Hey! No, I haven't died, yet anyway. But for my few but loyal reviewers, I
locked myself in my room until I had this chapter finished! Enjoy!!!
Disclaimer: No I don't own this. I only own my bolder, and even that's suing me for custody rights. Aww, it's just sore because I didn't take it for its walk yesterday.
****************************************************************** Eighteen walked down the main grand stairwell, steps unheard because of the soft royal blue carpeting. She gave a sigh of relief upon entering the main living room because it had taken her 20 minutes longer than necessary to get there.
"Too many damn rooms," she muttered, plopping on an overstuffed sofa. She preferred the two-floored island home. It was just the right size for her family of three; no one ever got lost, with the exception of infamous Turtle Hermit when he 'accidentally' wandered into the bathroom while she was occupying it; and because of the small house, it didn't promote get- togethers like these. If Goku and Krillin weren't good childhood friends, she wouldn't have come. After breaking up with Trunks, she doubted that Marron was totally thrilled to be making an appearance either. But she was curious about the girl.
"AHHH! Hey, that dress was new!"
"I said get back-" The sound of an antique china plate smashing into pieces caught Eighteen's attention. She stood and proceeded to enter the kitchen through the double doors (at least she hoped the kitchen was behind the double doors) but with her intensified hearing, she picked up a low growl. Following the sound, she spotted an easel with a canvas upon it, all the way across the ridiculously sized living room in front of a big bay window. Approaching carefully, Eighteen saw that Videl was behind the easel. She was very wrapped up in a painting, her light blue eyes squinting in concentration while she twirled a paintbrush. After a few terse minutes, she made three deliberate strokes with it. A look of satisfaction followed by a smirk. Eighteen turned not wanting to disturb her but was stopped as she let out a sneeze. Videl was abruptly shaken from her task at hand.
"You scared the crap out of me!" always stoical, Eighteen crossed her arms.
"My bad, I just didn't know that you painted."
"Well it was just something on the side when Pan started going to school and things got quiet and boring around the house. It's very relaxing."
"Good for a situation like this."
"Yeah." The raven- haired beauty stood and stretched. Anyone she just met would think that she was Pan's elder by two years or so, not her mother, 20 years her senior.
Another wine glass shattered against the kitchen floor, its echo resonating into the spacious room they were occupying, followed by shrieks, then silence.
"I wish they would keep it down in there, whatever they're doing."
"You mean you haven't gone in?"
"After marrying into this group of family and friends, I've learned to open my paints in a time of crisis, keep my ears open, my spirits up, and never, ever enter a room that Bulma Briefs is occupying when there's the sound of broken dishes."
"Good advice. Um- may I see your painting?" Videl was to say the least taken aback. She had started this hobby when Pan was six, and not once had anyone known or cared about her paintings.
"Uh sure." She held her breath awaiting criticism. The paintbrush was rolled between her thumb and forefinger nervously. Eighteen's eyes widened in shock. It was the girl, after she had transformed. The golden aura had made her look like an angel. The hair was almost exact, but something was missing. Overall, the painting was so real, so alive, she felt that she had been there when she transformed. And Videl had gotten her eyes just right. They looked so distressing as if untold tragedy was part of her being. It made part of Eighteen want to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright, even if it wouldn't, like when Marron had come home crying after her breakup with Trunks.
When she didn't answer, Videl became nervous. "I-I know it doesn't have a background yet or anything, and the colors are flat."
"It's beautiful." For the first time, the android was silent, not by choice but by the breathtaking beauty of the artwork. "Don't change anything. The hair-"
"I know, I couldn't get it right."
"I was going to say that the greatest artist in the world couldn't capture the luminescence of her hair. The picture looks professional. And you've never had a lesson?"
"Well, no."
"Incredible. Videl, you should share your paintings. I would like to see more."
"You honestly think so?" Eighteen nodded "I have a private studio- well I work on and keep all my paintings in the garage and pretend it's a studio."
"I know that you would do well." The two women shared a warm moment, one that would result in secret smiles, knowing glances, and a life-long friendship.
The clatter of cabinets and a golden glow coming from the room ended the silence. Videl started to pack up her paints.
