Nicholas Bledsoe's Author's Notes: OK! You guys can stop pestering me now! I wrote the next chapter, so let me get some sleeeeeeep. Ok, I know I asked for it, but I just thought I could have a little fun tormenting the Saiyan Princess. I didn't realize at the time what I was getting myself into, and much of what I had planned has changed. One, it is darker, and two, it is longer. This was originally going to be a single chapter, but because it was becoming so long, I divided it into three separate chapter. If you're the first to guess the theme I chose for the titles, you get a cookie (though it may take a while for you to get it, as I am still cleaning out my CD drive from the last time I sent one).
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, DBGT, Yan Can Cook, etc. The only thing I own is my Piko-Piko Hammer. Its so cool and kawaii. I just have to show it to… HEY! Where's my hammer?!
*A very happy elf name Mia (smiling like this: ^_^ ) skips away clutching the hammer*
Great, now I don't have anything… Well, at least I still have my health…
*VLP Appears and hits Nicholas over the head with a giant mallet*
VLP: NO TORTURING THE PRINCESS!
MiaElf: O_O
Nick: Ouchies… please review…
*VLP hits Nicholas again to shut him up*
VLP: *Evil Smirk*
MiaElf: Um… Anywaaaays…. On with the fic.
The Android Menace…
"Soon, Princess," he whispered. No, not a whisper, more of a quiet declaration of war. He walked along the outskirts of the massive complex, scanning the walls for his target. Soon he paused to look at a window on the building.
More precisely, looking at a single window, higher up on the wall. Pink light filtered through the diaphanous violet material of the draperies.
"Yes," he smirked, as a petite silhouette appeared in the window, superimposing itself against the curtains. "Very, very soon."
He watched her window for several minutes, his ice blue eyes peering from beneath the brim of a dark gray fedora, his matching gray trench coat rippling in the cold breeze. Then, as silently as he had arrived, he turned and disappeared into the night.
* * *
"Dammit, Bra!" Trunks yelled, his voice echoing through the halls of Capsule Corp. "Keep that mangy mongrel out of my room"
"He's not a mongrel!" Bra yelled back from her room, "And YOU'RE the only one here with mange!"
"AAAAAAHHH!" came the horrified (and in Bra's opinion, girlish) scream out of Trunks's room, after which a terrified Sesshoumaru bolted though the partially opened doorway of the Saiyan princess's bedroom and into her arms. Bra looked down into a pair of big sad brown eyes that just seemed to plead "pweeeease don't let the mean man yell at me anymore" while Sesshy's normally-pointy black ears flattened down sorrowfully.
There was a loud thump as her door was slammed open (though most of the impact was absorbed by a small family of plushies that had taken up residence there) and Bra looked up to see a seething Trunks glaring at the half-husky pup, the remains of what had once been a shoe clutched in his hand.
"Look what your mutt did to my good Italian loafers!" he spat through clenched teeth.
"Oh, puhleeease, you're throwing a hissy fit over a stupid shoe!?" Yes, she actually managed to say those words aloud, though it hurt her very much to do so. She would apologize to her own shoes later though, maybe take them all out to be polished. Yes, that would make it up to them. "And what are you complaining about? Its not like we're broke, you idiot. Just buy another pair."
Trunks blinked a couple of times, as though he hadn't realized that. Moron… Bra thought, as Trunks took a few moments to formulate his next argument.
"That's not the point!" he shouted. "That dog shouldn't even be in here. It has a dog house, make it sleep outside!"
Bra looked down at the fuzzy little black and gray husky-mix cradled in her arms, scratching him behind the ear as she cooed, "But he's just a wittle baby." The puppy started wagging its tail, its tongue lolling about happily. Despite how cute he looked when he was napping in his little igloo doghouse, she just couldn't bear the thought of her precious little puppy sleeping outside in the cold, especially when it was just starting to rain.
Finally growing too nauseated by the scene in front of him, Trunks rolled his eyes and stormed back to his room, tossing the shoe over his shoulder. Bra gave him a sideways glance as she whispered to Sesshy, "Don't worry about mean old grumpy Trunksy. I'm sure he'll forget all about this…"
She leaned down and picked up the discarded shoe, smiling evilly, "…right after he buys you another pair of chew toys."
