*Author's Note* to Anonymous reviewer nicole_purple: not that I don't appreciate seeing my number of reviews ticking up, and not that I'm not glad you're enjoying the story, but please don't spam my review page with multiple copies of the same review. Thanks! :-)
Chapter 4: The Gears Grind Into Motion
It was a simple plan. A plan devised in a matter of minutes, set up during the course of a few hours, a plan capable of being executed in one evening.
Chichi was highly pleased with herself. And with her son-- it had, after all, been Gohan's idea of using Oolong that formed the crux of her strategy. Although she had already begun to be thoroughly annoyed with the pig.
"For the last time," she said, "You get him to drink it and then you don't have to *worry* that he'll actually want to fight you! That'll be the end! We drag him back to the gravity room, he wakes up in the morning-- probably convinced it was all a strange dream-- and he'll never put two and two together. He probably doesn't even know who you are!"
"He doesn't have to know who I am to kill me," Oolong sulked.
"That's why we have a back-up plan," Chichi said through clenched teeth.
"Yeah? What!"
"Me," said Gohan, nervously. "Well, I am stronger than him!" He went on defensively, at Oolong's skeptical look.
"Sure, kid," said the pig.
"If you're that worried, you can always just turn into a rock," said Chichi, "For all I care... and then, I'll kick you."
Oolong shuddered.
"Look, there's enough muscle relaxant in the red bottle to take down a blue whale-- or six," she went on. "With that much, he won't even have the muscle tone to focus a ki attack-- let along yell for help."
"How do you know it won't kill him, then?" Oolong said testily. "Not that I'd mind..."
"Dad had some whiplash after mom tried to make him learn to drive," Gohan said calmly. "This stuff is leftovers."
"Besides, if the worst happens, we can just get his stomach pumped," Chichi said. "It won't be pretty, but it should work."
Oolong threw up his arms. "All right, all right," he said. "Gimme the bra."
"You're going to wear it on the job?"
"No, pipsqueak," Oolong glared... up at Gohan (when had the boy gotten taller than him?): "I just want to carry it in my pocket..." his eyes glazed over, dreamily. "Ah... sweet Bulma..."
CLONG!
As Oolong reeled in the wake of a cast-iron frying pan, Chichi shook her head and sighed. She didn't care how useful his shapeshifting technique was; never, never again.
"Mom," Gohan said, "How can we be sure he'll drink it?"
"Because we know Vegeta," Chichi said simply, hoping what she said was indeed true; "he'll drink it."
Night fell over Mt. Paozu and Satan City; in a forest to the west, a turbaned creature pondered the turn his life was taking as a snoring baby tugged at his oversized green ears. On a tropical island to the South, an old man wondered what had happened to a particular magazine he was especially fond of (and, come to think of it, his houseguest along with it). And high above all of them, the god on the lookout watched over the darkening land.
In the garden behind Capsule corps, three co-conspirators skulked in the bushes, watching the lights in the house wink out.
"That'll be Trunks' bedroom," whispered Gohan.
"Maybe we should have you ride in on Kinto-un," Chichi wondered to Oolong. Oolong squinted at her, then lifted the silky purple bra from his pocket, as if it explained everything.
"Ah, right," Chichi muttered. "Pure of heart."
"Ssh, ma," Gohan whispered. "The light in main bedroom is going out."
A hush fell over the garden; no-one moved for several minutes.
"Mrs. Son," Oolong said, "Do you think they're... eh?"
"Shh," hissed Chichi, fiercely, turning away. How dare he... insinuate... in front of her son, a mere child? She watched the house for another moment in silence, then whispered without turning around, "Bulma's a morning person."
"Ohhhh...."
"Here he comes!" Gohan said, crouching down.
"Right on time," said Chichi.
The back door clicked behind the figure of Vegeta, wearing only the undersuit from a set of Saiyan armor, carrying a towel in his bulky left arm. Scowling under the security light over his door, he smacked at a mosquito that dared to assault his royal presence; then he moved, quickly and fiercely, towards the gravity room, and vanished into it.