"Well I'm going to find a better place to paint. Good luck."
"Thanks." Eighteen walked through the double doors that with any luck would lead to the kitchen. ************************************************************************
The gravity room had survived another day of Vegeta training. With the GR set to zero, it's two main tormentors rested on the floor, cut, bruised, and bloodied. With a little bit of pain, possibly from a bruised rib, Pan pushed herself up to a sitting position.
"Some workout, eh?"
"Actually, I've seen better from you." A less beaten Vegeta managed to stand, and crossed his muscular arms.
"I know. We trained at 200 g's, but it felt heavier than usual."
"Stop making excuses for yourself brat. Something's on your mind, and it distracted you." Pan looked down and silently cursed. How did he always know so much about what was bothering her? It was he who made her admit her feelings for Marron, and told her she shouldn't feel ashamed, though Pan could never tell her.
"It's about that new girl."
"Kami! Don't tell me you have a crush on her too!" Pan blushed ferociously, so much blood rushing to her cheeks she thought they would explode.
"Vegeta, I didn't say that!" She fought to control her breathing.
The Prince merely chuckled. It never failed to amuse him at how such a strong girl, physically and personality-wise, could be reduced to a panting, blushing, trembling pathetic child with breasts. 'It's probably those annoying human genes the hybrids have', he thought.
She stood up, her face no longer red with embarrassment, but with anger. "I never said that Vegeta. I choose to confide in you because I thought I could trust you with my secret. I thought you would be honorable enough to not exploit my feelings for Marron. You can't mention it so casually, no other soul knows." That comment about honor got to Vegeta, as she knew it would.
"I am too honorable, onna!" Pan couldn't help but laugh. He sounded like Bra when she didn't get her way. "Whatever, brat. So why is the girl on your mind?"
" I'm just so curious about another female saiyan. She's older, I think, and she might be stronger, but I doubt it." At that Vegeta chuckled. She could be so saiyan at times. " And I'd like to fight her."
"That would be interesting. It would be even more interesting if you did like her. Imagine, what if she is from the future and you both got attracted. When she left you both of you would be heart and soul broken."
"Poor Trunks then"
"Yes," he hissed. "That brat is setting himself up." He scowled and after a few minutes of silence, it turned into a smirk. "It would have been interesting to see you and her mate though. Female saiyans in heat are very amorous and horny, twice as so as the men. You two would never make it out of bed!"
Pan's once fading blush returned full force. "Vegeta, would you please stop talking about stuff like that?"
"Why not? You're 16. Grow up. Like you never think about sex." Pan's eyes became as big as saucers.
"I an so not having this conversation with you of all people."
"Would you rather have it with Marron?" Pan was no longer discussing the topic. She buried her face in her hands and did not look up.
Vegeta sighed. "I'll go get the girl, brat. Be ready to fight a saiyan female. ************************************************************************
Ironically enough, the double doors did not lead to the kitchen. This extremely angered the android, and after ten more minutes of aimless searching, Eighteen doubled back to the living room, then blasted a hole through the wall- her only obstacle to the kitchen. As she was climbing through the wall Vegeta entered through the back door. He barely glanced at the Eighteen sized hole in the wall. Bulma was to say the least 'more expressive' with her feelings.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You needed a door there anyway. Most people have doorways to connect adjoining rooms, or at least I've heard." She absently brushed a stray strand of pale cornstalk hair out of her face, obviously unaffected by the hostility in Bulma's voice. "And shouldn't I be asking what you're doing?" She nodded in the direction of the newly renovated kitchen.
It was only a mess if you cocked your head to the side and squinted really hard. The inside of the fine oak cabinets was exposed because of cracked or missing doors, a few barley swinging by their hinges. It didn't matter because most of what the cabinets once held was on the floor; china plates, bulky gold chalices that were never used, her favorite crystal wine glasses, all shattered, most beyond recognition. The few chairs and a table were toppled over. Well, the table looked as though it was pushed over for protection, somewhat like a makeshift fort. Besides dishes and cabinet doors, dust covered the black marble floors, making it a charcoal gray. And in the middle of it were Bra and the mystery girl, ensnared within each other's grasp wrestling. The blonde had Bra in a choke hold, and Bra had her in an equally painful vice, pulling her hair, all the while mumbling about 'split ends', and 'needs conditioner.'
