Hi again! *waves to her only faithful reviewer Hannio (love you!), glares
at the rest who glare right back at her*
Ah, sorry about the long update - I kinda forgot that I was an author for a
while. *gives a Goku nervous laugh and hand behind head TM (whatever that
means)*
Hey! I just got caught up in B/V updates etc. and the Bra & Goten list just
so rarely gets new stories I haven't even moved to the second page yet,
oops now I have. *sigh*
Here it is - the fourth chapter, nice and long.
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Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ, etc., etc.
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Chapter 4: The Fiery Pit
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The Fiery Pit. Such an appealing name.
She didn't want to go in. It wasn't her crowd, that clubbed in clubs which actually served non-alcoholic drinks and the latest pop songs.
No; this was hard-core night life, it just reeked of alcohol, smoke, and barely constrained primal instincts.
No wonder Goten loved it.
She on the other hand . . .
She shivered, she so did not want to enter it. But a promise was a promise - though hadn't she said no promises? But that had to do with changing Goten; she had said she'd try. Wasn't that a promise in and of itself? Erg, sometimes she hated taking after her mother so much. Why couldn't she just not analyze this? Oh well, she assumed trying required actually going into the club. After heaving a sigh, she gave herself one last look over. She was wearing a glittery blue halter top which was rather modest and a crinkled white cotton skirt that almost went to her knee. All in all it was a tamer outfit than her usual. But this was a place where she definitely didn't want to be mistaken as a working girl.
She squared her shoulders and boldly approached the door. The bouncer gave her a once-over.
"You sure you're in the right place, sweet thing?" Bra clinched her teeth and withdrew a fifty from her purse. Smiling sweetly, she slipped it into his front pocket. He immediately stepped away from the door, letting her pass but not without a leer at her backside. "Come back any time," he called after her.
She growled under her breath. Men.
Bra had to bite back a gag as she was struck by the overpowering stench of sweat and smoke. How did Goten stand it? He was a half-Saiyan just like she. She snorted inwardly. Her father would probably say even more so. As she started to weave her way through the milling crowd, she couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't the whole problem. He couldn't forgive Goku for leaving - or was that more his human side? He seemed to indulge in all these hard-core activities and not care about the mother at home or friends who worried about him. So Saiyan. But such a turn-about from how she once knew him. What happened? Surely there was some vestige of humanity left in him? There she went again, thinking too much. She'd have to reserve her judgment until after she'd at least met up with Goten.
First things first. She had to find the spiky-haired man. Inwardly cursing at the fact she had never learned to ki-sense, she decided to ask the bartender. If Goten had made this his usual hangout, the bartender would know the area he had staked out as his. Finally making her way to the bar, she signaled for the man behind the counter.
"What'll it be?" the man asked with the easy familiarity those of his occupation often exuded. Though his eyes trailed down her curiously, he made no comment of how out-of-place she seemed. After all, you never insult a potential customer.
"Actually I'm looking for someone. His name is Goten." She had to practically shout over the raucous music. The man looked at her blankly. She groaned inwardly. "He has black eyes, black hair. About this tall." She made a guess, not really remembering how tall he was. No sign of recognition. Ugh, there were too many d* people here. She searched her mind for something that would stick out. "His hair's really spiky. Pretty well built and um, he's got his left eyebrow pierced." Finally the man nodded.
"You mean Akuma?" She paused. Akuma, he had to be joking. She rolled her eyes but nodded. The bartender hesitated, looking her over again. She wasn't dressed like one of Akuma's women. Didn't act like one either. They usually came in the slutty variety, though a few were of a higher quality. Most were drinkers, all clubbers. However they all shared one thing in common: they always only stuck around for a few nights. "You sure?"
Bra growled slightly. "Yes. Now could you tell where he is?" Wordlessly the man stuck his thumb behind him. Following the finger, she could make out a dark passageway. Of course Goten would have his own room. Probably came frequently enough to live here. "Thanks," she muttered.
