by DoraMouse
Act 3
"No." Uub was a young man with dark skin, dark eyes and a neatly arranged mohawk of stiff dark hair. Lately his attitude had seemed rather dark as well. "If we train here then we'll scare all the fish. The village might starve."
Goku, age forty-eight, was starting to get impatient. Frustrated. Uub had been giving him spiels like this for the past week and half. If they sparred here then they would scare away the fish and starve a village. If they sparred there then it would disturb the habitat of some endangered animal. No matter the location, Uub would find an environmental reason to avoid training.
For most of his life and for all his afterlifes, Goku had trained. He had always been skilled at fighting. This was his forte, this was what he did best. The excuses might even be halfway valid but Goku didn't appreciate them. Uub was strong. The boys potential could not be denied. Goku had never envisioned becoming a full time sensei, a formal teacher of martial arts. He hadn't even taught his sons all that much - hadn't had the chance. But for Uub, Goku had stepped up to the challenge. Had moved away from home. He'd given up so much, in terms of a personal life. A social life. And yet here was Uub, making excuses instead of progress.
"You need to train in all kinds of environments." Goku spoke softly and from experience. "Because your opponents will not always allow you the luxury of choosing the battleground."
Uub had the mind of a ten year old human boy. He had the physical body of a ten year old martial arts champion. But his soul... Uub didn't remember being over five million years old, didn't remember being the pure evil half of an inhuman monster. Yet that's exactly what Uub was.
To be perfectly blunt, it made Goku anxious. Because he'd wished for this. Had asked the gods to reincarnate the evil part of Buus soul in human form. And the gods had granted his wish. So now Goku, feeling responsible, was trying to make sure that Uub didn't have any reason to become evil again. He couldn't afford to fail. Because although Goku felt stronger than ever... Well. He was also older than ever. Almost fifty. Sometimes he felt twice that old. Not physically, of course. Goku was in excellent condition physically. Had been for most of his life. But... Emotionally and mentally and all the rest...
It was no secret. Goku loved martial arts. Loved getting stronger. Loved facing and overcoming the challenges of training. But... Such a paradox. Because even though he did, in some ways, enjoy the art of fighting... He didn't actually enjoy fighting. Couldn't. Fighting wasn't fun. There was too much at stake. People got hurt. People died. Greedy idiots tried to ruin the universe for everyone else. It was horrible to think about. Horrible to remember.
But it happened anyway. Goku had saved the Earth at least half a dozen times. He'd saved other planets too. He'd even saved a chunk of the afterlife once. Victory brought peace. And peace never lasted. There would always be some new evil creature looming on the horizon. Some new evil plan.
The last evil creature had been Buu, ten years ago. Ten long years. It was almost too good to be true. Goku felt the nervous tension in his bones. Something was going to disrupt the peace. Soon. Something evil. Would he be able to save the world again? Would Uub be ready for the fight? What if his student turned against him? What if -
A burst of power. A chubby pink hand. The world slipped away.
Unfortunately for Buu - who was just trying to gather everyone, as per Pans request - Goku was not in the mood to have anything sneak up on him.
A flash of gold. Much as Goten hated to power up this far, he couldn't just let his father level the house. So he stood and deflected the remnants of the ki blast with his aura.
Silence. Goten took a moment to absorb the scene. He'd been in a corridor at his school a moment ago. Now he was in his own backyard. And Gohan was here, with an unreadable expression. And their father was there, scowling. Pan stood a few yards away. An elderly dog - what was that dogs name, ah right, Bee - sat on the grass. And then there was Buu... Well. Pieces of Buu, anyway.
The scattered pink blobs took a few minutes to pull themselves back together. Buu inspected the flaming crater that his impact had created. He waved a hand. The fires sputtered to nothingness.
"Buu," Pan broke the silence. "I said to bring everyone. Where's my Mom? Where's Grandpa Hercule?" Pan turned to face her father, uncle and grandfather. She knew that they were all very strong but she'd never let that frighten her. "You're late for dinner." She scolded.
"Yes. They are." ChiChis voice was ice on steel.
Gotens skin crawled. He dropped his energy shield and checked the reactions around him before looking towards his mother. He respected his mother. Loved her. Admired her. But he never wanted to make her angry. Because her temper... She was kind of scary, that's all. ChiChi didn't get violent when she was angry - that would have been too easy for the warriors to deal with. Goten was hard pressed to put it into words. Somehow his mother had the power to stay calm even when she was angry. Without fighting - without even arguing, sometimes - she could make other people feel guilty and miserable for upsetting her. Revenge came in many forms and if provoked, ChiChi was not above seeking revenge.