Vegeta looked remarkably calm and placid as he yelled, "WHAT THE HELL ONNA!"
"He, he," was all the genius who always had something to say was able to squeak out at the moment. Vegeta just humped.
"Brat, get off my daughter or answer to me." The girl quickly complied, shoving Bra off of her and jumping off what remained of the poor, abused piece of furniture. "Now follow me. Pan wants to fight you." Vegeta made no acknowledgement to the android or his mate, but simply exited out the back door. Lunch was obviously out of the question. The girl picked up her sword, and followed the temperamental saiyan. She didn't have to know him long to know that he wasn't one to be kept waiting.
Bra slid off the table, dusting herself off and left through a doorway grumbling about cosmetics and a change of clothes
The two women in the kitchen alone just looked at one another in silence for five minutes. "Let's never speak of this again."
"Agreed." Eighteen replied, and she climbed back through her impromptu doorway, leaving Bulma to figure out how to clean up the mess, how Chi-Chi was going to make dinner, and whether even she, the richest woman in the world had enough money to order pizza for seven humans and eight saiyans. ************************************************************************
"SHE DID WHAT!!!" Chi-Chi's scream felt too loud and large for even the spacious kitchen.
"Well Chi, things got out of hand. It looks worse than it really is," Bulma lied through her teeth."
"I'll say!"
Yamcha who stood at the opposite end of the kitchen away from the back door, clamped his hand over his ears. He had to listen to that noise for two hours. She always found some obscure reason to yell at him, like, 'Yamcha put that down', or, 'Leave that girl at the cash register alone', and, 'Don't touch my ass Yamcha!.' Dumb petty stuff like that. 'Damn,' he thought, 'she's still talking. I've got to get away before she notices me or Bulma gives me some stupid chore to do again.' He frantically looked for an exit. Not caring where it led, and stepping over broken plates and chairs he slunk through the nearest passageway. ************************************************************************
Vegeta walked into his room of solace. He smirked, proud that Pan had risen from her knees and stood to face her opponent. The blonde soon followed, her sword sheathed on her back. Pan turned the gravity up to 50g's, thinking she had never experienced a GR room before. The girl swayed under the sudden pressure then braced herself. Vegeta eyed her warily.
"Brat, stop acting. You've trained in a gravity room since for at least the last five years of your life." She grinned sheepishly.
"You caught me Vegeta. How?"
"You have your secrets. I have mine. Pan turn it up to 300." He threw her a sensu bean. "Might as well make it a fair fight." The girl unsheathed her sword, deftly tossing it to each hand, then getting into a fighting position.
"I would have it no other way." Pan, now fully generated did the same.
"As would I, blondie. Let's get this party started." ************************************************************************
"Hello? Tony's Pizza? Please hold? Okay." Bulma was reclined on one of her favorite chairs in her personal sector of her lab. She kept a room there for when she had to pull all-nighters and was too tired to find her room. Next to her was Chi-Chi, much calmer due to a tea Bulma had prepared over a Benson burner, another technique developed spending nights asleep at the console.
"Hey? Okay, I would like 220 pizzas please. Hold again? Okay." The very faint sounds of robots laboriously cleaning the kitchen could be heard from where she sat. "Thank Kami for science and technology," she muttered. But the 'cleaning' was basically throwing everything broken out. Oh well. That meant furniture shopping! She squealed at the thought, nearly dropping the phone and waking Chi- Chi who had fallen asleep.
"Hello? Yes? No, this is not a joke! What? Look buster, you're pushing it! Do you know who you're talking to? Bulma Briefs, that's who! Stop laughing you jerk, I have eight saiyans to feed! I'll make sure I'll never order form you guys again! Ever!" Bulma clicked off her cordless phone, and threw it. Chi-Chi caught it with minimal effort. It was her turn to be calm.
"I'm taking it that they laughed at you again?"