"Chichi... I don't think I like this anymore..." muttered Oolong.
"Too late," she shrugged, and shoved him out into the open.
Oolong muffled a scream, glancing at the darkened windows of Capsule Corps as if they concealed sniper rifles, then quickly popped into the shape of Son Goku.
Chichi's heart missed a beat. Seeing someone transform their shape was startling enough, but much as she'd thought it wouldn't bother her, seeing the silhouette of her husband brought back feelings it would have been better to have left quiescent. She wanted to run to him; she could feel the touch of his firm hand against her cheek like a ghostly presence, warm and comforting, and she made herself stand still, trampling down her need to hold this man who stood before them. This was not Goku. He had not come back to her.
Then the figure turned, and it wasn't Goku anymore. Not that there was anything wrong with the face; no, even the dark of his irises was perfect. But he wore Oolong's face, and she had never seen Son Goku look like a coward.
Beside her, Gohan took a deep breath, as if he'd been released from a sudden terror. Belatedly, she turned to him, wondering what he had experienced, seeing this magical apparition in the twilight; but he only nodded curtly, smiling, although he seemed pale. Perhaps it was only the dim light.
Gathering herself together, she strode forward.
"Pull yourself up," she lectured. "You'll never pass for him. Smile. There."
Oolong smiled, clearly trying his best to look completely vapid.
"No, no," Gohan whispered, "Like this." And he demonstrated. Oolong copied him, pulling his eyes closer together in the progress, which almost made Chichi lose her dinner. When he was done, though, there was a carbon copy of the Son grin-- a little more Gohan than Goku, but---
"You'll pass," said Chichi, approvingly. Before retreating back into the cover of the bushes, she handed him the two glass bottles, and nodded toward the gravity room. Already bumps and kiai noises were emanating from its domed walls; every so often, the edges flashed gold, as if a raging thunderstorm were trapped inside. Grinning like a doomed idiot, Oolong stepped forward to meet his fate.
Chapter 4: The Gears Grind Into Motion
It was a simple plan. A plan devised in a matter of minutes, set up during the course of a few hours, a plan capable of being executed in one evening.
Chichi was highly pleased with herself. And with her son-- it had, after all, been Gohan's idea of using Oolong that formed the crux of her strategy. Although she had already begun to be thoroughly annoyed with the pig.
"For the last time," she said, "You get him to drink it and then you don't have to *worry* that he'll actually want to fight you! That'll be the end! We drag him back to the gravity room, he wakes up in the morning-- probably convinced it was all a strange dream-- and he'll never put two and two together. He probably doesn't even know who you are!"
"He doesn't have to know who I am to kill me," Oolong sulked.
"That's why we have a back-up plan," Chichi said through clenched teeth.
"Yeah? What!"
"Me," said Gohan, nervously. "Well, I am stronger than him!" He went on defensively, at Oolong's skeptical look.
"Sure, kid," said the pig.
"If you're that worried, you can always just turn into a rock," said Chichi, "For all I care... and then, I'll kick you."
Oolong shuddered.
"Look, there's enough muscle relaxant in the red bottle to take down a blue whale-- or six," she went on. "With that much, he won't even have the muscle tone to focus a ki attack-- let along yell for help."
"How do you know it won't kill him, then?" Oolong said testily. "Not that I'd mind..."
"Dad had some whiplash after mom tried to make him learn to drive," Gohan said calmly. "This stuff is leftovers."
"Besides, if the worst happens, we can just get his stomach pumped," Chichi said. "It won't be pretty, but it should work."
Oolong threw up his arms. "All right, all right," he said. "Gimme the bra."
"You're going to wear it on the job?"
"No, pipsqueak," Oolong glared... up at Gohan (when had the boy gotten taller than him?): "I just want to carry it in my pocket..." his eyes glazed over, dreamily. "Ah... sweet Bulma..."