She sounded as if she'd been provoked. Her gaze was locked on Gohan. In a tone of forced sweetness, ChiChi said: "Pan, hon, why don't you and Buu go play somewhere else for a while?"
"But I'm hungry!" While not oblivious to the moods of the adults, Pan saw no harm in standing her ground. "Can't we eat dinner first? Please?"
For once in his life, Goten appreciated Pans whining. Yes. Eating dinner would be a good idea. A meal would give his mother some time to cool off. And she would cool off, at least a little bit. Because everyone would compliment her cooking.
"I've thought of that." ChiChi smiled and gave her granddaughter a capsule. "I've packed you a picnic dinner. You and Buu can eat and play and even stay up late, if you want."
Goten tried not to wince. This was painful to watch. He actually pitied his older brother. Their mother rarely got upset enough to disregard Gohans parental authority over Pan.
Pan hesitated for a moment. She gave her father a curious glance, as if wondering just what kind of trouble he was very obviously in. Then, with a shrug, she turned to Buu. Pan didn't mind the idea of camping out. She'd camped out before. And with Buu around... She wouldn't be in any sort of danger. "Let's go visit Icarus." Pan suggested. Buu nodded and lifted Bee, glad for the excuse to leave.
Teleport didn't create any sound. Pan, Buu and Bee blurred and faded and were gone. Simple as that. No flash of light. No sudden inexplicable breezes.
Silence. ChiChi didn't say a thing. She just waited. Expectant.
Gohan didn't make her wait long. "Murder." He kicked at the ground. "I don't even know who they think I killed but..."
"WHAT?" Goku had been living away from his family for the past year in order to train Uub. He'd visited his wife and sons on occasion but had no clue of the recent events.
"Our son has been accused of conspiring to murder Dr. Briefs." ChiChi hissed. Her eyes refocused on Gohan. "It's on the news."
"Oh. Wonderful." Gohan let a short pause convey the depth of his sarcasm. Then he corrected his mother. "I haven't been accused, not exactly. The police in West Capital City are looking for the Great Saiyaman. They don't know that I'm him. Yet."
"But you were arrested?" Goten felt that he might as well contribute to the conversation. He saw the questioning glances and indicated the mobile phone that he still had in his hand. "Videl told me." He directed the next part at his mother. "I was about to call home and let you know."
Gohan looked ready to strangle something. He hadn't wanted his parents to know that he'd been arrested. He grudgingly gave in, although he wasn't about to put all his cards on the table. The Great Saiyaman had been accused of a lot more than murder. But why worry everyone? There was nothing they could do about it. This was personal, something that he alone had to take care of.
"So now you'll be charged with evading the law as well?" ChiChi didn't miss a beat.
Gohan was scrambling for time. "I won't be charged with anything. The Great Saiyaman..."
"What are you going to do," Goten interrupted, "stop fighting crime?"
Abrupt silence. Gohan hadn't thought that far ahead yet and it showed in his expression. He'd been fighting crime for years. Too long to simply drop the habit. But if the police were looking for the Great Saiyaman...
"He could just get a different costume."
Everyone stared at Goku in disbelief for a moment. And then another moment. The collective stare made him feel as if he wasn't quite grasping the situation. Wasn't on the same page as everyone else. Inwardly, Goku squirmed. Why did his ideas always seem to get this kind of a reaction?
ChiChi coughed. She picked her words with care. Her voice was flat. "Yes. You're right. He could just get a different costume. But how would that solve the problem, in the long run?"
Silence.
"Dinner smells good." Goku wandered towards the house. He loved his family, truly he did. He just... Didn't think that he was any good at family stuff. So he gave up. ChiChi was, in his opinion, the better parent. Managing the home - that was her element, her forte. She would think of something. Goku was willing to help out if needed. But he couldn't pretend to fully understand the human legal system.
He did, however, understand televisions and news broadcasts. So Goku wasn't in the house for very long. He returned, full of questions. "Bulma has been arrested?"
Gohan nodded. "I think she's been accused of murder as well."
"First degree murder. And not just accused." Goten cut in - it was nice, for once, to be the one person who had some idea of what was going on. "According to Videl, there's evidence."
