And here we are at the lovely chapter 9. So beautiful. Alright, I'm cracking ma knuckles and getting down to de business.

Chapter 9

Pan sat in her quarters, dangling her feet from the end of her couch and slouching lazily. Her blank eyes stared across the living room at nothing. She groaned quietly and, top heavy, let her head drag her forward and off the couch. She fell onto the floor with a thump. Silence encumbered the room, invaded soon by a dilatory exclamation:

"Ow." Pan thought of rubbing her aching head, but was too dejected to bother. She lay there, her feet caught beneath the couch and tangled strangely, her arms trapped beneath her, her face distorted as her cheek was flattened in the ground. She closed her eyes.

"Why did this have to happen?" A small drop of water tickled her nose as it slowly made its way from the corner of her eye to the left side of her lip, where it hung, suspended, despite her feeble attempts to shake it off. She was bereft of feeling now, numb to the outside world, her mind orbiting around a single thought: she wasn't in the tournament anymore. She had thrown all her energy into it from the moment she heard of it, but it didn't matter. She felt like punching something, but instead gave in to her body's needs and fell asleep.

She awoke to an incessant beeping sound. "Wha? What's happening?" She panicked and pushed herself up quickly, instantly regretting it as her head connected with the tabletop above her. "OW!" she fell down again, hitting her cheek on the padded but firm ground. She winced. Taking a deep breath to stop herself from screaming both in pain and in frustration that the stupid beeping hadn't stopped, she rose carefully and looked around.

"Stupid doorbell." Rubbing the back of her head, she stumbled over to her door, uncaring of what she looked like. She smacked at the button that manually opened the door and waited as it swished to reveal…

"Bra?"

XXXXXXXXXXPREVIOUSLYXXXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe Trunks is actually being the good guy here. Although conforming to those slimy egotistical fools at first wasn't really great…" Bra shook her head, sending her silky aqua tresses over her shoulder. After going over 'the plan' with Trunks, she had to admit it had its high points. She was sure she could have come up with a better one, given time. But time was one thing she didn't have.

She straightened her tight silver dress and checked the pocket of the leather jacket she wore over it. The sound-recording device was intact and ready to go. She adjusted the microphone, which was hidden in an ugly rhinestone ring on her right pinky. She would never wear such a gruesome piece under normal circumstances.

She had to remember to keep the microphone as close to Keebler as possible, Trunks had said. How could she do so without being conspicuous? She put the question out of her mind. She was smart; she'd come up with something. She thrived on spontaneity.

Bra arrived at her destination, looking up at the "Disco Barn" sign and shaking her head. How crude could you get? She had seen clubs in the Australian outback that were better than this (this is of course assuming that Bra has been to Australia. Work with me here). Smoothing her hair back expediently, she put her high heeled foot forward and entered the establishment.

Keebler et cetera were communing in what Trunks had said was their 'usual spot,' a booth far from any windows and crammed into a corner. She raised an eyebrow and waited. A few other people glanced in her direction uncertainly, but stopped their perusal when she glared at them. The slimy group of males continued to ignore her. --I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.-- She smirked and walked sinuously up to a greasy kid who, according to Trunks description, was Keebler. --Just the guy I was looking for.--

Keebler was talking softly, obviously imparting the bulk of a crude joke he had enjoyed immensely, when he noticed that his buddies weren't responding. They were staring, awe-struck, at something behind him.

"What is it, guys? What are you looking at?" He laughed nervously, gulped, and turned around to come face to face with a pair of legs. Silvery fabric slid along the length of them, cut off at the ankles. Keebler raised his head slowly, mouth agape, to take in curves upon curves upon curves, finally stopping on a beautiful face framed by blue waves. He gasped. She was gorgeous.

Bra rolled her eyes at his infatuation and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him up beside her. "Hey kid," she said in a low tone, "wanna dance?" She put on her best 'come hither' look and strutted onto the floor. He followed. They always did.

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Trunks sat in his room, looking at a crude intercom he had replicated and listening intently as his plan unwound. He smiled, preemptively relishing the look on Keebler's face when he found out he had been tricked. He laughed softly and bent closer. Voices came over the channel, slightly garbled, but recognizable. A slow jazz mix was droning in the background. He flipped a few switches to block the music out.

