Anyways, enjoy!
---
Piccolo's heartbeat would not slow down from the incredible rate it was pumping at. He tried to take deep breaths, calm himself down, and reassure himself in his mind that everything would go fine. Nothing worked. It pounded wildly against his ribs, almost painful. He couldn't will his tongue and lips to form words. His mind was screaming. He felt trickles of sweat trickle down his temple. The room was stuffy and humid. It was hard to breathe.
Despite these conditions, Bob looked to be as calm and comfortable as he would sitting in the back of an air- conditioned million-dollar limousine, sipping on cooled champagne. Piccolo was disgusted by him. All those nights in the bar, they had talked and he had spilled his thoughts to him ceaselessly over a never-empty glass of beer or some other drink. If he ever got barely past half-way empty, his glass was instantly replenished by Bob's ever supplying bottle. And now here he stood, in the house of his enemies, looking as happy and calm as any man who might have just gotten promoted at his dream job.
Piccolo had only glanced at him once after recognizing him and had been struck with an overwhelming since of realization. He had suddenly been filled with knowledge, he knew all that had happened without it being explained to him. Bob had never been his friend at all. He had pretended to be a person he could trust, someone who he could reveal his feelings and deep most thoughts to...but now he saw that it had all been a lie, smeared and blurred by the potential consequences of drinking alcohol. Bob had managed to loosen his lips with the never-ending supply he had at his finger tips, and had blinded Piccolo to his true intent.
"You..." He growled the word as hatefully as he always had, now recognizing that it had been him who he had spoke to on all of those anonymous phone calls, this time embellished with a new passion, "YOU TRICKED ME! YOU FLOOR LICKING BASTARD!"
"Alcohol is one of the most powerful tools of man, if you use it correctly. Rule one of being a bartender: Never drink yourself. Rule two: Use your sources to your advantage. It makes the mind happy with endorphins and loosens the tight knots of morality for even the most cautious and prudent person. It relaxes you, makes you feel okay to talk about things that you normally would never disclose to anyone...That my friend is why alcohol is so evil. It makes a man his own worst enemy and betrayer. You have helped me in ways you will never know."
Piccolo trembled with anger, sweat dampening his back, chest, and forehead. His fists were clenched so tightly his nails threatened to break the rough skin of his palms. He was so enraged at the man's utter defiance and evil intent that he felt the need to run to him and strangle him at that very moment.
Bob lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. Two men, one white and bald, the other black with dread locks, entered the room from the only door there was besides the exit. They patted and searched Piccolo thoroughly. Deeming him wireless, they exited again.
"Well, what do you say we get out of this humid room and into some more comfortable conditions..." He turned abruptly to the only door besides the exit in the room. Piccolo felt an overwhelming temptation to pounce on him when he turned his back to him, but he managed to contain himself and follow mechanically.
The new room they entered was extremely worn and beaten up, unlike the previous room, which had been completely devoid of furniture, carpet, and wallpaper, but had instead metallic flooring and wall panels, the room he now stood in had a few items of well-used furniture, a small black-and-white TV, threadbare carpet, and peeling wallpaper. It wasn't quite as humid as the other room either. "Go ahead and take a seat." Bob offered as he moved to the corner of the room, which held a few counters and single fridge, as well as a coffee machine and microwave. He took the coffee pot off the machine and poured dark black coffee into two mugs. Piccolo watched carefully, and was positive that he had added nothing to the cups. He took the one offered, but did not drink until Bob had, and the rich fluid burned his tongue, but he didn't respond to the pain. The spring in the couch he sat on rubbed against his thigh irritatingly.
Bob sat and drank the coffee without speaking, and Piccolo set down his mug, which was barely drank from, and gripped his knees anxiously as he watched the man before him, his eyebrow twitching in anger at his air of being calmly meeting a friend. He would never again use the word to refer to the man.
"Why?" He finally spat, breaking the silence that had created a maddening silence in his ears.
