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Chapter Four: Anger

March 9th, 796 AD -- March 10th, 796 AD.

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That evening, as Anbe left Baiseru's chambers for her own, she turned and paused at the doorway. "I am too young to remember the events that caused General Vegeta to desert the Empire so, but you were alive then, were you not?" she asked, a round-a-bout way of asking for a brief history.

"I was mearly a child, then." Baiseru replied. "Perhaps eight years of age."

"But you know the reason? Surely, for you are a member of my family by rank, and have served us -- with the rest of your family -- since birth. You must have heard something as to why." Anbe said poiltely, eyes adverted.

Although the two were lovers, it was hard to tell by their speech and actions. They had a truly divided relationship -- at night, and by day. There were no feelings of love between them, just a mutual desire. If Anbe became pregnant from these events, if would become a different thing intirely, but as she wasn't the protective and caring intincts of a Saiyan male had no reason to emerge.

"Why the intrest?" Baiseru asked.

"I know that they are traitors that the fires of the ten Hells of Yusho, the Saiyan God, shall burn hotter then for any for betreying our race and King by forming a planet of their own and instilling a false man as King, but besides that I was not informed of anything else."

"There is not much else," Baiseru replied, sounding a little annoyed, "Vegeta was a general of the first class Army, until it was discovered he planned treason. He and his troops -- several thousand in number -- were sent to purge a planet inhabited by a difficult to destroy race, the Fruits. It was expected they fail, but while it took the army a good amount of time, they destroyed the Fruits. Instead of returning to us on Planet Yasai, the traitor Vegeta named the planet after himself and proclaimed himself ruler of the Saiyan race, with his army acting as his population. A few years later, he was idiotic enough to join forces with Merchant Freeza, and they were soon after killed."

"Freeza had been trying to get us to join him, before that." Anbe commented. Baiseru gave her a withering look that meant to point out that it was a general fact that went without saying.

She frowned briefly, before remembering how that overstepped her ranking. Although a member of the royal family and thus better then most Saiyan, she was only a cousin. Baiseru was, despite his complete lack of royal blood, more important then she, and thus would be a good father for any children she might have, both genetically and politically.

"And then when little Bejita," Baiseru finished, using the adjective to convey not the Scientist's height but low power, "Discovered the Blood Oozaru, and all of the true Saiyan were accounted for, we knew then that one of the traitorous scum had to be the sorce. Due to our war with the Bath planets, such power is in short supply, thus this voyage." The general paused. "Is that clear now, Anbe?" He asked, condencingly.

"Of course, General." Anbe replied with a bow, modestly making up for her overstepping in asking such a un-important question of her better. "I shall now take my leave of you, should you grant it."

Baiseru paused. "No... stay a moment."

Anbe stepped back away from the door and bowed again while smiling slightly. "If it pleases you."

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When #18 had suggested #17 'settle in' his new room, he had done so without question... although, it did occer to him when he arrived that he had nothing but what he was wearing to 'settle in' with. The room was very small, more like a large closet, and painted in various shades of pink and white, to his annoyance. #17 wondered if it wasn't too early to ask for the room to be painted.

He also wondered why he kept thinking of himself as 'Number 17.'

He had lied, a little, earlier. He didn't remember what Gero had done, but he did remember Gero before, and the sheer difference in how his sister looked was enough to convince him... Gero had always been a creepy old bastard, and #17 could remember #16 well enough.

Well, mostly. The way his sister had described the robot, briefly, had sounded different -- more polished -- then the version #17 had seen, that day... he frowned, thinking of it.

At the age of sixteen, #17 had made an enemy out of the head of the only gang at his high school, which hadn't concerned him in the way his sister had insisted it should. He didn't even remember how he had managed it, but it might have had something to do with his sister. Or rather, the many guys at school who had found her attractive and wanted to date -- in actuality, sleep with -- her.

In any case, two weeks after #17 had become aware of the guy's hatred towards him, there had been a big fight during lunch hour, #17 versus him and three of his friends.

#17 had ended up with a bad cut on his arm from a pocket knife, the leader had ended up in the hospital with a broken nose and concussion, and his cohorts fared little better. His triumph had, unfortunatly, been cut short by his expelsion.

His parents and sister had been furious, #17 remembered, and they hadn't accepted his excuse -- his reasoning -- that it wasn't his fault that he had beaten the others. He was defending his sister --

"I can take care of myself, without the help of my little brother!"

-- She had said cooly -- and besides, what of the stitches he had recieved in his arm? Didn't that justify breaking the other guy's nose? Apparently, it didn't. A month of being grounded later, #17 had found that his parents had gotten him a part-time job working in a shady (but willing to employ a sixteen-year-old delinquint) place called "Gero Cyertronics."