CLONG!
As Oolong reeled in the wake of a cast-iron frying pan, Chichi shook her head and sighed. She didn't care how useful his shapeshifting technique was; never, never again.
"Mom," Gohan said, "How can we be sure he'll drink it?"
"Because we know Vegeta," Chichi said simply, hoping what she said was indeed true; "he'll drink it."
Night fell over Mt. Paozu and Satan City; in a forest to the west, a turbaned creature pondered the turn his life was taking as a snoring baby tugged at his oversized green ears. On a tropical island to the South, an old man wondered what had happened to a particular magazine he was especially fond of (and, come to think of it, his houseguest along with it). And high above all of them, the god on the lookout watched over the darkening land.
In the garden behind Capsule corps, three co-conspirators skulked in the bushes, watching the lights in the house wink out.
"That'll be Trunks' bedroom," whispered Gohan.
"Maybe we should have you ride in on Kinto-un," Chichi wondered to Oolong. Oolong squinted at her, then lifted the silky purple bra from his pocket, as if it explained everything.
"Ah, right," Chichi muttered. "Pure of heart."
"Ssh, ma," Gohan whispered. "The light in main bedroom is going out."
A hush fell over the garden; no-one moved for several minutes.
"Mrs. Son," Oolong said, "Do you think they're... eh?"
"Shh," hissed Chichi, fiercely, turning away. How dare he... insinuate... in front of her son, a mere child? She watched the house for another moment in silence, then whispered without turning around, "Bulma's a morning person."
"Ohhhh...."
"Here he comes!" Gohan said, crouching down.
"Right on time," said Chichi.
The back door clicked behind the figure of Vegeta, wearing only the undersuit from a set of Saiyan armor, carrying a towel in his bulky left arm. Scowling under the security light over his door, he smacked at a mosquito that dared to assault his royal presence; then he moved, quickly and fiercely, towards the gravity room, and vanished into it.
"Chichi... I don't think I like this anymore..." muttered Oolong.
"Too late," she shrugged, and shoved him out into the open.
Oolong muffled a scream, glancing at the darkened windows of Capsule Corps as if they concealed sniper rifles, then quickly popped into the shape of Son Goku.
Chichi's heart missed a beat. Seeing someone transform their shape was startling enough, but much as she'd thought it wouldn't bother her, seeing the silhouette of her husband brought back feelings it would have been better to have left quiescent. She wanted to run to him; she could feel the touch of his firm hand against her cheek like a ghostly presence, warm and comforting, and she made herself stand still, trampling down her need to hold this man who stood before them. This was not Goku. He had not come back to her.
Then the figure turned, and it wasn't Goku anymore. Not that there was anything wrong with the face; no, even the dark of his irises was perfect. But he wore Oolong's face, and she had never seen Son Goku look like a coward.
Beside her, Gohan took a deep breath, as if he'd been released from a sudden terror. Belatedly, she turned to him, wondering what he had experienced, seeing this magical apparition in the twilight; but he only nodded curtly, smiling, although he seemed pale. Perhaps it was only the dim light.
Gathering herself together, she strode forward.
"Pull yourself up," she lectured. "You'll never pass for him. Smile. There."
Oolong smiled, clearly trying his best to look completely vapid.
"No, no," Gohan whispered, "Like this." And he demonstrated. Oolong copied him, pulling his eyes closer together in the progress, which almost made Chichi lose her dinner. When he was done, though, there was a carbon copy of the Son grin-- a little more Gohan than Goku, but---
"You'll pass," said Chichi, approvingly. Before retreating back into the cover of the bushes, she handed him the two glass bottles, and nodded toward the gravity room. Already bumps and kiai noises were emanating from its domed walls; every so often, the edges flashed gold, as if a raging thunderstorm were trapped inside. Grinning like a doomed idiot, Oolong stepped forward to meet his fate.