((So why have I never seen you here before?))

((I'm just visiting. I'm not in the Academy. I've been told that women just…don't have the right talents for such a venture.)) Bra gave a vulnerable sigh. Perfect! She should have been an actress.

((My thoughts exactly. Women are weak-minded. They're made to defer to men.))

((Oh, definitely. Men are so much stronger and much more experienced with complex things.))

"Come on, Bra, get to the point," Trunks hissed.

((Ahem. Have you ever done anything…wild?)) Keebler laughed.

((Me? Why of course. I'm a wild thing.)) Trunks rolled his eyes. He probably slept with a teddy bear at night!

((Well, what wild things have you done?))

((What will you give me if I tell you?))

((Oh, Keebler, I'll give you exactly what you deserve, you manly man, you.)) The unctuous boy chuckled darkly and Trunks felt his face flush with anger. That was his sister he was talking to!

((Alright. Let's go someplace more…isolated.)) Suddenly all conversation was muted beyond comprehension. The idiot was holding her hand! XLet go! Let go!X Trunks pleaded. He sat back, staring at the intercom apprehensively, and clasped his hands tightly together.

A long time passed, interrupted by a few mumbling sounds, when they were suddenly reconnected. XWhat does that baka have in his hand, a metal plate?X After listening a while, Trunks deduced that Keebler hadn't said it yet. He breathed a sigh of relief.

((That was a pretty wild thing to do, Keebler. But haven't you done anything really WILD wild?)) Bra was exasperated. It seemed Keebler had related to her a myriad irrelevant stories the entire time the channel was out. Trunks almost felt sorry for her.

((WILD wild? Um…I dunno…))

((I mean, have you ever…broken the law?)) She said the latter three words in a low tone, tempting Keebler as much as she could. Trunks crossed his fingers, hoping he would take the bait.

((I did do something just this past week that was kinda illegal. Well, not illegal per se, but wild!))

((Tell me the whole story.))

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"Tell me the whole story." Bra slid closer to Keebler, suppressing her revulsion and placing her hand on his shoulder. --I hope this works.--

"Well, it all started when our scapegoat began thinkin' fer himself. We hadda put him in his place, y'know? So we thought, what better way than an initiation? He'd been showing interest fer this new girl, an Argonaut, and so we decided to get him to publicly humiliate 'er to assure his loyalty. But he messed up, and the Argonaut made us kinda angry, y'know? Natcherly, we hadda get back at 'er. So we did the greatest thing." He bared his teeth in what he obviously assumed was a smile. "We framed her. It was perfect; we had our boy get into a fight wit 'er, and the authorities suspended 'er from the games! Ain't it great? She was workin' so hard. No more tournament fer her!" He laughed then, a cutting, shrill giggle, and Bra stood.

"You've said enough, sweetpea. And don't worry, you'll get a job at a concession stand er something. Tataa!" She trotted off, leaving an uncomprehending Keebler behind.

"Hate to see ya leave, love to watch you go," the fool said, and snickered as if he had made the funniest joke on the planet.

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"Hey, chica! Guess what? You're not confined to your quarters anymore. The case has been reviewed and they've found you're not entirely at fault! The superintendent sent me to summon you. Come on, you'll be late! Tons of people are gathered for the meeting! You'll be able to fight after all!" She grabbed Pan's arm and dragged her off. Bra would never change. Pan smiled weakly.

As the two friends approached the Academy's administration building, Pan noticed a relatively large gathering of people standing in front of the entrance. They were chanting something, and as Pan walked closer, the words became defined.

"Let Pan play! Let Pan play!" they shouted at the top of their lungs. Pan stared at the protest group, dumbstruck. She didn't even know these people.

"Word got around about your predicament," Bra said softly. "As you can see, almost everyone is sympathizing with you." Bra led her forward, entering the space the crowd was domineering. They split instantly, allowing passage, all the while giving cheers of encouragement to Pan. Her face was split in a grin of elation (she almost did the 'you love me! You really love me!' speech then and there, but decided against it at the last moment).