* * *
Smiling proudly behind the front desk in his crisp, coal black suit, the concierge of the grand hotel Il Palazzo greeted his newest guest. It was refreshing to see such a well mannered young gentleman. The black-haired youth, dressed in a clean gray traveling coat and carrying a black leather valise, wanted to surprise his ladylove by staying in town to visit her.
Ding.
Yeah, and Frieza spent his spare time feeding bread crumbs to 'wittle fwuffy baby duckies'…
Ding!Ding!Ding!
Darrel, the cheap hotel's night manager, day manager, owner, janitor and bookie who hid his receding hairline by keeping his remaining hair cropped to the same length as the stubble on his face, sat behind the counter (and a nice, fairly scratched up layer of bulletproof glass). He looked up from the tattered, filthy and worn out pages of his magazine at some guy who had apparently been standing there for a while dripping rain water on his nice filthy floor before getting tired of waiting and ringing the bell on the outside of the glass.
"Whatcha want, kid?" Darrel said out of one side of his mouth, keeping the cigarette he was smoking firmly gripped between his lips.
"I want a room," he answered darkly, trying to keep from saying one of the many sarcastic comments his mind had immediately assembled. Shouldn't that have been an obvious answer? This was a hotel, wasn't it. Didn't people rent hotel rooms? Then again, it was possible that he was mistaken about the place. With all the garbage strategically positioned around the lobby, the building might be a wildlife preserve for cockroaches.
Darrel grumbled as he set his magazine down, puffing smoke through his nostrils as he dragged himself to his feet. He took a key from the third row (not high enough off the ground to offer a good view, but high enough to be a miserable climb).
"Checkout's at ten," he said, wiping his hands on his dingy tank top before opening the guest register. "Name?"
"First of all," the person in the dripping gray trench coat and fedora said, pushing a stack of bills under the gap between the counter and the glass, "You don't need my name."
Finding himself distracted by the small pile of cash, Darrel simply slid the key to his guest as he set about counting the money.
Ding. "And second…"
Darrel looked up to see his guest, one hand resting on the bell, the other holding up the key.
"…not this one," he said, pushing the key back under the glass. He pointed at the wall, to a single key hanging in the center of the highest row.
"I'll take that room," he said, smirking as Darrel looked up to the key he would have to climb to get (just high enough to be a miserable climb).
Once he had the key, he grabbed his black canvas duffel, and headed for his new room on the sixth floor. Swinging the door to the sixty-sixth room open, he exposed it to light for the first time in months, his menacing shadow causing all kinds of vermin to scurry back to their holes.
"Ah," he said, "home sweet home." he dropped his duffel on the bed, and walked over to the window on the far wall. He opened the curtains just enough to peek through, smiling at the view. He had not picked this room to cause trouble for the lowly little manager.
Well, not entirely…
And it had been mere coincidence that his room number should happen to epitomize his adversary (at least in his mind).
He unzipped the bag, pulling out a blanket wrapped protectively around something and a tripod. He set the tripod in front of the window, which he opened just a crack. Then carefully unwrapping his package, checking first to be sure that it was loaded, he attached it to the tripod and aimed it out the window, putting his eye to the lens.
No, the real reason he chose this room was for the view alone, straight across the city, and into the property of Capsule Corp.
"Yes," he said triumphantly, having found the window he was looking for. He centered the form of his target, the sleeping Saiyan princess, in his scope
Yes, he though as he placed the crosshairs directly over her where heart lay hidden beneath lilac colored silk , a perfect view.
Squeezing slowly with his index finger, he fired off a solitary shot…
* * *
Trunks leaned back on the couch as he flipped through the channels mindlessly. Action movie, action movie, martial arts film, action movie. Bleh! Yeah, it was completely out of character for a Saiyan, but living in this family, life was pretty much an action movie 24-7.
Click. Segal.
Click. Stalone.
Click. Cooking Show.
Click. Jackie Chan.
Wait a minute… Click.
Hmm… this isn't so bad, he thought as the cook, some guy named Yan, quickly transformed a fish, head and all, into some kind of serving basket. Despite how disgusting the deep-fried head of the fish was, he was starting to get pretty hungry watching it, though he was too engrossed in the program to get up and get anything to eat.
