strategy capable of adapting itself to any contingency that may arise; in essense, acting as if the worst will always happen. And getting away with it. This is the secret of true planning."
"Wow..." Gohan had dropped the spoon. In the chair, forgotten, Goten began to complain.
Chichi stood up, beginning to pace. This was getting good, even for her devious mind. "First, what do we know about our target? What are his assets?"
"Insane amounts of raw power, and willingness to use it in a haphazard fashion." Gohan was getting into this, she could tell! The excitement in his voice rose. "He can sense enemies coming, at least powerful, organic enemies. He's suspicious and intelligent. He lives in a corporation that's practically a fortress, and is surrounded by geniuses..." Gohan paused. "Wow, he really does have a good setup there... I wonder why he hasn't taken over the world yet..."
"Weaknesses?" Chichi asked, smirking a little.
Gohan frowned. "Ehh... he's a little overconfident."
Chichi concealed her mouth behind her hand, discreetly.
"And... not many people like him?" Gohan looked up, anxious. "We could probably get a lot of people to help us out, but they might not be discreet about it... are we really going to do this?"
"Dear," Chichi said, "What ELSE do we know about Vegeta?"
"Well, that he's still obsessed with beating Dad, I guess." Gohan shrugged, then suddenly his eyes opened wide. "Ahhh... we can use that! I have an idea!" He slumped down briefly, deep in thought, then grabbed the pencil abandoned by the differential analysis textbook, and began scrawling madly in the margins.
Chichi's eyes welled with pride. Her boy was learning. Then suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. He was also flushed, eyes sparkling-- more animated than she'd seen him in weeks. Her own, personal plan, her master plan-- it was working!
It was at this moment that Goten wailed, in true distress-- "An an an an!" he sobbed, pointing at the unobtainable manna on the table; then, "Mmph!" as Gohan stuffed his mouth with the spoon.
"If this plan ever takes off, someone's going to have to feed him," he said.
"What d'you mean? I'll just call Bul...ahh." Chichi sat down. "I see your point," she conceded. For some reason, here was one contingency she hadn't even begun to think about-- she'd been focused so much on worry for one son, the other had nearly gotten lost on the way! "My father, I suppose," she said, frowning. It would be far from ideal. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to find Ox-King... like he disappeared from the face of the Earth... and he wasn't the world's most responsible person.
"I have a better idea," said Gohan.
Confused, Chichi turned-- then realization sank in like a ton of bricks. "Oh, Gohan. Gohan, no, no..."
Her son was smiling. "Mom, he'll be fine!" He closed his eyes; rarely had she seen him relax so utterly, as if he were held in the arms of a benevolent god. "I have the utmost trust in his judgement."
Three hundred miles away, under a heavy turban, a thick brow twitched nearly imperceptibly, as if responding to some private, internal stimulus. The brow's owner half opened his eyes, as if hearing words in a dream--
"...no, no," he muttered, "Gohan--"
Suddenly the eyes flew open, enraged. "No!" snarled Piccolo, breaking out of the subconscious meditative link with his former student. "Gohan!!" He cried, throwing his arms wide: "Why do I always get stuck with the babysitting??"
Chapter 2: Scheming Scoundrels
When the two new partners in crime closed the kitchen door behind them, they were regaled with the angry cries of Goten, left alone to awaken from his afternoon nap. Slapping herself on the forehead, Chichi ran to retrieve him from the crib. He would be ferociously hungry.
"Gohan!" she called. "Do we have any bananas?" As she patted the baby's back, she heard Gohan rummaging through the kitchen for a banana and a fork to mash it with. Goten was just beginning on solid foods. She lifted a hand to her breast in relief. Son genes could be...painful, sometimes. In so, so many ways.
He was ready with the pale mash when she set Goten in the highchair, and began to feed his little brother, brightening slightly as he did so. At times like this, she almost began to feel there was hope for their little family.