The gloom seemed the thicken as she proceeded down the corridor. There were two or three rooms to either side, but as the doors were closed Bra decided not to chance walking in on people 'otherwise occupied'. The hallway then widened into a larger room, quieter than the main area of the club though even smokier. It was bigger than she had suspected and it seemed to hold several distinct 'cliques'. D*, how was she supposed to find Goten now? The only light in the room came from a single overly elaborate old-fashioned chandelier, that seemed very out of place with dungeon like walls, inscribed with visions of fire. Friendly was not an adjective one would use to describe the area. However, the sporadic bursts of laughter and loud conversations belied the somber settings. Bra's eyes flicked around the room, but as soon as she surveyed the right side of the room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her head whipped back around and blue locked with ebony. She froze, unexpectedly ensnared. Then suddenly she blinked and the eyes were gone. She shook her head. Well he was definitely there - no one else could have such creepy black eyes. D* him for being so, so intimidating. Laughable considering her father, but somehow Goten was daunting in a way her father wasn't, or maybe more appropriately, had ceased to be.
She shifted to the left and tried to spot him. There was a large table crowded with alcohol, girls in clubbing outfits, and grinning teenage males. None were Goten. But he was over there somewhere. She hesitated. What was she supposed to do? Go over there and ask for him? Then what?
Was she insane? Goten was over thirty and she was going to what? Try to straighten him out? He could do whatever he wanted to do and who was she to be able to stop him? She set her shoulders. She'd come to talk to him. After that. . . well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
When it became clear to the crowd where she was heading, a few catcalls erupted especially loud from a muscular brunette. Immediately a tall blond in muted fuchsia frowned and smacked him on the head. She huffed as he just blinked owlishly. Bra just smiled uneasily, before a red-headed slender boy turned to her. He couldn't have been over 18, but the gleam in his green eyes and open beer in his hand argued that he was older.
"What can I do you for, cutie?" he asked, not totally unkindly, though his eyes did trail down her figure.
"Well actually, would any of you happen to know where Go, er, Akuma is?" All conversation came a standstill as people all around the table immediately swiveled their heads. Red hair put down the beer bottle and the catcaller and girlfriend straightened up.
"What do you want with him?" She wasn't one of Akuma's potential girls. He knew that in an instant. Maybe a cop? Between the under-aged drinking and drug partaking, the cops would love to get their claws the clientele of The Fiery Pit. They'd stoop that low, and yet . . . wouldn't a cop be more subtle?
"Consider me a message from his mother," Bra smirked. There were a few snickers from that.
"Oo, could she send me a message?" asked a gangly blond boy, openly ogling her. Red hair glared at him. If she knew Akuma, then he had a feeling that messing with her wouldn't go over well with him. He was one of the few who knew that Akuma was not as laid back as he seemed.
"He's at the table by the wall," he replied, pointing further back. Bra nodded her thanks and carefully picked her way around the table, ignoring the stares and whispers directed her way.
And there he was. He seemed, more harmless than she had imagined. He wore a simple black tank top and classy loose black slacks. His eyes were closed as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Behind was draped a blond woman wearing tight jeans and a red tube top. She was in the middle of speaking to Goten in a low voice when she caught sight of Bra. Arching an eyebrow, she examined her. Bra grit her teeth. She was starting to get really sick of that.
The girl opened her mouth to speak, but Goten held up a hand and opened his eyes. The light flashed on his brow piercing as he tilted his head towards his hanger on, muttering a few words to her, which she bent down to hear though she kept her eyes fixed on Bra. After a moment, the girl reluctantly nodded and walked off, back to the main party. And finally Goten's eyes rested on Bra.
Okay, now he didn't seem as harmless.
After hesitating for a minute, she sat down across from him. He made no motion to stop her - though none to encourage her either. Neither said a word as their eyes locked for an indeterminable amount of time. For Bra, it was nerve-wracking. She suddenly found that the bridge she needed to cross still needed to be built, by hand. What was she doing here again? She swallowed. He stared. And the silence stretched on.
He lifted up his cigarette for another drag.
