Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dance With Death ❯ Recovery ( Chapter 10 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Angel Katarina aka AC 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.19.2004 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.4K | Visits: 269 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.19.2004 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.4K | Visits: 269 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don't own DragonBallZ or any of its characters, I just own Comet.
"Dance With Death"
by A.C
Chapter Ten
Recovery
---`---,---@
The next morning dawned warmer than the previous night. Comet opened her eyes sleepily to be met with a still, golden room. The bed hangings were waving slightly in a rare, warm, morning breeze. A few dew drops had gathered, glistening, on the window frame. Nothing about the room seemed disturbed, as if the events of last night were a faded memory.
Comet was in a strangely good mood. As if she had risen anew with the dawn and the sun. As if she had been washed clean of everything that had happened and what it meant. Cell felt miles away, and his burden of a presence seemed like nothing. She felt like she could forget about the Android and just enjoy the day peacefully, somehow secure in a mysterious knowledge he wouldn't show up.
How peculiar. She felt, for the first time in a good few days, safe.
She climbed from her bed, quickly adjusting to the slight drop in temperature, and made her way confidently to the window. The sun had just risen above the peeks of the Lookout, and had thrown a light, shimmering veil of pale golden light across the extent of the area. Beyond, a pale blue sky matched those she had seen on early spring dawns, dotted with white fluffy clouds. Today would be cool, but pleasant. Refreshing. The morning seemed pretty warm, but she knew it would cool around noon. She inhaled deeply and smiled.
Perhaps she would train today.
The fighter leapt into a warm shower, donned a clean set of clothes and made her way through the twisting hallways that opened up onto the front gardens. It seemed odd to call them gardens, for the extent of it was but a sea of tile right to the very edge, but it was the best that the group knew it by. A few varied sorts of plant life were scattered around, cared for by Mr. Popo. It was calming to see plants, even at this altitude.
"Look who's up early!" a cheerful Bulma greeted as Comet strolled into the Lookout's main kitchen, a few waves of her dark brown hair still damp. Most of the group was already gathered about the table, where it looked like today's breakfast was pancakes. Gohan, Krillen, Goku and Trunks were all seated at the table. Vegeta, she noticed, was missing in action - as well as Piccolo. Although this was common. She didn't think Piccolo even ate. Yamcha and Tien were gone as well. Over in the corner, Comet spotted the young Trunks - only three or so months old.
Goku paused in his steady inhalation of pancake after pancake - a wall of dirty plates was steadily beginning to stack up around him - and looked up, his syrupy face clearly expressing surprise. "Oh, hi, Comet!" he grinned, waving a fork. "Have a seat! Bulma made pancakes!" He announced this like his life had finally found meaning, and all was completely and utterly well with the world. With a slight smile, Comet slid into a seat beside Trunks, who was quietly sipping some orange juice.
"I can see that," she remarked with a faint smirk, eyeing the rapidly disappearing stack of pancakes. "The question is, can she keep up?"
"Hey," Bulma scoffed, turning around, spatula in hand like a weapon. "If I can deal with Vegeta, I think I can make pancakes to feed some Sayains."
Comet chuckled, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Gohan and Goku both finished the pancakes on their plate at roughly the same time, and turned glittering onyx eyes on the supply plate. Just one pancake left. Slowly, the two tore their eyes from the golden-brown circle of breakfast goodness to each other, a challenge glittering within. Then, at the same time, both shot their hands out, grabbing for it.
Krillen began chuckling as both father and son grabbed nothing but the plate, and looked toward their prize in astonishment, only to find that it had, in fact, vanished. And then, automatically, they raised their eyes to the sneakiest person they knew.
Comet sneered tauntingly, waving the pancake that she had rolled into a sort of breakfast burrito, and then took a big bite and relished the results.
"Cooomeeeet..." Gohan whined, his face visibly falling in disappointment. Yet as the Earthling woman poured herself a glass of orange juice, Bulma made her way to the table and plopped down a fresh stack of steaming pancakes. With a cheer and a battle cry, Goku and son dove into the next course.
