Certainly been a while since I wrote the first chapter. For some reason I couldn't finish this one but hopefully now I'll be back on the right track.
Knight's Shadow and SaiyanLover, thanks for the reviews. My first two ever, for my first Fan-Fic! I've had this idea for a while, stewing in my head. I owe it to DoraMouse, a great writer who rekindled my love of minor DBZ characters. I also 'borrowed' Ranchi and Kushami from DoraMouse and give full credit, not my own invention.
Along the long broken highway, a hover car sent dust flying in streamers behind it as it cut through the darkness of a long abandoned road. It was, if the wristwatch attached to Lunch was reliable, around 3 am in the morning, which meant that she had been going for well over 5 hours. The car was tougher than she had given it credit for; a steady 50 mph had seen her out of the city and close, according to her fuzzy memory, to the city holding Capsule Corp. The name, though probably something simple like South or North City, was lost to her. Lots of things were becoming lost to her lately, it was getting worse the further away she got. And it was causing bigger problems than memory lapses.
The hands that gripped the wheel of the car were shaking slightly despite a reasonably smooth ride, for reasons she could all too easily explain she kept feeling the urge to change to a faster gear and step down hard on the accelerator. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't, at the same time, have to deal with the urge to change down to a slower gear and relax. They weren't saying anything exactly, but she could feel the two consciousnesses stirring in the back of her head.
While she was more like the more hostile Kushami in some respects, she was more of a mix than many of her friends would suspect. The blonde hair and almost constant glare was just a result of the aggressive personality's obvious superior strength, it had maintained a surface presence in her. However her passive, Ranchi, side worked more subtly. She didn't shout as much any more and shooting was no longer the solution to every problem. She considered what others thought and actually tried to accommodate them, occasionally.
This was who Lunch was now, a combination of the qualities of two different people. Whether she had been this way as a child was uncertain, those were just more memories buried in the past. Everything was so hazy that she could have been anyone or anything; she had given up thinking about it years ago. To go back to being two people, separate, would mean her death. She couldn't decide whether that would be a good or bad thing.
Reaching to the passenger seat beside her she idly brushed the boy's purple hair and gave him a quick glance. It was strange really; she would have expected the child of Goku to at least bare a passing resemblance to him. This boy's features, while innocent in sleep, didn't seem to have the naivety that she could remember in Goku's smile. Her lips twitched briefly as she leaned back, even in memory his smile was infectious. The boy though, his features were softer. Under the dirt and scratches she could see something very different from Goku, in fact the only person she could think of that looked anything like the child was Bul-
Out of the dark and into the beams shooting from the headlights of the car, a coyote froze on the road and turned a maddened eye from the freshly killed corpse of a rabbit and onto the car. It hesitated, caught between fear and hunger, which meant that Lunch had no choice but to yank hard on the wheel and send the hover-car skimming over the rocky barren ground. Seconds later she was back on the road, cursing all fauna in general, and completely oblivious to the train of thought that had just been derailed.
["Listen, if you don't come out of the house pretty damn soon you wont live long enough to regret it!"
Leaning casually against the brick wall, relaxing in the heat that was beating down on her, Lunch adjusted her grip on the double barrel shotgun held in her hand and clicked her tongue with irritation. It was the first real sign of human life she had met since emerging from the forest, a small village that had appeared dead up until she had noticed a head peaking through the door of one of the houses.
That house was the one she had her firearm trained on at that very moment, gaze moving slowly from the flaking paint of the door to the cracked and dirt encrusted windows. To the untrained observer it appeared abandoned but years of living with Choutzu and..., well something had rubbed off. She had noticed that it seemed by far the worst place in the town, in fact the two wooden steps leading up to the porch looked as if they had been broken by hand. It made a crude kind of sense, if your house looked in terrible disrepair why would the Android's bother destroying it? Or any other 'survivors' bother looting it..
"Its just me, one little 'ole girl. What you scared of?"
Her eyes picked out the bullet holes that had turned the porch bench to Swiss cheese, a familiar yet still uncomfortable feeling stirring inside of her.
"About the bench," she began, moving from experiencing guilt to curing it in one giant step, "I'm sure it can be repaired.."
Just about then she felt the sudden cold of metal on the back of her neck, contrasting with the sudden brush of warm air as a gruff voice muttered behind her:
"But you, little girl, can not"]
Lunch rubbed her eyes fruitlessly, adjusting her grip so she could lean back against the reassuringly hard seat. In some far off way she knew that it was reckless to keep driving in her exhausted state. She was putting herself in danger, putting the boy in danger, putting the Plan in danger. However in the distance the city was growing larger and larger, a dark collection of shapes and pinpricks of light that advertised civilisation. She was too tired to make a sarcastic comment on advertising where you were living at a time like this.