"You shouldn't smoke." The words popped out before she could think. She flushed red as he lifted up an elegant eyebrow. "It's bad for you, you know . . ." she trailed off embarrassed. He sneered at her as he took his next drag and blew the smoke in her face. "Don't do that." She snapped automatically.
"Was that a command, princess?" the last word slipped off his tongue, slick with mocking. Straightening up before she could fire off an answer, he lowered the cigarette and spoke straight to her. "Let's cut the c*. You don't want to be here. That's just plain obvious. Someone obviously asked you to come check up on me. Probably Pan, seeing as my b* brother doesn't f*ing care, my mom wouldn't know, and nobody else cares either. So you came. You saw Akuma. And now you can go." And as he stared down at her, she felt the strong urge to just nod and flee.
She hadn't really promised anything and it was his life to lead. He seemed to be perfectly happy the way he was and the thought of her being able to change him or him changing for her, was simply ludicrous. She hadn't seen him for over three years! She didn't know him and she sure as heck wasn't about to be buddy buddy with him. She wanted no part of the life he had made for himself - from all the stories that had filtered to her through Pan.
And yet . . . what about Pan, ChiChi, her brother and everyone else who cared about him?
'He's becoming self-destructive.' So Trunks had said. But who was she to help him?
"Just go home and do whatever you rich kids do," Goten finished.
Bra's hands fisted. She was not a child! Why did everyone keep treating her like one?
"No." Her adamant refusal surprised him, and so did the fire in her eyes. She was sick of him making her feel small and powerless. She was a woman, not a child! "Yes, I don't want to be here. And it was Trunks who sent me. This isn't my usual scene. I'm sure that's obvious. And it was Trunks who sent me. But oh well! I'm staying." Each word was spat out and Goten was able to glimpse the temper that made her her mother's daughter in more ways than one.
His eyebrow arched again. "Oh come on, you hate it here. The smoke, the attitudes, the hard liqueur. It took me a year to get used to it," the admission was casual as well as the accusation.
"I can deal. I'm an adult." Her tone became unconsciously fierce and he eyed her carefully.
"I don't think you can," he finally challenged slowly. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.
"How 'bout this, Saiyan?" the nickname slipped out slyly. She wasn't exactly sure where it came from, but she didn't stop to analyze it. Her father had said in a roundabout compliment once though, that Goten was probably the most Saiyan of all the hybrids. And at the moment all in black, he looked as dangerous as a Saiyan should be. Goten's only reaction was a slight narrowing of the eyes. "I manage to survive the night here and we meet somewhere else, not a bar," she clarified quickly. "To talk, whatever." Goten smirked.
"And if you don't?" he goaded her.
"I'll leave you alone - and make sure so does Trunks," she added when he didn't seem to agree. He pondered her for a second, then raised his arm. As if it was a silent signal, the girl from before returned.
"I'll take my usual drink," he said, not bothering to turn his gaze from the blue-haired woman in front of him.
"I'll take the same," she suddenly chimed rashly. His face changed to mild surprise. She simply smiled her 'the-devil-may-care' smile. So what if she didn't know what his usual was? Gulping inside, she just hoped her Saiyan side would hold her in good stead.
"You heard the lady," Goten said, when the girl didn't move. Blinking, she nodded and walked away again, this time taking the time to look over her shoulder at the new girl.
There was silence at the small table by the wall. Bra absently noted that the tables were done in pine, but with flame borders. The drinks arrived and each took one. As she lifted the glass, getting a good whiff of the alcohol within, they locked eyes. Bra was determined to not let those eyes creek her out again. She would prove herself this night. Goten raised his glass, his eyes sparkling with something she couldn't identify. She followed his example and they clinked glasses.
"Welcome to Hell, princess."
And their eyes remained locked.
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So here it is finally, chapter 4. Only a day, kinda, late. How will the night end?
Just to let you know, this will be a long fic. It is as much a story about Bra & Goten's relationship as it is about Goten's bitterness about Goku. (Heroes don't have the right to dream, was actually inspired by this fic, so you can read that for Goku's side of the story) Warning: Bra and Goten will not just jump into bed. Oh and the whole welcome to hell - it's the Fiery Pit after all.