Bob set down his mug quietly and his fingers intertwined with each other as he rests his elbows thoughtfully on his knees, leaning forward, his eyes looking forward unfocusedly. He paused reflectively before speaking, "I don't know who's in charge. When jobs like this come in, I never hear any names, only proof of pay and the orders. On this particular case I heard that the infamous Damioh had a son. No one before had ever known this information. Your father is very rich and powerful in the underground business world. You and your history were extensively studied; every weakness, relationship, and even your hobbies are now public information to every single one of your father's enemies. Which basically is every person on lower positions that your father on the huge chain of business."
Piccolo listened indifferently. He felt so unattached from his father. His father had hardly ever been in his life. He had provided money for financial support, and that had been all. He barely had any social contact with him. He knew nothing of the details of his work, and really didn't care to. Deep within him a thundering snowball was slowly gaining speed as it rolled down some inner hill, gradually building. It was his contempt for his father. Before he had merely disregarded the abandonment his father had treated him with, brushed it off and pretended not to care. And it really hadn't bothered him too greatly; But now, this man whom he barely knew was unmasking that his father had been the cause of all his pain. The man who had hardly even been in his life, yet had been attached to him by a weak spindle of thread, was the reason for all these events. He sat wordlessly and listened as bob continued on.
"During the research process, your girlfriend was discovered."
Piccolo's brow spasmed. The ax fallen. He had anticipated the fall--he knew it was coming--but when it fell it didn't help the stinging pain that filtered into his entire being. Bob watched his reaction like that of an experienced professor observed the after-effect of an experiment he had preformed countless times, and knew he didn't need to say the rest. It was self explanatory after all.
"Relationships are dangerous things to develop in the business world--they become weaknesses, doors that are opened for manipulation--"
"I'm not even involved in your damn world!" Piccolo exploded, "I hardly even have a so called "Relationship" with my father. The only relationship I share with him is blood--but in reality I hardly know the man's face."
"Family relationships are the most dangerous..." Bob said quietly. "But it was perceived that you indeed did not have a strong bond with your father. That's why you were not used. Instead, it was noticed that you were the main path that he directed his money flow to. It was observed that you, unlike your father, had a passionate relationship with another being...Thus you would be the most vulnerable target--or more correctly, Karina would be."
Piccolo's nails dug into his leg as he heard the name, angered as the lips of the man which he currently hated so passionately formed the syllables. "How could you..."
"To me it was only a job. I wasn't in charge." Bob said mechanically, though Piccolo noticed his eyes were clouded by a restrained resistance of some sort. Inside a strange churn of his stomach hinted to him that Bob now was remorseful for his actions. He disregarded the feeling. "Where is she?"
"I can't release that information until I am notified to." He said, again like a machine programmed to automatically respond to commands and questions with specifically chosen words.
Piccolo gripped his knees so tightly he wouldn't have been surprised if his nails had penetrated his own skin through his pant legs. He released them and stood up to his full height, towering intimidating over Bob. "I don't think you understood me correctly. I asked you, where is she?" He stepped closer to him.
Bob did not move, but seemed tense with some strange feeling--not anger--but more of...fear, or warning. He said coolly, "Do not make any stupid moves," He warned, but it wasn't a threat. It was as if he truly wished to warn Piccolo not to do something that might cause any harm.
"It's my life, I can be stupid if I please," Piccolo replied, ignoring the sense he picked up from him, moving forward again.
Bob tensed even more tightly, as if doing so might will Piccolo to stop his advancement. "That may be true," He said quickly, "But do you not care for Karina's life more than that?"
Piccolo stopped cold, one of his feet in mid-step. He set it down, but back. He slowly backed away, trembling. He sat down, his inside writhing. "That was the whole point of this meeting, was it not? So I could see her again...Know she's safe..."
Bob seemed to relax now. "You will know that soon enough." He sighed softly. "But first, we are required to speak of ransom money before any such thing can take place."