"Yes," she pouted, "That was the sixth one!" Chi-Chi looked through the phone book.
"How about I try this time, and you have some calming tea?" Chi- Chi poured a tiny cup, then gave Bulma the rest of the post.
"Ha, ha," the blue haired beauty replied sordidly. But she removed the lid and began to sip. Chi-Chi dialed.
"Hello? San Gorgio's Pizza? Hi doll, I'm a receptionist for the Capsule Corporation." Bulma's eyes widened at Chi-Chi's seductive tone. "We're having a luncheon today, and all of our cooks got ill with the palynokimetian flu. Never heard of it? Very rare. So with such a large order, we could think of no other pizza shop competent enough to handle it. I would like 20 mushroom, 20 onion and green pepper, 60 cheese, 60 pepperoni, and 60 sausage pizzas, all extra large. Oh you're such a sweetie, so nice. How much will that be? Okay. Get it here in an hour and we'll throw in a $50-dollar tip! Thank you so much. What? No, sorry dear, I'm taken and I have the ring to prove it. Bye-bye now."
Chi-chi smiled. "They'll be here in an hour, have $1,810 ready." Bulma was snoring, teapot in hand. ************************************************************************
Vegeta stood there, dark brooding unreadable eyes contrasting with the white walls of his sacred temple. At that moment with his muscular arms crossed, he seemed as impassable and impenetrable as a mountain. And he was, because he was watching the most spectacular sight that no other saiya- jin could boast to have witnessed it. Two female super saiyans were fighting in his GR room.
For a while, neither girl moved the power around them sporadically causing lightning. Their blonde spiked hair stiffened, some strands defying gravity. Aqua eyes peered at each other relentlessly, searching, for what? A weakness, fear perhaps? No. They were waiting. Then, an unseen, unheard signal was given and they began to fight fervently.
When they first started, they were goofing around, sizing each other up and they both knew it. But the fight had turned serious now that they realized they were so alike, in skill, struggles, and personality. And for the remainder of this fight one would resent the other with equal fervor.
So they continued to fight, blow for blow, blocking, and each waiting for the other to tire or get sloppy defensively. But it never happened. So they still fought regardless of how long and the toll it took on their teenage bodies, neither consenting nor conceding, neither ready to admit how tired they were after two hours strait of sparring with the only break being when they powered up to SS1. And Kami knew that both would rather have their fingernails pulled out one by one than to request a draw.
Their saiyan prince stared on, completely awed as he felt his heritage come alive again. Watching Pan fight brought him great pride, but seeing the blonde fight stirred his soul. For a minute, he was in the palace halls where he spent his premature youth. In all of his nostalgia, Vegeta failed to detect their rapidly fading ki.
The two girls were about to pass out from exertion if they kept their SS1 forms a minute longer. But Vegeta was reminiscing, almost hallucinating. He ran down the palace halls, his destination unknown. He heard a voice, it was his mother's. "Vegeta!" she called. He tried to face her but no matter how he turned, he couldn't see directly behind him, where she was located. He kept running. "Vegeta, do not let your pride overtake you! It will poison you! Let me save you now, as I failed to so long ago!" He tried to go back to her, to be her little boy again, but Freiza pushed her and stood in his path. "Mother!" he cried. "Vegeta," she wailed as she fell into the darkness, his only glimpse of her being her tan skin and stringy hair. "Vegeta! Vegeta . . . "
"Vegeta! Pan! Dinner is here! The call for food ended the fight and Vegeta's vision. Now he knew for sure. But just as he felt the vision, he also felt compelled to wait for the right time. He finally noticed the girls who dropped from SS1, silently thanking Bulma. The three saiyan-jins left the white fighting temple, forgetting to shut off the gravity, each putting their culture aside in lieu of food.
******************************************************************
How was that for a bedroom recluse? In my fit of diligence, not only did I start and finish chapter six, but I also started a new fic. Aren't I great! Keep your eyes peeled. Actually, doesn't that sound disgusting? So just keep looking for a new Pan drama. I know, I know, aren't there enough? But I promise it will be very different. I'll post it the same time as chapter six. I'm so excited. Please check it out! All right, back to my bolder to check for reviews. Ja ne!