"How would Videl know?" Gohan didn't mean to sound irritated but he was. The day had gone sour on him. While he didn't mind that Videl was apparently very well informed, it made him wonder just how many other people might have heard about his being arrested and so forth.
Goten frowned and fidgeted with his mobile phone. "Videl called me from Satan City. I don't know what compelled her to go there but she was visiting some friends of hers in the police department. They told her everything they could." Goten managed a weak smile. "She wanted me to call you, Mom and tell you. I'm also supposed to ask you to watch Pan for a while."
Now Gohan felt sick. He had a faint idea of what was coming next. Mentally he reached out and checked the world for Videls ki signature. He located her with ease. Videls energy signature radiated a blend of curiosity and anger. And she was on the move. Flying, probably. And headed... "She's going to West Capital City, isn't she?" Gohan paled. What if Videl wore her Saiyaman costume? What if the police tried to arrest her? She hadn't trained in a while - what if she wasn't bulletproof anymore?
Goku must have been on the same train of thought because he began to blur around the edges.
"Don't." ChiChis voice held the family in place. "Videl is smarter than that. She must know by now that the West Capital City police are looking for the Saiyaman. She wouldn't go in costume."
"No. She wouldn't." Goten hovered. He despised the thought of West Capital City but he hovered anyway. "And she's not weak either. But she might need help."
Goten departed, a streak of pale orange headed west. Videl hadn't asked for his help. Neither had Gohan. Nobody had asked. But people didn't always ask, Goten knew that. And he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away. He wanted to help. Wanted to prove himself. Who knew, maybe this little crisis would bring the family together. Maybe his brother would be able to trust more easily after all this. Eh. Perhaps that was hoping for too much. But it was worth a shot, at any rate.
Please. That's what the note said, please. And not just once but several times. Just sitting there. Plain as day. Black on white. Please.
At times like this, Vegeta wondered if he'd made a mistake. Well. No. That wasn't quite it. Most of his life was a mistake. Vegeta knew that much. He had survived all sorts of insane disasters, had been reincarnated twice. It had to be a mistake. Or a punishment. Or a curse. Or something. A life like his - that couldn't just be coincidence. Couldn't just be bad luck.
But, on the whole, perhaps he should have known. Perhaps he should have seen this coming. Perhaps he'd made things worse. Returning to Earth, settling down... Vegeta shook his head. What had he been thinking? How could he have ever believed that things would get better?
Age fifty-four, Vegeta was not in particularly bad health. He'd overcome some of his issues with food - he'd always half expected to be poisoned - and had gained a little weight. Most of it muscle. He'd grown a few inches taller and several hundred times stronger during his years on Earth. Maybe it was his Saiyan heritage, maybe it was the years of gallivanting around in space - but time hadn't taken a visible toll on him. No gray hairs. No wrinkles. When strangers guessed his age, they tended to assume that Vegeta was in his mid-thirties. Or younger.
Which had always infuriated Bulma. Because she was fifty-two now and she hadn't aged anywhere near as gracefully. No matter how she tried to cover her age with makeup and cosmetic surgery... No matter how she tried to distract people with her flashy jewelry and her expensive clothes...
Vegeta had never understood what the woman had against exercise. He suspected that her precious chemical death sticks - humans called them cigarettes - had something to do with it. But Vegeta didn't care to ask. He'd come close, once or twice, to confronting Bulma about her smoking habit. Because the death sticks annoyed him. The smoke had managed to make him sick. More than once. But he hadn't wanted to admit that so...
His attention returned to the note. A little rectangle of paper covered in unsteady rows of dark ink. Familiar cursive handwriting. Vegeta had found the note earlier. It had been hanging on the door of his room. People usually left notes for him there, it was one of the few places where he would notice such things. But none of other notes had been like this one. Not ever. And Vegeta wasn't quite sure how to react.
He was being asked - very sincerely and very politely and by someone that he cared about - to just mind his own business. Which hurt, a little. Because he'd started to think that welfare of the Briefs family was his business, sort of. Bulma was... Well. Vegeta had been living and sleeping with her, on and off, for slightly more than twenty years now. Did their ongoing affair mean nothing? True, they weren't married. But that had been a mutual agreement. Bulma had never been the sort of person who followed tradition. And Vegeta, ever the proud Saiyan at heart, had flat out refused to let human ideals govern his personal life.
But what about the kids?