It wasn't like he watched cooking shows. Cooking shows were stupid. He just wanted a break from all the action movies and wrestling programs. Good Dende, he was sick of wrestling shows. His dad had developed a sick addiction to big time wrestling, since one of the wrestlers (a Bill Gold-something) reminded him of one of his former minions. It was a rare occasion that Trunks had control of the remote, between Vegeta's 50 premium action channels, and Bra's relentless viewing of the Fashion Channel.
It was strange that she had not come out of her room. Usually she appeared the moment he was just beginning to enjoy something. Apparently the universe had created her specifically to prevent him from experiencing happiness. He was almost starting to get worried that he hadn't seen her yet this morning.
"TRUUUUUUUNKS!"
Almost.
"Trunks!" came the screeching voice of his brat sister. "What the HELL did you do with my cell phone?!"
Trunks ground his teeth in irritation as he looked over his shoulder. Even though she was three rooms away, he still couldn't hear the TV over her yelling. Looking back at the screen, he saw that Mr. Yan had just finished the recipe and was moving on. Damn her! he though. I missed the best part!
"Trunks! Are you even listening?!"
"What are you bitching about now?!" he finally yelled back.
"What did you do to my phone?" she was still yelling from outside the room.
"I haven't touched your stupid phone!" Dammit, she always blamed him if something went wrong. He was beginning to wonder what he had done to get Dende so ticked off at him.
"Then why won't it stop playing that stupid chicken dance song?!"
Trunks paled as he remembered what happened to Bra's cell phone. It technically wasn't his fault, but he was still going to catch the blame for it.
"It wasn't me!" he protested. Actually, it was his best friend. Goten had found Bra's cell phone and started messing around, listening to the ring tones. He had gone nuts when he found that stupid chicken dance. Of course he hadn't changed it back. What was it about best friends that they always managed to find ways to get you in trouble? (Yeah, even he thought that sounded hypocritical)
"I don't care! Just change it back to Toxic!"
"No! Change it back yourself!"
"No, YOU change it back," she shouted insistently, then, as a torturous afterthought, "AND kiss Sesshy to apologize!"
Trunks could almost hear her grinning evilly. "I am NOT kissing your stupid dog."
"You'll do it, or I'll blast you into another dimension." she said, finally appearing at the doorway.
"Ha! The only thing you could blast into another dimension is a mosquito," Trunks teased. "And I remember you couldn't do THAT either."
"Grrrr!" The angry princess launched a ki blast at the smiling Trunks, which he easily ducked. The blast careened past and hit a house plant on the other side of the room.
Trunks was busting up laughing when he saw the slightly toasted ficus plant. "That's the same thing that happened when you tried to blast that stupid mosquito!"
"Daaaaddyyyyyy!" Bra whined loudly.
Her voice could even be heard from the other side of the house, which is where the equally loud reply came from. "What's wrong, Princess?"
"Trunksie is being mean to me!"
"Boy!" Vegeta yelled. "Leave your sister alone!"
"Crap," Trunks muttered under his breath, leave it to the little brat to go whining to daddy when she didn't get her way. He jumped up from the couch, irritated "Forget this. I'll be outside."
Having forced Trunks to retreat, Bra smirked smugly, then stuck her tongue out at him.
"Spoiled little self-centered Brat!" he shouted as he slammed the door shut behind him. Yes, 'Brat'. 'Brat' with a capital 'B'. Bra with a 'T', Brat taking the place of a propper noun. AAAAARGH! He punched a nearby tree, releasing some of his anger, along with a good amount of ki.
He stared numbly at the hole he had managed to punch clean through the trunk of the tree. Running his fingers along the splintered edges of the cavity. Looking at the lines he could see inside, he estimated the tree to be at least 30 years old. This tree is older than I am, he thought, and I just about blew it in two.
He chuckled lightly to himself. What was he getting so worked up over? His stupid little sister's whining? Was something so trivial worth this? He looked back inside the hole. It wasn't too bad, it went straight through the center, so there was only a little big of live wood that got hit. Maybe his mother or grandfather would have something to fix this, or maybe patch it up.
He was on his way to the lab when Sesshoumaru ran up to him, barking his little head off. Trunks looked down at him, half amused and half annoyed. "If Bra sent you out here, you can tell her I'm still not kissing you."
The puppy barked again, then whimpered and ran off around the building. Trunks narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then he saw the dog come back around the building, whining again. What is his problem? he thought.