Disclaimer: No I don't own this. I only own my bolder, and even that's suing me for custody rights. Aww, it's just sore because I didn't take it for its walk yesterday.
****************************************************************** Eighteen walked down the main grand stairwell, steps unheard because of the soft royal blue carpeting. She gave a sigh of relief upon entering the main living room because it had taken her 20 minutes longer than necessary to get there.
"Too many damn rooms," she muttered, plopping on an overstuffed sofa. She preferred the two-floored island home. It was just the right size for her family of three; no one ever got lost, with the exception of infamous Turtle Hermit when he 'accidentally' wandered into the bathroom while she was occupying it; and because of the small house, it didn't promote get- togethers like these. If Goku and Krillin weren't good childhood friends, she wouldn't have come. After breaking up with Trunks, she doubted that Marron was totally thrilled to be making an appearance either. But she was curious about the girl.
"AHHH! Hey, that dress was new!"
"I said get back-" The sound of an antique china plate smashing into pieces caught Eighteen's attention. She stood and proceeded to enter the kitchen through the double doors (at least she hoped the kitchen was behind the double doors) but with her intensified hearing, she picked up a low growl. Following the sound, she spotted an easel with a canvas upon it, all the way across the ridiculously sized living room in front of a big bay window. Approaching carefully, Eighteen saw that Videl was behind the easel. She was very wrapped up in a painting, her light blue eyes squinting in concentration while she twirled a paintbrush. After a few terse minutes, she made three deliberate strokes with it. A look of satisfaction followed by a smirk. Eighteen turned not wanting to disturb her but was stopped as she let out a sneeze. Videl was abruptly shaken from her task at hand.
"You scared the crap out of me!" always stoical, Eighteen crossed her arms.
"My bad, I just didn't know that you painted."
"Well it was just something on the side when Pan started going to school and things got quiet and boring around the house. It's very relaxing."
"Good for a situation like this."
"Yeah." The raven- haired beauty stood and stretched. Anyone she just met would think that she was Pan's elder by two years or so, not her mother, 20 years her senior.
Another wine glass shattered against the kitchen floor, its echo resonating into the spacious room they were occupying, followed by shrieks, then silence.
"I wish they would keep it down in there, whatever they're doing."
"You mean you haven't gone in?"
"After marrying into this group of family and friends, I've learned to open my paints in a time of crisis, keep my ears open, my spirits up, and never, ever enter a room that Bulma Briefs is occupying when there's the sound of broken dishes."
"Good advice. Um- may I see your painting?" Videl was to say the least taken aback. She had started this hobby when Pan was six, and not once had anyone known or cared about her paintings.
"Uh sure." She held her breath awaiting criticism. The paintbrush was rolled between her thumb and forefinger nervously. Eighteen's eyes widened in shock. It was the girl, after she had transformed. The golden aura had made her look like an angel. The hair was almost exact, but something was missing. Overall, the painting was so real, so alive, she felt that she had been there when she transformed. And Videl had gotten her eyes just right. They looked so distressing as if untold tragedy was part of her being. It made part of Eighteen want to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright, even if it wouldn't, like when Marron had come home crying after her breakup with Trunks.
When she didn't answer, Videl became nervous. "I-I know it doesn't have a background yet or anything, and the colors are flat."
"It's beautiful." For the first time, the android was silent, not by choice but by the breathtaking beauty of the artwork. "Don't change anything. The hair-"
"I know, I couldn't get it right."
"I was going to say that the greatest artist in the world couldn't capture the luminescence of her hair. The picture looks professional. And you've never had a lesson?"
"Well, no."
"Incredible. Videl, you should share your paintings. I would like to see more."
"You honestly think so?" Eighteen nodded "I have a private studio- well I work on and keep all my paintings in the garage and pretend it's a studio."
"I know that you would do well." The two women shared a warm moment, one that would result in secret smiles, knowing glances, and a life-long friendship.
The clatter of cabinets and a golden glow coming from the room ended the silence. Videl started to pack up her paints.