I will try to write more uninterruptedly.
Opinion poll:
What should Goten's 'usual' be? (I have very little knowledge in this area, so give me a name and little description of the drink)
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Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ, etc., etc.
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Chapter 4: The Fiery Pit
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The Fiery Pit. Such an appealing name.
She didn't want to go in. It wasn't her crowd, that clubbed in clubs which actually served non-alcoholic drinks and the latest pop songs.
No; this was hard-core night life, it just reeked of alcohol, smoke, and barely constrained primal instincts.
No wonder Goten loved it.
She on the other hand . . .
She shivered, she so did not want to enter it. But a promise was a promise - though hadn't she said no promises? But that had to do with changing Goten; she had said she'd try. Wasn't that a promise in and of itself? Erg, sometimes she hated taking after her mother so much. Why couldn't she just not analyze this? Oh well, she assumed trying required actually going into the club. After heaving a sigh, she gave herself one last look over. She was wearing a glittery blue halter top which was rather modest and a crinkled white cotton skirt that almost went to her knee. All in all it was a tamer outfit than her usual. But this was a place where she definitely didn't want to be mistaken as a working girl.
She squared her shoulders and boldly approached the door. The bouncer gave her a once-over.
"You sure you're in the right place, sweet thing?" Bra clinched her teeth and withdrew a fifty from her purse. Smiling sweetly, she slipped it into his front pocket. He immediately stepped away from the door, letting her pass but not without a leer at her backside. "Come back any time," he called after her.
She growled under her breath. Men.
Bra had to bite back a gag as she was struck by the overpowering stench of sweat and smoke. How did Goten stand it? He was a half-Saiyan just like she. She snorted inwardly. Her father would probably say even more so. As she started to weave her way through the milling crowd, she couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't the whole problem. He couldn't forgive Goku for leaving - or was that more his human side? He seemed to indulge in all these hard-core activities and not care about the mother at home or friends who worried about him. So Saiyan. But such a turn-about from how she once knew him. What happened? Surely there was some vestige of humanity left in him? There she went again, thinking too much. She'd have to reserve her judgment until after she'd at least met up with Goten.
First things first. She had to find the spiky-haired man. Inwardly cursing at the fact she had never learned to ki-sense, she decided to ask the bartender. If Goten had made this his usual hangout, the bartender would know the area he had staked out as his. Finally making her way to the bar, she signaled for the man behind the counter.
"What'll it be?" the man asked with the easy familiarity those of his occupation often exuded. Though his eyes trailed down her curiously, he made no comment of how out-of-place she seemed. After all, you never insult a potential customer.
"Actually I'm looking for someone. His name is Goten." She had to practically shout over the raucous music. The man looked at her blankly. She groaned inwardly. "He has black eyes, black hair. About this tall." She made a guess, not really remembering how tall he was. No sign of recognition. Ugh, there were too many d* people here. She searched her mind for something that would stick out. "His hair's really spiky. Pretty well built and um, he's got his left eyebrow pierced." Finally the man nodded.
"You mean Akuma?" She paused. Akuma, he had to be joking. She rolled her eyes but nodded. The bartender hesitated, looking her over again. She wasn't dressed like one of Akuma's women. Didn't act like one either. They usually came in the slutty variety, though a few were of a higher quality. Most were drinkers, all clubbers. However they all shared one thing in common: they always only stuck around for a few nights. "You sure?"
Bra growled slightly. "Yes. Now could you tell where he is?" Wordlessly the man stuck his thumb behind him. Following the finger, she could make out a dark passageway. Of course Goten would have his own room. Probably came frequently enough to live here. "Thanks," she muttered.