He followed the noisy pup around the corner, watching from a distance as it ran up to a guy in a gray trench coat walking on the sidewalk along the edge of the property. The figure turned its head towards the yapping little fuzz ball, looking around nervously and trying to shoo it away. When he saw Trunks the guy started walking quickly in the opposite direction, heading around the corner.
Trunks started jogging towards him as he disappeared out of sight. He jumped over the hedge and onto the sidewalk, but the guy was gone. Trunks ran over to the next corner, but there was nothing. Where the hell did he go? He couldn't have just disappeared…
* * *
17 breathed a sigh of relief as he shut the door behind him. He took off the hat and coat, laying them on the bed. Everything had been going just fine, until It came along (he still couldn't bring himself to refer to It with that stupid name Bra had chosen). If that hadn't been bad enough, the dumb mutt had gone and fetched the Saiyan princess's idiot brother.
Lucky for him, Trunks hadn't looked up. He had jumped up into the top of one of the trees around Capsule Corp. and had waited there for a good minute and a half before the purple-haired fool had given up scratching his head and left.
Still, he was surprised the dog hadn't followed the Saiyan, wagging its tail happily. That would have been ironic, all his painstaking work shot to hell by a little puppy. Oh well, he thought, at least Bra had the good sense to get rid of that ridiculous bow.
And he had accomplished what he set out to do. He flipped out the small crank on the top of his SLR camera, rewinding it by hand. He had to admit it was a little archaic, but there was something rewarding about using good old-fashioned film.
He took the roll of film into the bathroom, which as an android he had no use for, and had converted into a small darkroom. Turning off the lights and covering the tiny window, he turned on the small CD player on the counter. He flicked the top of the canister, popping out the tightly wound coil of film. He switched his sensors over to see by way of sonar, the sound of Linkin Park's Crawling guiding his hands as he wound the film onto the developing reel.
* * *
Trunks grumbled to himself as he drove across town from work to pick Bra up from cheerleading practice, again. He was getting tired of chauffeuring her lazy butt around town whenever she needed to go somewhere. And why? Cause she was so afraid her precious little sports car would get a scratch that she never took it out of the garage. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. She did take it out of the garage, to wash it, wax it, have it tuned up (all of which was done by OTHER people. Bra would never do any work on her own. She was so afraid her fingernail polish would get a scratch.)
As he parked his car, he could see the local boys, some sitting in the bleachers, more standing next to them or other places where they could not be seen as easily, watching the varsity cheerleaders practice. Trunks chuckled to himself, remembering a time when he would have joined them. But he had grown out of that particular fixation a long time ago.
And besides, he thought as he stepped out of the car and walked towards the field, my little sister is one of the cheerleaders they were staring at. He positioned himself just inside the gate, standing next to the chain link fence. He was still wearing his sunglasses and tried to look as big and silently menacing as he possibly could.
Everyone at the school knew who Bra was, and who her brother was, and even though he maintained the stony façade, he was laughing on the inside. Several of the boys had visibly jumped when they saw him, and all of them were making damn sure they did not get caught looking in the Saiyan Princess's direction. One or two actually grabbed their backpacks and left, forcing Trunks to suppress a smirk.
As the girls finished their practice and packed up their things, Trunks tried to see if he could pick up on what Bra and her friends were gossiping about this week. He was not eavesdropping on her conversation. He was just improving his own skills while simultaneously gathering intelligence from enemy communications (hey, all sibling relations are war).
Snap.
That wasn't right. It wasn't really a single snap, but two snaps in quick succession, followed by a ratcheting noise. A camera? If it was, it was an old one. He looked around, but could not see anyone taking pictures.
Snap. Snap.
Again, and this time he was able to home in in the source. The mystery shutterbug was underneath the bleachers. One of the boys was sneaking pictures of the cheerleaders as they practiced. The little pervert better not have been taking any pictures of Bra, or there were going to be some serious consequences. He stalked over to the bleachers to wait for the miscreant in question, taking a quick peek underneath to see if he recognized who it was.
To say he was disturbed would be an understatement. It was the same guy he had seen outside of Capsule Corp. only days before. The same hat and trench coat. He could not make out the guy's face, but he was certain it was the same guy. He was tempted to just rush in blasting, and ask questions later (if there was anything left), but decided to try and find out a little bit more first (then he could blast the guy).