Er. Kid wasn't really the right word. Trunks was... How old now? Eighteen? Nineteen? Eh. Didn't matter. Trunks was an adult. He had finished school. Found a job. Moved out. And Bura... Well. She was a bit younger. Only six or seven. Certainly not more than eight. But she did her best to act like an adult, usually. That's what all her teachers said, anyway. Bura didn't play as much as her peers. She was in an elementary school - whatever that implied - and during recess, she studied for college exams.
Vegeta hadn't adapted to the role of father terribly well. It wasn't as if he'd had any idea of what a father was supposed to be. The kids hadn't come with instruction manuals. There were still moments when Vegeta regarded his offspring as if they were complete strangers. But, all in all, he'd done his best. He'd kept most of his dignity. And... Well. He did care about the kids, in his own way.
If he hadn't cared, it would have been easy for Vegeta to follow the instructions in the note. Easy to keep to himself. To mind his own business. Very easy. Hmph. So they knew that he cared. They must. If they'd thought, for even one second, that he didn't care - then why bother to leave the note? Why ask at all? Why say please?
What to do...
Dr. Briefs was dead. Bulma was in jail. Vegeta knew that much. He'd seen the news. Rescuing Bulma... Would she be upset? Would it hurt her pride, if she couldn't resolve the situation on her own? Would it make things worse?
He didn't try to decide whether or not Bulma was guilty of murder. Vegeta didn't really care. He was a warrior - a soldier. Always had been. He'd killed so many things... Vegeta couldn't think of murder as a crime. Murder was just a survival technique. And Dr. Briefs... No. Vegeta decided not to think about the dead man.
Despite twenty years of living under the same roof as Bulmas parents, Vegeta hadn't exactly gotten to know the people. They had avoided him. Maybe they'd been afraid of Vegeta. Maybe they'd just been addicted to their work. Maybe both. And the avoidance had been mutual. Not having been raised by his own parents, Vegeta hadn't wanted anyone else to adopt him. That would have been too much like pity. And Vegeta didn't need pity. Plus there had been the language barrier. That had made things awkward. Even when they were all speaking the same language, the Earthlings had their own way of phrasing things. The slang. The technical jargon. On the few occasions that Vegeta had spoken with Bulmas parents, he'd barely understood half of what they'd said. And then there were the chemical death sticks to consider. Vegeta had never been able to tolerate the smell for long. Mrs. Briefs had - thankfully - quit smoking in the same year that Trunks had been born. But, in Vegetas less than humble opinion, Dr. Briefs should have come with a chimney. Or an air freshener. Or something.
A flicker of energy registered in Vegetas mind. He cursed. Why THAT energy signature? Why now? Why...
"Uhm. Hey, Vegeta?" Goku had materialized in the mansion. He was out of sight, a couple of rooms over. The ki was unmistakable.
"Go away." Vegeta knew the threat would be ignored but he made it anyway. He crumpled the note in his hands and listened while the footsteps approached. He closed his eyes, silently counting out his reasons for hating the teleport technique. Reason number one: Vegeta couldn't teleport. Reason number two: Goku could. Damn. He didn't feel like dealing with anyone right now.
There was the inevitable moment of appraisal. Goku squinted down at him, trying to gauge his mood. "You all right?"
Privately, Vegeta had to admit that he'd been better. Of course, there had been times in his life when he'd also been worse. "What part of go away do I need to rephrase, Kakarotto?"
Goku had grown up on Earth. Had been raised as if human. What little Goku knew of the Saiyan world, his biological family... Goku didn't like the impressions he'd gotten. So Goku wasn't fond of his Saiyan name. Which was precisely why Vegeta enjoyed using it.
After a moment, Goku changed tactics. "Have the police already been here?"
Vegeta thought about answering that question. And then he thought about the note that was now twisted between his fingers, disintegrating. Please, the note had said. Please.
Damn.
"Enough." Videl stood on the sidewalk of a growing urban community. A steady stream of music filled the air, leaking out over the intercom of a small hydro station - most vehicles ran on water or solar power these days - across the street. The skyline of downtown West Capital City was visible in the distance. A few acres of trees and few hundred property lines were all that had kept this place from becoming yet another overcrowded suburb in an already gigantic metropolis.
Minutes ago, Videl had been on the other side of the continent. Standing in the town hall of Satan City. Listening as her friend, Fujiko - the Satan City Police Chief - gave a statement and answered questions. Watching the expressions of the people that had gathered.