"Well I'm going to find a better place to paint. Good luck."
"Thanks." Eighteen walked through the double doors that with any luck would lead to the kitchen. ************************************************************************
The gravity room had survived another day of Vegeta training. With the GR set to zero, it's two main tormentors rested on the floor, cut, bruised, and bloodied. With a little bit of pain, possibly from a bruised rib, Pan pushed herself up to a sitting position.
"Some workout, eh?"
"Actually, I've seen better from you." A less beaten Vegeta managed to stand, and crossed his muscular arms.
"I know. We trained at 200 g's, but it felt heavier than usual."
"Stop making excuses for yourself brat. Something's on your mind, and it distracted you." Pan looked down and silently cursed. How did he always know so much about what was bothering her? It was he who made her admit her feelings for Marron, and told her she shouldn't feel ashamed, though Pan could never tell her.
"It's about that new girl."
"Kami! Don't tell me you have a crush on her too!" Pan blushed ferociously, so much blood rushing to her cheeks she thought they would explode.
"Vegeta, I didn't say that!" She fought to control her breathing.
The Prince merely chuckled. It never failed to amuse him at how such a strong girl, physically and personality-wise, could be reduced to a panting, blushing, trembling pathetic child with breasts. 'It's probably those annoying human genes the hybrids have', he thought.
She stood up, her face no longer red with embarrassment, but with anger. "I never said that Vegeta. I choose to confide in you because I thought I could trust you with my secret. I thought you would be honorable enough to not exploit my feelings for Marron. You can't mention it so casually, no other soul knows." That comment about honor got to Vegeta, as she knew it would.
"I am too honorable, onna!" Pan couldn't help but laugh. He sounded like Bra when she didn't get her way. "Whatever, brat. So why is the girl on your mind?"
" I'm just so curious about another female saiyan. She's older, I think, and she might be stronger, but I doubt it." At that Vegeta chuckled. She could be so saiyan at times. " And I'd like to fight her."
"That would be interesting. It would be even more interesting if you did like her. Imagine, what if she is from the future and you both got attracted. When she left you both of you would be heart and soul broken."
"Poor Trunks then"
"Yes," he hissed. "That brat is setting himself up." He scowled and after a few minutes of silence, it turned into a smirk. "It would have been interesting to see you and her mate though. Female saiyans in heat are very amorous and horny, twice as so as the men. You two would never make it out of bed!"
Pan's once fading blush returned full force. "Vegeta, would you please stop talking about stuff like that?"
"Why not? You're 16. Grow up. Like you never think about sex." Pan's eyes became as big as saucers.
"I an so not having this conversation with you of all people."
"Would you rather have it with Marron?" Pan was no longer discussing the topic. She buried her face in her hands and did not look up.
Vegeta sighed. "I'll go get the girl, brat. Be ready to fight a saiyan female. ************************************************************************
Ironically enough, the double doors did not lead to the kitchen. This extremely angered the android, and after ten more minutes of aimless searching, Eighteen doubled back to the living room, then blasted a hole through the wall- her only obstacle to the kitchen. As she was climbing through the wall Vegeta entered through the back door. He barely glanced at the Eighteen sized hole in the wall. Bulma was to say the least 'more expressive' with her feelings.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You needed a door there anyway. Most people have doorways to connect adjoining rooms, or at least I've heard." She absently brushed a stray strand of pale cornstalk hair out of her face, obviously unaffected by the hostility in Bulma's voice. "And shouldn't I be asking what you're doing?" She nodded in the direction of the newly renovated kitchen.
It was only a mess if you cocked your head to the side and squinted really hard. The inside of the fine oak cabinets was exposed because of cracked or missing doors, a few barley swinging by their hinges. It didn't matter because most of what the cabinets once held was on the floor; china plates, bulky gold chalices that were never used, her favorite crystal wine glasses, all shattered, most beyond recognition. The few chairs and a table were toppled over. Well, the table looked as though it was pushed over for protection, somewhat like a makeshift fort. Besides dishes and cabinet doors, dust covered the black marble floors, making it a charcoal gray. And in the middle of it were Bra and the mystery girl, ensnared within each other's grasp wrestling. The blonde had Bra in a choke hold, and Bra had her in an equally painful vice, pulling her hair, all the while mumbling about 'split ends', and 'needs conditioner.'