Trunks pulled his sister aside as she was heading back to the locker room, somewhere not visible from the bleachers, and gave her the keys to his car. It went against his better judgment to do so, having been a passenger throughout Bra's driver training, and the delighted grin on her face only confirmed his fears that his car was going to be in serious jeopardy.
He kept out of sight as Bra happily jumped into his car, gunning the engine and... HEY! Easy on the clutch, dangit! Oh, she would have to peel out. And he just got those tires, too. Resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to take the car in for a major overhaul, he went back to keeping a lookout. He only had to wait a few moments, and the mystery man made his appearance.
* * *
Trunks had been following "Mr. Pervert" for about an hour and a half. Lucky for him, the guy had not followed Bra home, or else Trunks would have had to show the pervert how good his impression of his father really was. So far, they had been to a Camera Hut, where the guy had bought some film, then a Radio Shack (Where all deranged loners hang out. Hmm… that reminds me. I need to get some new tires for my little R/C car. ZipZaps are sooooooo cool!), and a Sam's Automotive Shed.
He had been hoping the guy would stick to the shanty theme, and maybe stop buy a Pizza Hut next, but no such luck. Note to self, Trunks though, next time I decide to follow some strange guy in a gray trench coat all around town, eat first.
The guy finally arrived at a fairly filthy, but large hotel across the town. Keeping out of sight, Trunks watched him climb up the six flights of stairs, jogging up two steps at a time. He disappeared into room 666.
Oooookaaay… Trunks thought staring up at the number on the door, That makes things just a bit creepier than I would like.
Putting on his best 'question me and you'll find yourself in another dimension' attitude, Trunks marched into the lobby, right up to the front counter. He slammed his hands down on the counter to get the attention of the sleeping man behind the bullet proof glass.
Darrel snorted loudly as he awoke, looking around groggily before glancing at Trunks. "Yeah? Whatcha want?" he asked, scratching himself through his new, clean tank top.
"I'm looking for information."
"What do I look like?" Darrel said, searching the ground until he found his new, pristine (but still no less filthy) magazine. "A tour guide?"
Trunks held back his opinion of the man's appearance for the moment. "I want to know who the guy staying in room 666 is."
"I dunno," Darrel answered, "Mr. Satan?"
He laughed to himself. Even if he did know, he wouldn't say. The guy had been the best paying tenant there in a long time. Still, he'd have a little fun messing with this yuppie.
"Look buddy," Trunks said, which got to look up. When he did he almost fell backwards in his attempt to dive underneath the counter. Trunks tosses the blazing yellow energy ball in his hand a few times before he continued, "I just what to know who the guy is."
"I…I don't know! He never gave me his name," Darrel whimpered. "It was just some kid."
"You better not be lying, or I WILL level this place."
"NO! I swear it's the truth!"
"Oh, and one more thing. I'll need a key to that room."
"Here. Take mine." Darrel said, his shaking hand appearing over the edge of the counter to hand the master key to Trunks.
Trunks chuckled once he was outside. That had been a little too fun. He could almost see why his dad had spent so many years being an evil megalomaniac. He climbed up the stairs to the sixth floor, found a good secluded spot at the end of the hall, and waited.
An hour later…
His stomach was really starting to grumble now, and Trunks was thinking of zipping down to that vending machine he had glimpsed in the lobby and cleaning it out. Just when he was about to give in to the urge, the door he was watching opened, and the man in gray stepped out, checking the doorknob to be certain it was locked. Satisfied, he turned, pulled his hat down further, and walked towards the stairs on the opposite side of the hall from Trunks.
After he was out of sight, Trunks ran to the door and unlocked it, quickly shutting it behind him and locking it again. It was too dark for him to see. Trunks searched the wall until he found the light switch.
He gasped in shock. It was Bra's room. Not as in a replica of her room, but as in a kind of Shrine to his baby sister, every wall was covered with photos of Bra. Photos of her at school, cheerleading practice, raves and clubs, pictures taken outside of Capsule Corp. and… Pics of her sleeping in her bedroom! Oh, now he was ticked. Trunks kicked over the tripod with its telescopic lens, staring angrily out the window at the view of their house.