"Ah!" proclaimed Goten, and pushed banana into the spiny fuzz that passed for his hair. Chichi ignored him.
"Now, Gohan," she said, "Time to use that beautiful brain we've been developing. Tell me, what is a plan?"
"Ahhh..." Gohan trailed off, absentmindedly peeling a banana for himself--
Monkeys.
--"Well," he said, "I guess... something convoluted, with a bunch of parts that work together to accomplish... something else?"
"Wrong!" Chichi proclaimed. She furrowed her brows, and stroked her chin with her hand. How to explain it...
"Ma," cut in Gohan, nervously, "You look... sort of evil..."
"Quiet," she said.
"Ma!" Goten concurred.
"A plan," Chichi said, as if she'd never been interrupted, "Is best kept as simple as possible. What makes it a plan is having a strategy capable of adapting itself to any contingency that may arise; in essense, acting as if the worst will always happen. And getting away with it. This is the secret of true planning."
"Wow..." Gohan had dropped the spoon. In the chair, forgotten, Goten began to complain.
Chichi stood up, beginning to pace. This was getting good, even for her devious mind. "First, what do we know about our target? What are his assets?"
"Insane amounts of raw power, and willingness to use it in a haphazard fashion." Gohan was getting into this, she could tell! The excitement in his voice rose. "He can sense enemies coming, at least powerful, organic enemies. He's suspicious and intelligent. He lives in a corporation that's practically a fortress, and is surrounded by geniuses..." Gohan paused. "Wow, he really does have a good setup there... I wonder why he hasn't taken over the world yet..."
"Weaknesses?" Chichi asked, smirking a little.
Gohan frowned. "Ehh... he's a little overconfident."
Chichi concealed her mouth behind her hand, discreetly.
"And... not many people like him?" Gohan looked up, anxious. "We could probably get a lot of people to help us out, but they might not be discreet about it... are we really going to do this?"
"Dear," Chichi said, "What ELSE do we know about Vegeta?"
"Well, that he's still obsessed with beating Dad, I guess." Gohan shrugged, then suddenly his eyes opened wide. "Ahhh... we can use that! I have an idea!" He slumped down briefly, deep in thought, then grabbed the pencil abandoned by the differential analysis textbook, and began scrawling madly in the margins.
Chichi's eyes welled with pride. Her boy was learning. Then suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. He was also flushed, eyes sparkling-- more animated than she'd seen him in weeks. Her own, personal plan, her master plan-- it was working!
It was at this moment that Goten wailed, in true distress-- "An an an an!" he sobbed, pointing at the unobtainable manna on the table; then, "Mmph!" as Gohan stuffed his mouth with the spoon.
"If this plan ever takes off, someone's going to have to feed him," he said.
"What d'you mean? I'll just call Bul...ahh." Chichi sat down. "I see your point," she conceded. For some reason, here was one contingency she hadn't even begun to think about-- she'd been focused so much on worry for one son, the other had nearly gotten lost on the way! "My father, I suppose," she said, frowning. It would be far from ideal. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to find Ox-King... like he disappeared from the face of the Earth... and he wasn't the world's most responsible person.
"I have a better idea," said Gohan.
Confused, Chichi turned-- then realization sank in like a ton of bricks. "Oh, Gohan. Gohan, no, no..."
Her son was smiling. "Mom, he'll be fine!" He closed his eyes; rarely had she seen him relax so utterly, as if he were held in the arms of a benevolent god. "I have the utmost trust in his judgement."
Three hundred miles away, under a heavy turban, a thick brow twitched nearly imperceptibly, as if responding to some private, internal stimulus. The brow's owner half opened his eyes, as if hearing words in a dream--
"...no, no," he muttered, "Gohan--"
Suddenly the eyes flew open, enraged. "No!" snarled Piccolo, breaking out of the subconscious meditative link with his former student. "Gohan!!" He cried, throwing his arms wide: "Why do I always get stuck with the babysitting??"