Actually, as a kid #17 had read a lot of science fiction manga (the irony didn't fail him now), and had at first been quite interested in working there. Something about building robotic arms and legs for people that needed them was sort of... cool.

Even if there were rumors floating around North Capital that Gero had once been a very strong supporter to the Red Ribbon Army, #17 hadn't paid attention. It had only been ten years since the army's defeat, and people were still supicious. He had been just eight at the time of all the fighting, and really remembered nothing of it, but as far as #17 was concerned people were just being paranoid about Gero's past.

But everything had been fine. Sure, #17 was absolutly miserable at home, but Gero didn't seem to mind if he stayed extra at work. And it was nice to have some money, even if he was very rarely allowed to go anywhere and spend it. After spending a few weeks working at and hanging about the labs, #17 had developed a healthy respect and suspicion of his boss.

Respect because Gero seemed like a mostly okay guy... he let #17 take breaks, whenever he wanted (which was often), and gave him money for the old soda machience in the corner whenever it was wanted. It had really almost been like the doctor hadn't cared if #17 worked or not, as long as he was there. Which, in reflection, was probably the case.

And the reason he had found the man suspicious. Dr. Gero had been too willing to let #17 do nothing. He had a suspicious nature, and had been willing to compile a mental list of Thing Gero Did Creepily, which had included things like the way Dr. Gero would ask #17 to lift a fairly heavy box and just watch, intently. And the way he would ask questions, abruptly, about his homelife, his sister. Did they get along? Did she fight too? How much do your parents care for you? As #17 would take his lunchbreak, eating cold ramen flavored heavily of fake beef, he'd notice how Gero would sit nearby, staring, eyes wandering all over his body and a look of faint delight.

But #17 had decided his employer was a pervert, and that he was strong enough to beat him in a fight, if it came to that.

Of course, when that fight had come, he had lost -- busy defending his sister with one arm and busy trying to keep the other being broken by a then half-completed #16, all steel frame with no 'skin' over, yet.

Shortly after his sister's graduation from high school, she had met him at work. She had -- by then -- forgiven him for being expelled, and they were to go partying -- because they could, because they wanted to, because their parents were out of town because of a sick grandparent.

But Gero had also stepped out, and full of curiousity at being able to explore all of the lab for the first time and confidence that being with his twin had caused #17 to ask his sister to wait a few minutes, first.

He wondered now why he hadn't been suspicious of the coincidence.

But they had explored, calling to eachother when they found something interesting. A robotic arm with a remote control that he had sent skittering over the floor, haphazardly chasing his sister, blueprints for a robot -- suspicious now, cool then -- and then, finally, #16 itself.

They had stood over the coffin-like box in awe, admiring the metal that twisted and turned and jointed to make a giant, humanoid figure, and Dr. Gero had choosen that time to re-appear.

At first he had been nice, in that suspicious way of his. He had complimented his sister's ripped jacket and mini-skirt, telling her she was 'much more beautiful close up.' Warning bells had rang, but they were of a sort that could be blamed on wanting to protect your sister from perverts.

Gero had then asked -- "hypothetically, of course!" -- if they would like to rule the world, given the opportunity. His sister had scoffed, eyebrow raised.

"What kind of a question is that, old man?"

He had -- by then -- gotten to the point where he knew such questions were meant seriously. He thought of all the people out to get him, and answered that it might be cool. Gero had smiled, and quietly asked --

"If I let you, could you?"

-- While activating #16 with a controlled in his hand.

It had gone quickly downhill from there.

...#17 was pulled abruptly out of his revire by loud voices downstairs. The pink walls startled him at first, as did the warm sea air, and he remembered he was at #18's place, not at home, and it had been forty-some years since he was home last, technically.

He felt dumb for having gotten so caught up in his memories, really, and to forget them #17 instead decided to listen in on the other residents of his new home. From the sounds, there were three people besides #18, all male.

"-- Still my house, and I say --"

"-- Understand that this is important to you, but --"

"-- Else is he supposed to go? --"

" -- Killed all those --"

"He's HARMLESS!" #18 shouted, startling #17 -- who had crept out of his room to try and listen to the hushed conversation better. He retreated back to his room, getting the idea as to who the conversation was about.

What had caused them all to hate him so much?

"-- Know that you feel strongly about -- fact is -- killed me --"

#17 headed back to his vantage point above the stairs, feeling like a kid listening in on one of his parent's arguements - not liking to listen but being unable to tear himself away.