The gloom seemed the thicken as she proceeded down the corridor. There were two or three rooms to either side, but as the doors were closed Bra decided not to chance walking in on people 'otherwise occupied'. The hallway then widened into a larger room, quieter than the main area of the club though even smokier. It was bigger than she had suspected and it seemed to hold several distinct 'cliques'. D*, how was she supposed to find Goten now? The only light in the room came from a single overly elaborate old-fashioned chandelier, that seemed very out of place with dungeon like walls, inscribed with visions of fire. Friendly was not an adjective one would use to describe the area. However, the sporadic bursts of laughter and loud conversations belied the somber settings. Bra's eyes flicked around the room, but as soon as she surveyed the right side of the room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her head whipped back around and blue locked with ebony. She froze, unexpectedly ensnared. Then suddenly she blinked and the eyes were gone. She shook her head. Well he was definitely there - no one else could have such creepy black eyes. D* him for being so, so intimidating. Laughable considering her father, but somehow Goten was daunting in a way her father wasn't, or maybe more appropriately, had ceased to be.
She shifted to the left and tried to spot him. There was a large table crowded with alcohol, girls in clubbing outfits, and grinning teenage males. None were Goten. But he was over there somewhere. She hesitated. What was she supposed to do? Go over there and ask for him? Then what?
Was she insane? Goten was over thirty and she was going to what? Try to straighten him out? He could do whatever he wanted to do and who was she to be able to stop him? She set her shoulders. She'd come to talk to him. After that. . . well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
When it became clear to the crowd where she was heading, a few catcalls erupted especially loud from a muscular brunette. Immediately a tall blond in muted fuchsia frowned and smacked him on the head. She huffed as he just blinked owlishly. Bra just smiled uneasily, before a red-headed slender boy turned to her. He couldn't have been over 18, but the gleam in his green eyes and open beer in his hand argued that he was older.
"What can I do you for, cutie?" he asked, not totally unkindly, though his eyes did trail down her figure.
"Well actually, would any of you happen to know where Go, er, Akuma is?" All conversation came a standstill as people all around the table immediately swiveled their heads. Red hair put down the beer bottle and the catcaller and girlfriend straightened up.
"What do you want with him?" She wasn't one of Akuma's potential girls. He knew that in an instant. Maybe a cop? Between the under-aged drinking and drug partaking, the cops would love to get their claws the clientele of The Fiery Pit. They'd stoop that low, and yet . . . wouldn't a cop be more subtle?
"Consider me a message from his mother," Bra smirked. There were a few snickers from that.
"Oo, could she send me a message?" asked a gangly blond boy, openly ogling her. Red hair glared at him. If she knew Akuma, then he had a feeling that messing with her wouldn't go over well with him. He was one of the few who knew that Akuma was not as laid back as he seemed.
"He's at the table by the wall," he replied, pointing further back. Bra nodded her thanks and carefully picked her way around the table, ignoring the stares and whispers directed her way.
And there he was. He seemed, more harmless than she had imagined. He wore a simple black tank top and classy loose black slacks. His eyes were closed as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Behind was draped a blond woman wearing tight jeans and a red tube top. She was in the middle of speaking to Goten in a low voice when she caught sight of Bra. Arching an eyebrow, she examined her. Bra grit her teeth. She was starting to get really sick of that.
The girl opened her mouth to speak, but Goten held up a hand and opened his eyes. The light flashed on his brow piercing as he tilted his head towards his hanger on, muttering a few words to her, which she bent down to hear though she kept her eyes fixed on Bra. After a moment, the girl reluctantly nodded and walked off, back to the main party. And finally Goten's eyes rested on Bra.
Okay, now he didn't seem as harmless.
After hesitating for a minute, she sat down across from him. He made no motion to stop her - though none to encourage her either. Neither said a word as their eyes locked for an indeterminable amount of time. For Bra, it was nerve-wracking. She suddenly found that the bridge she needed to cross still needed to be built, by hand. What was she doing here again? She swallowed. He stared. And the silence stretched on.
He lifted up his cigarette for another drag.
"You shouldn't smoke." The words popped out before she could think. She flushed red as he lifted up an elegant eyebrow. "It's bad for you, you know . . ." she trailed off embarrassed. He sneered at her as he took his next drag and blew the smoke in her face. "Don't do that." She snapped automatically.