Vegeta looked remarkably calm and placid as he yelled, "WHAT THE HELL ONNA!"
"He, he," was all the genius who always had something to say was able to squeak out at the moment. Vegeta just humped.
"Brat, get off my daughter or answer to me." The girl quickly complied, shoving Bra off of her and jumping off what remained of the poor, abused piece of furniture. "Now follow me. Pan wants to fight you." Vegeta made no acknowledgement to the android or his mate, but simply exited out the back door. Lunch was obviously out of the question. The girl picked up her sword, and followed the temperamental saiyan. She didn't have to know him long to know that he wasn't one to be kept waiting.
Bra slid off the table, dusting herself off and left through a doorway grumbling about cosmetics and a change of clothes
The two women in the kitchen alone just looked at one another in silence for five minutes. "Let's never speak of this again."
"Agreed." Eighteen replied, and she climbed back through her impromptu doorway, leaving Bulma to figure out how to clean up the mess, how Chi-Chi was going to make dinner, and whether even she, the richest woman in the world had enough money to order pizza for seven humans and eight saiyans. ************************************************************************
"SHE DID WHAT!!!" Chi-Chi's scream felt too loud and large for even the spacious kitchen.
"Well Chi, things got out of hand. It looks worse than it really is," Bulma lied through her teeth."
"I'll say!"
Yamcha who stood at the opposite end of the kitchen away from the back door, clamped his hand over his ears. He had to listen to that noise for two hours. She always found some obscure reason to yell at him, like, 'Yamcha put that down', or, 'Leave that girl at the cash register alone', and, 'Don't touch my ass Yamcha!.' Dumb petty stuff like that. 'Damn,' he thought, 'she's still talking. I've got to get away before she notices me or Bulma gives me some stupid chore to do again.' He frantically looked for an exit. Not caring where it led, and stepping over broken plates and chairs he slunk through the nearest passageway. ************************************************************************
Vegeta walked into his room of solace. He smirked, proud that Pan had risen from her knees and stood to face her opponent. The blonde soon followed, her sword sheathed on her back. Pan turned the gravity up to 50g's, thinking she had never experienced a GR room before. The girl swayed under the sudden pressure then braced herself. Vegeta eyed her warily.
"Brat, stop acting. You've trained in a gravity room since for at least the last five years of your life." She grinned sheepishly.
"You caught me Vegeta. How?"
"You have your secrets. I have mine. Pan turn it up to 300." He threw her a sensu bean. "Might as well make it a fair fight." The girl unsheathed her sword, deftly tossing it to each hand, then getting into a fighting position.
"I would have it no other way." Pan, now fully generated did the same.
"As would I, blondie. Let's get this party started." ************************************************************************
"Hello? Tony's Pizza? Please hold? Okay." Bulma was reclined on one of her favorite chairs in her personal sector of her lab. She kept a room there for when she had to pull all-nighters and was too tired to find her room. Next to her was Chi-Chi, much calmer due to a tea Bulma had prepared over a Benson burner, another technique developed spending nights asleep at the console.
"Hey? Okay, I would like 220 pizzas please. Hold again? Okay." The very faint sounds of robots laboriously cleaning the kitchen could be heard from where she sat. "Thank Kami for science and technology," she muttered. But the 'cleaning' was basically throwing everything broken out. Oh well. That meant furniture shopping! She squealed at the thought, nearly dropping the phone and waking Chi- Chi who had fallen asleep.
"Hello? Yes? No, this is not a joke! What? Look buster, you're pushing it! Do you know who you're talking to? Bulma Briefs, that's who! Stop laughing you jerk, I have eight saiyans to feed! I'll make sure I'll never order form you guys again! Ever!" Bulma clicked off her cordless phone, and threw it. Chi-Chi caught it with minimal effort. It was her turn to be calm.
"I'm taking it that they laughed at you again?"
"Yes," she pouted, "That was the sixth one!" Chi-Chi looked through the phone book.