" -- Just that --" #18 said, quiet, " -- Knows about --"

Everyone fell silent. #17 crept halfway down the stairs, having completely missed what had been said. He figured that, since it was about him anyway there was nothing wrong with listening in.

" -- If you really feel -- him stay here --" A short man with greying hair was saying softly to #18, who was standing with her back to #17, facing him, an old man, and a pig-man. Her fists were clenched.

" -- Just that I don't remember -- wondered, for years -- now a chance --" #18 said. #17 wanted to climb further down the stairs to hear better, but it was a wonder they hadn't noticed him already. He couldn't understand, through the bits he heard, what was going on, besides that they were all argueing over whether or not he should stay.

" -- Vouch for him -- Responsable." #18 said, quieter still. She seemed to realize how pathetic she sounded then, and straightened up, unclenching and reclenching her fists. She turned suddenly, to go upstairs, and saw him.

#18's eyes widened minutely.

#17's eyes widened humongusly. And, feeling a small child, he let out an 'eep' and scurried up the stairs, curseing his sudden cowardice all the while.

"Was that him?" Krillen asked, sounding mildly surprised at how different his wife's twin suddenly looked and acted.

"Yes." #18 said, back to her usual short, emotionless answers. "I'll go call the others, and tell them."

Roshi had been sitting, mostly quiet, during the exchange, but now he stood and cleared his throat. "I know I'm not your relative -- although I could be your sugar daddy if you wanted--," he added, wagging his eyebrows and #18, "But this is my house, still, and I don't want him living in it!"

Oolong nodded furiously in agreement, and Krillen looked ashamed for not remembering that fact before agreeing that #17 could stay.

#18's look could have frozen lava. "He stays."

"But --" Roshi said.

"He might be a weakling now, but I'm not. Got it, old man?"

Protests died weakly as #18 marched off to the kitchen.

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Worried sick, Videl picked up the phone on its first ring. "Hello, Mrs. Bulma?" she asked, believing to know the speaker already, "Any news about Bra?"

"It's me." #18 said on the other end. Videl was immediatly embarressed for presuming. "What about Bra?"

"Uh -- well, that's right, we hadn't called yet -- Well, Pan-chan took her entrance exams to West City High today, and on the way home stopped at Capsule Corp.," Videl rambled, "And once there she foud Bra, very ill and complaining of an upset stomach. Well, Pan-chan -- thankfully she was responcable enough to realize! -- took Bra to the hospital because Trunks and Bulma were out, and, well, Bra's being opperated on right now. Her appendix was fit to burst, and if Pan hadn't arrived just then -- because Bra is too proud to admit pain and that sort of thing -- then everything would have been really serious. But Bulma's worried sick, and --"

Videl paused. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you don't need every detail."

"That's alright." #18 said, thinking of Bra. She and her family rarely saw Bulma's family without the Sons also present, and so her veiw of the girl was probably a few years outdated. Blue hair, sharp face, tight clothing, talkative. Did Saiyan even have appendixes?

"Well, Ma'am, may I ask why you're calling?" Videl asked presently.

"Just to let you know that... my brother has been reincarnted and will be staying with me and Krillen at the Kame house."

Now it was Videl's turn to be silent and try and place this person. #18's brother... well, she had heard stories from Gohan of course, but she didn't think she had ever seen him... excepting from a distance two years ago, when he killed all those people. He looked a lot like #18, Gohan had said, except with black hair instead of blonde.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Videl said, a bit too loudly, "He killed all of those people, including your husband!"

#18's voice was tense. "Yes, I know. He's human now, so you ought to know how little of a threat to anyone that makes him." Her words were meant to insult, and they did. Videl fumed silently on the other line for a minute.

"Well, I don't know about this!" she cried. "I know he's your brother and all, but--"

"Listen, I didn't call you to ask your opinion!" #18 said, voice growing loud. "I called so you can tell your husband and all the other Sons that my brother is alive and human and weak and he will be staying all three at the Kame house. I'm not as strong as a Saiyan, true, but I think I can handle my younger brother!"

"And what if he learns to fight? Humans can kill eachother just fine without ki, you know." Videl said angrily.

"He won't learn to fight, he won't use ki, and if he does ANYTHING he shouldn't I'll take full responcability. Now, spread the word, tell Bra to get well soon, and have a good day!" #18 said forcefully, hanging up the phone so hard that it was unattached from its plastic holder on the wall.

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Name Puns:

Yusho -- The word for "Soy-Sauce" with flipped sylables, but also (amusingly enough) the word "Victory" in Japanese.

Thanks to Brandon B. for beta-reading as usual!!!!