Piccolo felt willing to pay any price, though he hated to fill the wants and greed of the evil beings who had done this to him and Karina. He nodded softly, once, to show he understood.
---
"I'm cold." Karina whispered. They sat huddled in the tiny room, unfurnished whatsoever, shivering. The night air blew in relentlessly from the vent, chilling them and causing their skin to curl.
Bulma sat curled in a ball, her knees pressed to her chest, and her arms wrapped nightly around them. "Me too..." She sighed softly. 18 sat unmoving, not shivering, in the opposite corner, looking to the side in deep thought. Chi-Chi was next to Karina.
Bulma looked up and wished that the stars greeted her eyes instead of the cold steel plated ceiling that hovered above them ominously, as if about to fall and crush them at any moment. Karina's eyes lifted to. She wanted to see the stars, so that at least she knew, somewhere under the huge sky, Piccolo was there too, and in that way she felt closer to him...
---
A form sat slouched in the alley, dank, wet, and musky, just like everything around him. There could be a small snoring sound heard from the hunched over, sitting person. He obviously was asleep. His coat was tattered and well worn, and seemed to give the same effect to the rest of his clothes. His over-cap was pulled over his ears and eyes, and his face bent forward into his newspaper scarf for warmth from his own breath.
A different sound was coming off the man. "Goku? Goku?" a tiny voice called, audible to any passerby. The hobo slept on. "GOKU! WAKE UP!"
The man jerked to consciousness and looked around insanely, "WHO'S CALLING ME!?"
A passing woman with one arm full of groceries, her other hand clasping the child's, jumped in alarm and immediately quickened her pace, pulling the curious child quite forcefully with her. "Come on, Jimmy, avert your eyes! Don't make any eye contact, just keep walkin'..."
Goku groaned and pulled his hat off and his hair immediately sprung out into it's normal position, like springs pressed under something for a long time, then someone lifts the thing off, and they immediately spring out again. He put his finger in his ear and scratched his head.
"Dang, Krillin, you scared me...over." He mumbled.
Krillin growled in Goku's earpiece. "YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE KEEPING AN EYE OUT FOR PICCOLO."
Goku wondered why he ended up getting stuck with the disguise-yourself-as-a-hobo-and-watch-for-piccolo-to-pass job. He murmured, "Well, he hasn't come out of the building yet."
"How do you know if you're sleeping?"
"I was just dozing, over." Goku said matter-of-factly. "My senses were still keen and accurate, and I managed to keep a mental tab on him even through till now." It was true. He could still since Piccolo, subconsciously. He hadn't moved inside the building much since he had fallen asleep.
"Sure," Krillin said disbelievingly. "Quit saying over. You're still in your same position, right?"
"Yep, over." Goku replied, taking a glance down the alley Piccolo had disappeared into.
Goku listened as Krillin paused to twitch, then spoke, exasperated. "And no one seems suspicious?"
Goku snickered a bit. "Well I think I scared the crap out of this lady and he kid...I think they were thinking I was talking to myself. Over."
"Good, you're supposed to look like a lunatic."
Goku beamed with self pride. "I know. Well I'm gonna keep goin' about my duty. I'll check in with you soon. Over." He pulled his cap back on, with some difficulty, pressing his hair down under it once again. He scratched his arm and then stretched and yawned leaning back against the trashcan behind him, putting his arms behind his head.
"Ahh...hobo's have the life!"
---
Piccolo listened to Bob as he rattled of numbers. He just nodded and nodded. He didn't care how much it was, and though it sickened him to fill their greedy pockets, he just wanted Karina free and in his arms again. "Fine, anything, I'll pay you anything..."
Bob smiled somewhat. "Sure your father has that money?"
"I don't care if he does or not, I'll get it one way or another."
"Alright then." Bob stood up. "Stay here. I need to confer."