"How about I try this time, and you have some calming tea?" Chi- Chi poured a tiny cup, then gave Bulma the rest of the post.
"Ha, ha," the blue haired beauty replied sordidly. But she removed the lid and began to sip. Chi-Chi dialed.
"Hello? San Gorgio's Pizza? Hi doll, I'm a receptionist for the Capsule Corporation." Bulma's eyes widened at Chi-Chi's seductive tone. "We're having a luncheon today, and all of our cooks got ill with the palynokimetian flu. Never heard of it? Very rare. So with such a large order, we could think of no other pizza shop competent enough to handle it. I would like 20 mushroom, 20 onion and green pepper, 60 cheese, 60 pepperoni, and 60 sausage pizzas, all extra large. Oh you're such a sweetie, so nice. How much will that be? Okay. Get it here in an hour and we'll throw in a $50-dollar tip! Thank you so much. What? No, sorry dear, I'm taken and I have the ring to prove it. Bye-bye now."
Chi-chi smiled. "They'll be here in an hour, have $1,810 ready." Bulma was snoring, teapot in hand. ************************************************************************
Vegeta stood there, dark brooding unreadable eyes contrasting with the white walls of his sacred temple. At that moment with his muscular arms crossed, he seemed as impassable and impenetrable as a mountain. And he was, because he was watching the most spectacular sight that no other saiya- jin could boast to have witnessed it. Two female super saiyans were fighting in his GR room.
For a while, neither girl moved the power around them sporadically causing lightning. Their blonde spiked hair stiffened, some strands defying gravity. Aqua eyes peered at each other relentlessly, searching, for what? A weakness, fear perhaps? No. They were waiting. Then, an unseen, unheard signal was given and they began to fight fervently.
When they first started, they were goofing around, sizing each other up and they both knew it. But the fight had turned serious now that they realized they were so alike, in skill, struggles, and personality. And for the remainder of this fight one would resent the other with equal fervor.
So they continued to fight, blow for blow, blocking, and each waiting for the other to tire or get sloppy defensively. But it never happened. So they still fought regardless of how long and the toll it took on their teenage bodies, neither consenting nor conceding, neither ready to admit how tired they were after two hours strait of sparring with the only break being when they powered up to SS1. And Kami knew that both would rather have their fingernails pulled out one by one than to request a draw.
Their saiyan prince stared on, completely awed as he felt his heritage come alive again. Watching Pan fight brought him great pride, but seeing the blonde fight stirred his soul. For a minute, he was in the palace halls where he spent his premature youth. In all of his nostalgia, Vegeta failed to detect their rapidly fading ki.
The two girls were about to pass out from exertion if they kept their SS1 forms a minute longer. But Vegeta was reminiscing, almost hallucinating. He ran down the palace halls, his destination unknown. He heard a voice, it was his mother's. "Vegeta!" she called. He tried to face her but no matter how he turned, he couldn't see directly behind him, where she was located. He kept running. "Vegeta, do not let your pride overtake you! It will poison you! Let me save you now, as I failed to so long ago!" He tried to go back to her, to be her little boy again, but Freiza pushed her and stood in his path. "Mother!" he cried. "Vegeta," she wailed as she fell into the darkness, his only glimpse of her being her tan skin and stringy hair. "Vegeta! Vegeta . . . "
"Vegeta! Pan! Dinner is here! The call for food ended the fight and Vegeta's vision. Now he knew for sure. But just as he felt the vision, he also felt compelled to wait for the right time. He finally noticed the girls who dropped from SS1, silently thanking Bulma. The three saiyan-jins left the white fighting temple, forgetting to shut off the gravity, each putting their culture aside in lieu of food.
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How was that for a bedroom recluse? In my fit of diligence, not only did I start and finish chapter six, but I also started a new fic. Aren't I great! Keep your eyes peeled. Actually, doesn't that sound disgusting? So just keep looking for a new Pan drama. I know, I know, aren't there enough? But I promise it will be very different. I'll post it the same time as chapter six. I'm so excited. Please check it out! All right, back to my bolder to check for reviews. Ja ne!