Her whole mind, what was left of it, was focused on getting to Capsule Corp. For, some time between the coyote and spotting the city, she had realised that in Capsule Corp was one of the smiles she had lost. Flirtatious, superior and proud for the most part, but it was a smile from Lunch's past. A piece of her that she had thought gone; a piece that she wanted it back..
If she had one smile, just one, then she knew she could hang on. It would be her anchor, she could sort out the Plan and everything could just go away afterwards for all she cared. This wasn't about saving the world; this was revenge pure and simple.
"Hell has no fury.."
"Like a woman scorned.." mumbled a groggy voice from beside her.
Still cursed with a lot of the impulsiveness of one of her previous selves, Lunch jerked around at the sound of the voice to see the purple haired boy lean up and rub his eyes. Once he had cleared his vision he studied his surroundings, his physical condition and finally Lunch herself.
One fact burned into Lunch's mind in that moment; no matter how innocent the child seemed he was a warrior. His gaze didn't just take in her features; it sized her up from the inside out. While the other fighters she had met in her time had been subtler, it amounted to the same sort of thing. He took into account what danger she could pose and, this was the most worrying thing, then relaxed back into the chair.
As if she couldn't do a thing to him.
This was the boy she was trying to protect?
[The shotgun danced off the side of the wall she had been leaning against, rocking upwards to the extent that when the but hit the ground the gun appeared to point upwards. It swayed for a split second, and then gravity wrapped her fingers around it and bore it to the ground.
"Don't make any sudden movements, keep you're right hand up in the air. Now you're going to use your left hand to drop any weapons you might have on your person and if you're thinking that I've neither the guts nor the brains to pull the trigger, you're sorely mistaken."
Though she rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, Lunch did as she was told. After all, she thought as she reached behind the cover of her jacket and concentrated, the old coot had enough brains to sneak up on me.
She lifted up the handgun so he could see it, released it without a murmur and heard the soft thump as it landed beside the shotgun.
"Any more requests?"
"The jacket, if you please."
She wouldn't have been Lunch if she hadn't said something.
"My, my, the old rural stories really are-"
The gun in the old man's hands caught her in the back of the neck, closing her mouth with a snap.
"Less chatter, more obedience." His tone didn't seem to be wavering with fear or quaking with desire, the gravelly tones that were emanating from behind her were steady and calm. Calmer than most who came to pointing guns at people. It came to the point where Lunch was willing to give the old man a little respect.
She eased one arm out of the jacket, dropping the arm to her side as limply as her jacket.
"I think it'd be easier if you kept your hands up."
The arm bobbed up reluctantly, the old man wasn't slow.
"Now the other arm, if you please.."
The jacket fell away from her arm and landed softly on the grassy turf. As the last of the fabric settled down, Lunch came to a startling realization. She was out of ideas.]
"You'll be safe soon kid, bet you're hungry."
Non-committed shrug.
"Pretty cool how the old girl's held up this far, eh?"
Shrug.
Lunch glared out through the windshield. Insane people, she reasoned, shouldn't have to make conversation. The glimmers of dawn; the buildings that loomed over them; the empty feeling of the city, it was all adding to her unease. Mute super-children were the least of her worries; she had hoped to find a thriving metropolis surrounding Capsule Corp. Instead the place seemed to be a ghost town.
Ghosts – the dead rising upward – angry – betrayed – damned in failure – needing vengeance!
"Tien?" Lunch shook her head, but there were some bad thoughts that couldn't be dislodged so easily. When Tien had first died she had begged Choutzu, screamed at him to try and make a connection with Tien. The little one had been right to say no, there was no way Lunch could have even thought about getting over Tien if she could still talk to him. Not that she had gotten over him anyway.
"Did you say something?"
The boy was sitting up now, that same penetrating stare boring into her - this time holding some sympathy at least. Keep your sympathy boy - you don't have a clue.
"I.." Lunch almost faltered, but the walls guarding her had been compressed into the mental equivalent of diamonds after everything she had been through, "I was just wondering where everyone's gone."
"No one lives in the city apart from Mom," he gave her a skeptical look – the most emotion he had shown in the whole journey – as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and she's only there because no one can move all the equipment out of the house."
Had she heard him right, Chi-Chi Son (or Son Chi-Chi) was living at Capsule Corp now?
Of course Chi-Chi had been a warrior too, quite strong apparently. The boy couldn't have been more than a year or two old when Goku died; it wasn't too far of a stretch to believe that Chi-Chi had trained him.
"What about the lights I saw driving in here?"