He continued to search around the room, finding the makeshift darkroom, more photos and blueprints of Capsule Corp. and its buildings, and a diary. Flipping through the diary, he found mostly numbers and technical jargon, measurements of buildings and rooms (down to the millimeter), and timetables. One was a schedule for Friday, tomorrow. It listed everyone's plans for the evening, his Mother and Father's schedules, Bra's, and even his own. Just after sundown, there was a section of time marked off when everyone was supposed to be out of the house.
Well, he would just have to disappoint his date that evening, as well as Mr. Stalker-Pervert.
* * *
Tonight was the night. 17 was going to make his move . He had spent weeks plotting out every detail, learning the layout of the Princess's room, learning when she would be out so he could make the arrangements for when she got back. He had learned that Bra's mother dragged Vegeta to dinner with Goku and Chichi every Friday, and Bra herself would be out clubbing till late, which gave him plenty of time to prepare. He had the entire wonderful evening planned out. He opened his duffel bag, shoving in a few final items.
Yes Princess, he thought, chuckling evilly, tonight will be a night to remember.
He could have traversed the distance in moments, but he did not want to give himself away. So he took the cunning course and kept his energy levels low. There were a great number of traveling methods open to him.
Of course, had he thought about it a little longer, he might have decided against using public transportation. He was seriously considering blasting the bus into oblivion.
First off, he was seated next to an rather large and rather tired businessman who kept invading his personal space as he fell asleep and leaned against the irritable android. Then there was the little old lady in front of him, and her friend the burly, leather-clad biker, who both spoke quite loudly exchanging recipes for crêpes suzette.
Then there were the annoying chibi-things seated behind him (correction, SHOULD have been seated behind him, as they insisted on climbing on the back of his own seat). When the pigtailed little girl's upside-down head started staring at him over the top of the seat, he just closed his eyes and tried to ignore her for the remainder of the bus trip, and seriously working to not blast the two little brats.
Must not be evil. Don't want to have bad karma. Must not be evil. Don't want to piss Dende off…
Of course, what he was going to do to the Saiyan princess could very well be considered as evil, though not from his point of view. It was just exacting justice for what she had put him through. Though Dende might not see it that way…
After weighing the two sides of the argument in his head, having his karma shot all to hell, or getting his revenge on the spoiled purple princess, 17 composed a short but meaningful letter in his mind.
'Dear Dende,
Here's what I think of karma: XP
-Android 17'
Oh well, even if his karma was shot for the next five centuries or so, it was worth it. And besides, he thought as he checked to be sure his digital camcorder was loaded and fully charged, I'll have the whole thing on video to help remember the occasion.
Of course he didn't really need the camera. With his electronic brain he could store far more information than the puny handheld device ever could, but maybe he would post the whole thing on the internet later. He chuckled to himself at that thought.
With that thought as his motivation, he was able to make it through the rest of the bus ride without killing anyone, and was actually smiling quite happily.
He walked a few blocks after getting off the bus, finally ducking into an alley not far from Capsule Corp. He took off his coat, revealing black military style clothes, he pulled a black hood from one of the pockets on his duffel, stuffing his coat into the now empty pouch. He threw the duffel over his shoulder, tightening the strap so the bag wouldn't jostle around.
Satisfied that everything was ready, he set off. He ran don the street, keeping to the shadows. though he was moving slowly compared to his top speed, he was still moving much faster than a normal person could, and went unseen. In no time he stood before the curving walls of Capsule Corp, standing beneath the windows with the purple drapes.
He couldn't risk flying up to the windows. The energy required to do that might give away his presence. But the servos and hydraulics in his legs were more than powerful enough. He gauged the distance perfectly, landing on the thin ledge without a sound. One hand firmly gripping the wall, he pressed his other hand against the glass lifting the window pane up and off its tracks. In one swift, smooth motion, he grabbed the panel before it could fall and hit the floor.
He stepped through the window, smirking proudly beneath the hood, and set the metal-framed glass against the wall. Taking off the duffel bag and setting it on the floor, he thought about how easy it had been to break into the princess's room. Not that he was complaining, mind you, but he was a little disappointed that the whole thing wasn't more of a challenge.
Snap.Snap.
17 spun towards the sound of snapping fingers, turning just in time to catch a blast in the chest from pointblank range. He was thrown backwards into the wall (which held, thanks to the special reinforcement Bulma had added when she was pregnant with Bra for the anticipated Saiyan sibling rivalries).