It had surprised Videl that so many people had been at the town hall. She hadn't expected more than a handful of reporters to be there. Hadn't expected the nervous citizens, the concerned parents and confused children. Hadn't expected the questions to get to her. Was the Great Saiyaman a fraud, someone had asked. Did his good deeds count for nothing? Could heros be trusted? Could anyone be trusted? Would the police in Satan City be allowed to audit the police in West Capital City, make sure their reasons were solid? Make sure the evidence was legal. What if the Great Saiyaman was being framed?
Videl had stood with the crowd. She'd refused to stand on the stage, behind the podium. She hadn't wanted to be in front of the cameras. Her father was a celebrity. Which meant that by default, Videl was famous.
More than seventeen years ago, Hercule Satan had won the 24th Tenkaichi Budoukai - the worlds largest and most reputable martial arts tournament. With victory had come the right to be called by titles such as the World Martial Arts Champion and Hero of Earth. There had been four more tournaments since then: the 25th, 26th, 27th and 28th Tenkaichi Budoukais. And Hercule Satan had - with some help - won all of them. Thus his fame had multiplied. He was now often called a legend. He had been awarded the highest rank of Grand Master. Because no one else in the history of the tournament had ever won five Tenkaichi Budoukais in a row.
Videl liked her father. But she couldn't stand being asked about him, not by the media. Truth be told, the fame depressed her. Made her feel as if she hadn't done enough with her own life. As if she was living in someone elses shadow. Trapped.
She felt that way now. "Why are you here?" Videl tried not to shout at Goten and failed. "Did he send you out to protect me or what?"
Momentary anger flashed through her veins. How could Gohan do this to her? She was just trying to help, trying to investigate - and all for his sake. Her goal was to clear his name, get the charges against the Great Saiyaman dropped. She KNEW what she was doing. She'd DONE this sort of work before. Videl had been helping to solve crimes long before she'd even met Gohan. And now... Didn't he trust her at all? Didn't her own husband...
"Gohan didn't send me." When the mood struck him, Goten could deadpan with the best of them. "Believe it or not, I'm capable of acting on my own."
Videl remained suspicious. "You're not going to escort me home? You're not here to keep an eye on me?"
"The only reason I'm here," Goten said, "is because I have some questions for you."
Videl frowned. "Shoot."
"Basically, I want to know what kind of plans you have for West Capital City - what are you going to do there?"
"You expect me to believe this?" Videl huffed. "If you're not here to follow me around and keep me out of trouble then WHY do you need to know...?"
Goten scowled. "Because I thought that we could cover more ground this way. So why don't I start looking for clues at Lotus Medical Center. You start with the coporate side of Capsule Corp. We can meet up and compare notes at the police headquarters."
Videl was speechless. For approximately thirty seconds. Then she snapped, her tone full of indignant exasperation. "What is WRONG with you? You can't just... This is REAL, Goten. Not one of your video games, all right?"
"I'm not an idiot, Videl." Gotens stance was rigid. He stood a full foot taller than Videl. He'd inherited his fathers height - and his mothers backbone. When he set his mind to something...
Videl tried to reason with him. "But you've no experience with - "
"Well then maybe you should come and keep an eye on me, so that I don't miss anything and mess this up." Gotens voice had dropped to a cynical snarl. "Now are we going to stand here all day or are we going to start investigating?"
Across the street, the music had been replaced by commercials. The commercials ended. The radio DJ - who sounded far too cheerful - blurbed through the usual verbal routine. Reading off cards, probably. Reminding everyone of the time and date. Updates on local weather conditions. Updates on the latest traffic conditions in and around West Capital City. Plugging the radio station at least once every ten seconds. And then switching to another person - a more solemn voice - that began to review the news of the day. Starting with the main headline event. Dr. Briefs was dead. And his death was...
" - under investigation." The solemn voice reported. "On a related note, police believe that they may have found the body of Mrs. Victoria Briefs."
But the police wouldn't be sure, the solemn voice continued, until positive identification of the body was obtained. Without much of a hesitation or any other comments, the solemn voice skimmed through the various other headlines of the day. Banks had closed. Stocks were down. Somewhere in the world there had been a flood. Wildfires had destroyed somewhere else. According to the news of the weird, somewhere a dog - not a cat - had managed to get stuck in a tree. The dog been rescued by a random citizen in a passing aircar. Then the solemn voice was done. The cheerful radio DJ came back and the music started, again.