"That was Mr. Satan's idea, he's the leader of what's left of the city people." The boy turned away from Lunch and leaned back against the car seat, looked right through the ceiling as if reading off a list. "Those buildings are filled to the brim with explosives, even Mom volunteered some of the stuff in there. He figured that if the Android's were going to find the city anyway we should prepare for their arrival. There are a couple of sentry guns that look for figures moving without any Ki, that was Mom's idea. With all the explosions I'll know they're here, since they have no Ki that's always been a problem. I can power up and take them while their occupied."
He stopped and closed his eyes, his contribution officially over.
"And that will work?"
"Nope," he answered nonchalantly, "they're a lot smarter than they act, for all the games they play."
"And you can't beat them?" The boy flinched, but nodded.
"Not even Gohan could beat them, he was the strongest man who ever lived, stronger even than dad, and I'm still nowhere near his level."
Her heart in her throat but still trying to maintain her outward composure, Lunch kept her eyes on the road. It didn't help; he was staring at her again.
"You didn't know that, did you?"
She shook her head.
"I'm.. sorry, I miss him too. A lot." So the boy wasn't a statue; that was something at least. In fact, the brief glances she stole revealed that he felt Gohan's passing a lot harder than he admitted, well that made sense since they were brothers.
Poor kid, she couldn't leave him dwelling on such a thing.
"So where exactly is Capsule Corp, my memories a bit fuzzy." That was actually true; the streets were getting more and more confusing as she drove. The main problem was that the roads had been stripped of all metal, probably for their new camp. The buildings weren't much different, whomever Mr. Satan was he had thought things out.
The boy pointed out the various turnings, though the strained way he did it implied that he didn't go driving all that often. Must be nice to fly.
"You know," Lunch was beginning to relax, the shaking was gone from her hands and the two voices that were yelling in the background had become faint murmurs, "I still don't know your name."
"It's Trunks; Trunks Briefs."
[Lunch took in the details of the house swiftly - it wasn't difficult.
"I love what you've done with the place."
"Why thank you, just keep walking miss."
The inside of the house was in just as much disrepair as the outside, broken furniture was scattered everywhere along with a few rotting articles of food and clothing. There was even some animal excrement scattered around the place for good measure, it was the most deserted house Lunch had ever seen.
You had to admire the mind that had thought the whole thing up.
Out of the corner of her eye Lunch could see a figure, maybe 6,2, following them. Male or female, handsome or ugly, the details were lost to her. The old man either didn't notice or didn't care but that didn't mean anything, he didn't appear to care whether she lived or died either. They crossed the main room quickly, stopping at the far wall where a broken and dust covered bookcase lent crookedly against the wall.
"Thomas, I'd be obliged if you'd open the door."
The figure stepped into plain view, a man with black scruffy hair and wide shoulders. His gaze was fixed on the ground, arms swinging limply by his side as he approached the bookcase, as if he was embarrassed by her presence. He hesitated for a second, and then his strong arms seized the bookcase and without any of the strain Lunch had came to expect from lesser men forced it backwards along the wooden floor.
"Good boy, now clean up after us before coming down."
Thomas nodded almost franticly, then retreated back out of sight though Lunch wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Behind the bookcase had been hidden a broken wooden door which, she was guessing, led down to the cellar where the old man and his son lived.
The sham extended past the door and into the stairs, which creaked and groaned in the darkness, but about then things began to change. It was admirable really; the supports that held up the ceiling looked old and battered but behind the cracked wood Lunch could just see the dull gleam of metal. The door at the end of the stairs was the same, wooden shell built around a metal door that was probably a lot thicker than it looked.
"Now miss, if you'd be so kind as to press your fingers where the door knob would normally be."
Lunch did so, curious in spite of herself, and her questing fingers were rewarded with a quiet click, and the wooden flap swung outwards and was lifted up to reveal a metal panel with an 8-digit code key. There weren't any movie-style panels where some high-tech device could be hooked up, just the buttons and the door. If you didn't have the code you'd stay outside for a long time.
"Its 2365 miss, and mind you don't type in the wrong numbers. That'd be bad."
She did as he said for she was now, after seeing all she had seen, beginning to form a picture of what sort of man she was dealing with. The door swung open slowly, slow enough that anyone on the inside would know someone was coming before they got in, and confirmed her fears.
The door opened onto a large metallic room – not just one, she realised. It was a whole house buried in the earth; to her right she could see through an open door into a store room packed with cans of preserved, to her left she could see bunk beds – three she would remember later – and right in front of her a dinner table set with ammunition and rifles. The very sight of them made her fingers itch but she suppressed the urge. For as the huge metallic door swung shut she knew with unerring certainty where she was now.
The home of the paranoid delusional.]