Bra opened the door for her and ushered her in. The cries of fortification were muted, and finally were ceased to Pan's ears, leaving behind them the same emptiness she had felt before. She hadn't the nerve to walk up to the superintendent alone. What could she do to sway his judgment should he see her unfit to play, and hang the idea that it wasn't her fault? She grimaced at the self-deprecating turn her thoughts were taking and focused instead on Bra's constant chatter. Pan had missed the pleasant buzz Bra's voice instilled in her head when she talked.

After some time of walking through endless, unchanging corridors, they came upon the door to the main courtroom (they knew this because underneath it, in big bold letters, it said 'MAIN COURTROOM'). Upon entrance, Pan heard a whiny, protesting voice railing on about something. She raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and listened, watching the kid's back as he stood before the superintendent.

"It was all fun and games, sir. Yous done that before, huh, sir? I mean, we didn't want to hurt 'er er anything like that. I mean, really, sir, have you no faith in me?" The overbearing and darkly wise man who occupied the judge's seat looked down at the kid suspiciously. When he spoke, his voice was deep and held the confidence that only time could give a man. This was the Academy superintendent.

"Not really, Keebler. You have stated your defense, please sit." Keebler bowed and scraped, backing up slowly and knocking his chair over.

"Sorry, sir. Sorry. Forgive my clumsiness, your highn…er, sir." The worm finally sat, and the bailiff whispered something in the superintendent's ear. He looked up at Pan and nodded. The bailiff stood off to one side and spoke.

"The court of the Chikyu-Saiyan Space Fleet Academy, honor of the people, servant of the great Vegeta, and the flame of knowledge, calls Pan Son, daughter to Gohan and Videl Son, Lieutenants on the pride of CSSF, the Argo, to the stand." He read off the long list in a monotone, finishing by gasping air into his mouth loudly and sitting importantly in his little chair. Pan squelched the butterflies that were attacking her innards with machine guns and machetes and stepped forward along the aisle, her face straight. She ignored the spectators and arrived at the bench with quiet dignity.

"Pan Son, accusations were made against you concerning a phyisical attack in the mess hall. Witnesses disagreed as to what actually happened. Some said that you attacked Trunks Briefs with the unlawful intention of harming him. Others stated that you attacked him only to defend yourself. Following intensive investigation, we have learned that one set of witnesses were lying in order to reduce your honor and frame you. An anonymous person sent in an audio tape that he requested we listen to." Pan frowned. Anonymous person?

"To summarize, the contents of the tape involved Keebler here stating his guilt, Trunks' innocence, your innocence, and his own incompetence." Pan was relieved, but sensed that the superintendent wasn't telling her everything. She waited.

"Pan Son, it has been asserted by the authorities that although you were framed and forced to fight, you participated in an act that is illegal and requires some form of punishment. They argue that letting you off, which, by the way, is what I believe to be the right thing to do, would give other offenders the impression that they could also brawl and not be punished. Therefore I have devised a reprimand that will be sufficient to your situation. You will be allowed only one fight in the tournament. That fight will be against a person of your choosing, and when he or she is at their highest level. Therefore, if you choose the person who defeats all others, and defeat him, you will be named the champion. However, you must choose this person before you know if he or she wins. You must choose now." He looked at her expectantly. This was her chance. She could still prove herself to everyone.

"I thank you, sir, for your wealth of understanding in judgment. The person I choose to fight in the tournament is," she paused for dramatic effect, "Trunks Briefs." The superintendent nodded and stood.

"This court is now adjourned." The crowd erupted in chatter. Keebler stood before his parents with a pout, complaining in loud tones. Bra hugged and congratulated her. And Trunks—the one who had forced her through this ordeal---was sitting quietly, staring at her. She was going to fight him and make him pay for what he'd done. Why was he not given the same reprimand she was forced to have? He was not innocent, of that she was sure. She would punish him dearly. He would not find himself removed from guilt so easily.

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Trunks watched Pan leave sadly. He had done all he could for her, and yet it wasn't enough. Vegeta had forced the superintendent to allow Trunks back into the tournament. He didn't like it, though. He was more at fault than Pan. He had attacked! He groaned and rubbed his head. This was getting too complicated. He knew what he had to do, though. He had to win. Only then would she have a shot at the championship. It was all for her, now.

All for Pan.

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Alright, people, you know the drill. Oh, look, what is that convenient little box down there? What does it say? Review!