"Look, punk," Trunks said as he stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room, a touch of Vegeta's menace in his voice, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but no one stalks my baby sister, got it!"
Crap, he didn't anticipate the spoiled rich boy butting his nose into this, and he sure as hell didn't expect him to go all 'overprotective big brother' on him. Well, it didn't matter now. There was no way he could pull this off tonight, so the only thing he could do was get his bag and get the hell out of there. Maybe he would get another chance to get to Bra later.
In a flash of movement he grabbed his bag and dashed for the open window. Trunks saw this and was surprised. That blast should have kept a normal human down for a few hours, but it was no big deal. Though he was surprised by the guy's speed, he was unimpressed. He had seen faster, though it was obvious this wasn't just some ordinary perverted creep from Bra's school. He simply stepped in front of the window and blocked his escape, waiting with a smirk for the intruder to collide with an immovable wall of Saiyan.
He was shocked when the collision actually knocked him over. This guy is heavier than he looks!
Even as he feel, Trunks grabbed the intruder's head, ripping his mask off and sending him into a backwards somersault out of the window. His momentum carried 17 forward, and he landed face first on the ground, plowing into it until he slammed headfirst into a tree.
Even though he was an android, that hurt. What the hell was Dr. Gero thinking when he installed pain receptors anyways? He pulled his head out of the trunk, splinters of wood falling from his skull. As he sat up holding his head and waited for his processors to recover from the unexpected shock, he realized he was holding hair in his hands and not the black material of the mask.
Oh shit…
It didn't take too long for Trunks to recognize who his opponent was. There were only two people he knew with that face. The other had blonde hair, and she didn't piss him off like this guy did with his mere presence near his baby sister.
"YOU!" he shouted from the windowsill. He had been planning on just giving his sister's stalker a little scare, just a tiny energy blast, a few bruises, maybe a cracked rib or two. But all that restraint had gone out the window. A smirk that would have looked at home on his father graced Trunks's lips. "Oh this is gonna be sweet."
He fired a ki blast at the android, which 17 was barely able to dodge, the energy careening into the tree his head had been imbedded in only moments before. Trunks jumped out of the window floating in midair as he sent a rapid series of blasts at the fast moving android. 17 sprinted beneath Trunks and up the wall behind him, flipping over backwards and delivering a powerful kick to his head, knocking Trunks out of the air.
Trunks shook off the blow as 17 landed, spinning around just as the android flipped back and kicked off the wall, flying forward at full speed to spear Trunks with his skull (note: do not try this at home unless you too have a titanium and polycarbonate spine, and even if you do, always wear a helmet). Trunks saw the move coming, but managed to intercept it, flipping 17 up and over his head, turning it into a high speed suplex.
Both fighters hit the ground hard, and though Trunks was a little less shaken from it than 17, he was too amazed that he had actually worked and could only think, I can't believe all Dad's stupid wrestling shows were actually useful. And all this time I thought they were just a glorified male soap-opera…
It took 17 slightly longer to recover, but he did not waste any time thinking about what had happened, heading straight for his duffel bag so he could grab it and escape. Even so, he did not pass up the opportunity to land a good punch upside Trunks's bewildered face as he prepared to bolt away.
Though the blow knocked Trunks back to the ground, it did not daze him as 17 had hoped. In fact it made him madder, and Trunks retaliated by tackling 17's legs and pulling the android to the ground with him, causing the contents of the duffel to spill out over the ground.
As Trunks held the android pinned to the ground, he stared wide-eyed at the numerous wicked looking devices and mechanical objects that lay strewn on the grass. Whoa, he though as his gage slowly took in all of the items, this is waaaay creepier than I thought. I knew I didn't like this guy even before Bra started to hang out with him. I shoulda… SWEET HOLY DENDE! What the HELL was he gonna use THAT for?!?
"I don't know what sick twisted games you had in mind, you sick pervert," Trunks spat through clenched teeth, "but I'm not gonna let you lay a hand on my sister!"
17 just stared at him, as if regarding the validity of Trunks threat. Then, starting with a low chuckle, he stared at the half-Saiyan as though finding his threats amusing. Trunks was actually a little disturbed as Android 17 broke out in maniacal laughter.