Piccolo blinked as suddenly he went blind. Or he thought he did anyway. He felt around and blinked a few times. The lights were off...He cried out in pain as a loud high-pitched noise buzzed through the room, seeming to make everything vibrate. He held his ears and compulsively twitched while laying on the side of the couch, feeling as if his brain were the chalkboard of the nails that were the noise, and they were scraping against it.
Suddenly he realized the noise had stopped. The lights turned on and he found it painful to open his eyes. His ears pounded and throbbed painfully as he slowly unsteadily sat himself up. Bob was gone. He didn't even move. He knew all the doors where probably locked.
"Clever." Piccolo growled, wiping some beads of sweat from his brow. "Now I don't know where he exited so now I can't kill whoever is behind that door." He sighed softly and rubbed his temples in pain.
---
Vegeta stood on the corner in a long trench coat, sunglasses in place over his eyes, even though it was night and only street lights produced light upon the wet streets. He sighed softly, by now the movement on the streets almost completely dead. He pulled his trench coat collar up to cover is mouth as he spoke.
"Krillin, come in."
"See anything?"
"Not a blasted thing." He sighed again, "What the hell are we going to do? I mean, what's the point of sitting out here. How will that help anything? If something wrong goes on inside, we won't know a damned thing until it's too late. Sitting out here helpless is driving me insane...We have to try and infiltrate the building!"
Krillin paused in silent agreement. When he spoke again, it was hesitant, "...But, Vegeta...how?"
Vegeta growled softly. "I don't know...Give me a minute."
Krillin sat behind a large cement pillar of the worn, beaten public library across the street, facing the alley Piccolo had gone into. He listened to Vegeta's breathing, his own hushed. His heartbeat felt slow and almost as if it was forced, like his body was having trouble dealing with the wear of all this stress he was going through.
"I think I have an idea," Vegeta said a few minutes later, causing Krillin to jump out of his thoughts.
"Really?"
"Yeah. But I'm not sure how we can pull it off..."
"Tell me."
---
Piccolo felt strange. He couldn't breathe very easily. Each time he took in breath, it was as if his lungs were actually having to force themselves to swell to consume the oxygen. His chest rose and fell sharply with his breathing. Everything seemed to become blurry. He could feel sweat trickling down his temple, his body feeling hot all over. He leaned back and groaned, closing his eyes.
He heard a door open. He looked around wildly but he couldn't distinguish anything. He felt the blackness drawing nearer. Suddenly a hand was on his face. It tilted his chin up. Piccolo felt a cool trickle of fluid flow down his throat. A rush of heat consumed him as he closed his eyes tightly, then suddenly, he opened his eyes, and everything was clear. He felt normal again.
In front of him stood Bob, putting something away into his coat.
"W-what did you do to me!?" Piccolo asked. He could feel his shirt damp from sweat.
"Don't concern yourself with it, you're fine now." He said briefly. "Now...are you ready to see her?"
Piccolo's heart skipped a beat. "Show her to me."
But that's when Piccolo suddenly noticed a figure standing back, near the far wall, beyond Bob. His eyes widened. Karina stood quietly, her eyes adverted in a shy, almost ashamed way. Piccolo noticed her thin hands clasping each other before her lap, still gently and gracefully polite, as she always had been. Her vibrant green hair seemed thin and less lustrous. Her skin was unnaturally pale.
He stood, his breath caught his chest. Bob, unlike he expected, did not attempt to make him sit down again. Instead, he let him advance toward her, slowly and unsurely.
Karina made no move.
---
"I've definately got an idea." Vegeta said again, grinning widely.
"I know!! TELL ME!"
"Well...It involves a hooker."
---
PLUG TIME!
It's really pissing me off how no one is appreciating my friend's great talents. So go over and read this fic, and for GOODNESS SAKE, REVIEW!!!
Ace of Authors (Found on my favorite authors)
Chasing Air
(Sequel to "The Life of a DBZ Gangsta," which might be beneficial to either read or e-mail A.o.A., for a brief summary first.)