"Was that a command, princess?" the last word slipped off his tongue, slick with mocking. Straightening up before she could fire off an answer, he lowered the cigarette and spoke straight to her. "Let's cut the c*. You don't want to be here. That's just plain obvious. Someone obviously asked you to come check up on me. Probably Pan, seeing as my b* brother doesn't f*ing care, my mom wouldn't know, and nobody else cares either. So you came. You saw Akuma. And now you can go." And as he stared down at her, she felt the strong urge to just nod and flee.
She hadn't really promised anything and it was his life to lead. He seemed to be perfectly happy the way he was and the thought of her being able to change him or him changing for her, was simply ludicrous. She hadn't seen him for over three years! She didn't know him and she sure as heck wasn't about to be buddy buddy with him. She wanted no part of the life he had made for himself - from all the stories that had filtered to her through Pan.
And yet . . . what about Pan, ChiChi, her brother and everyone else who cared about him?
'He's becoming self-destructive.' So Trunks had said. But who was she to help him?
"Just go home and do whatever you rich kids do," Goten finished.
Bra's hands fisted. She was not a child! Why did everyone keep treating her like one?
"No." Her adamant refusal surprised him, and so did the fire in her eyes. She was sick of him making her feel small and powerless. She was a woman, not a child! "Yes, I don't want to be here. And it was Trunks who sent me. This isn't my usual scene. I'm sure that's obvious. And it was Trunks who sent me. But oh well! I'm staying." Each word was spat out and Goten was able to glimpse the temper that made her her mother's daughter in more ways than one.
His eyebrow arched again. "Oh come on, you hate it here. The smoke, the attitudes, the hard liqueur. It took me a year to get used to it," the admission was casual as well as the accusation.
"I can deal. I'm an adult." Her tone became unconsciously fierce and he eyed her carefully.
"I don't think you can," he finally challenged slowly. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.
"How 'bout this, Saiyan?" the nickname slipped out slyly. She wasn't exactly sure where it came from, but she didn't stop to analyze it. Her father had said in a roundabout compliment once though, that Goten was probably the most Saiyan of all the hybrids. And at the moment all in black, he looked as dangerous as a Saiyan should be. Goten's only reaction was a slight narrowing of the eyes. "I manage to survive the night here and we meet somewhere else, not a bar," she clarified quickly. "To talk, whatever." Goten smirked.
"And if you don't?" he goaded her.
"I'll leave you alone - and make sure so does Trunks," she added when he didn't seem to agree. He pondered her for a second, then raised his arm. As if it was a silent signal, the girl from before returned.
"I'll take my usual drink," he said, not bothering to turn his gaze from the blue-haired woman in front of him.
"I'll take the same," she suddenly chimed rashly. His face changed to mild surprise. She simply smiled her 'the-devil-may-care' smile. So what if she didn't know what his usual was? Gulping inside, she just hoped her Saiyan side would hold her in good stead.
"You heard the lady," Goten said, when the girl didn't move. Blinking, she nodded and walked away again, this time taking the time to look over her shoulder at the new girl.
There was silence at the small table by the wall. Bra absently noted that the tables were done in pine, but with flame borders. The drinks arrived and each took one. As she lifted the glass, getting a good whiff of the alcohol within, they locked eyes. Bra was determined to not let those eyes creek her out again. She would prove herself this night. Goten raised his glass, his eyes sparkling with something she couldn't identify. She followed his example and they clinked glasses.
"Welcome to Hell, princess."
And their eyes remained locked.
*
---------------------------------------------------------------
So here it is finally, chapter 4. Only a day, kinda, late. How will the night end?
Just to let you know, this will be a long fic. It is as much a story about Bra & Goten's relationship as it is about Goten's bitterness about Goku. (Heroes don't have the right to dream, was actually inspired by this fic, so you can read that for Goku's side of the story) Warning: Bra and Goten will not just jump into bed. Oh and the whole welcome to hell - it's the Fiery Pit after all.
I will try to write more uninterruptedly.
Opinion poll:
What should Goten's 'usual' be? (I have very little knowledge in this area, so give me a name and little description of the drink)