As soon as Comet finished both pancake and juice, she wiped her mouth with a napkin and stood. Goku, who was halfway through Kami-knows-what-number pancake, looked up. "Full already?"
"I feel like training this morning," she responded, pushing her chair back in lazily, "Don't want to eat too much. Is Vegeta in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?"
"I'm assuming so," Bulma replied from her post at the stove, "He tries to get in as much training as possible, and even if he can manage five minutes in there it'd be like five hours for him."
"Damn," she murmured, running a hand through her hair, "Training hog. Looks like I'm stuck to plain old boring space, hmm?"
She caught Goku's worried eye as she headed for the exit, but he was busy chewing. She met his gaze steadily, nodded once - very slightly - and commented; "I'll be careful, though, so don't worry."
---`---,---@
"Left - right - left - left - jab - right - powerhouse - right - uppercut - dodge - block - block - block to right - snap to left - kick and snap - aim for face - chest - follow through - right - left - sideswipe - roundhouse -"
Comet paused in her steady chanting as she went through each attack randomly, merely throwing strikes at her imaginary foe without any strategy in mind. She shot back, her legs drawing up underneath her, as she threw both arms out and focused her gaze directly forward, staring intently at a cloud in the distance.
"Kaa... meh... haaa... meh... haaAAAAAH!"
She watched in satisfaction as a short, thick beam of crimson ki laced out, but died halfway in its path to the target. She didn't mind, however, and straightened back up, a content look on her face. It hadn't been a real Kamehameha wave. She had never bothered to learn the move from Goku or Master Roshi or anyone who knew it. Her's was merely a mimic of the original. Most people with a decent ability to control their ki could mimic just about any move. It didn't take any particular talent - except maybe a bit of an eye for detail.
After all, it wasn't as if the cry preceding the wave was a magic chant that spurred it. It merely helped the fighter concentrate. Any attack could be done soundlessly - how else were sneak attacks supposed to be effective? Soon, after many uses of an attack, it became a habit for a fighter to yell out its name. Or, in many cases of sneak attack, to whisper.
Her mimic Kamehameha wave was looking more realistic each time, which was exactly what she wanted. Surprise the foe when it wasn't a real wave that shot out. Kamehamehas were straight waves of power, beams that could move in a straight line or curve, but usually focused directly on one source. It kept a steady stream of power between the user's hands and the target. She couldn't do that with her mimics - merely trick the opponent she was going to use a Kamehameha, and startle then when a short beam of power was produced.
Some of her more idiotic opponents had laughed, and then promptly found themselves eating her fist.
"Never waste more than a minute of sitting and laughing at your target," she murmured aloud at these remembrances. Mostly it was Vegeta who came to mind. "Especially those deep belly laughs were you throw your head back and are perfectly useless for about five minutes."
Speaking of the short, arrogant Sayain prince...
Comet paused and glanced beneath her at the Lookout, and frowned heavily. Damn him! She wanted to use the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, but nooo... Vegeta the training-hog had to bloody SLEEP in there... how else did he get there so early every day? Wake up at three in the morning?
She shuddered at the thought. Way too early for her...
The Earthling raised her vivid green gaze again, lazily beginning to bob back and forth in traditional kick-boxing style. How was it attacks were created? How were they used, recalled - what set certain attacks apart form other ones? It was the stance of the fighter, the amount of ki used and the technique with which it was dispelled. Every characteristic about the attack - how to form it, how to release it, how to control it and what it did when it was set off - was important. Each stage had to be carefully looked at in mimicking.
Vegeta's Final Flash came to her as an example. What did he do first? Spread his limbs out, almost spread-eagled in mid-air. That was when he began summoning power. He would charge, and then bring his hands together and focus it to his cupped palms. That was mainly the gist of forming the attack. One if its more important properties, she thought, was the fact it required a ridiculous amount of ki. Ki that could drain from spiritual stores in the body. Perhaps that was why it worked best when emotions were running high.
The Final Flash was like a surplus of ki. It was difficult to focus, but when able to focus directly on a target, it could do severe damage. However, aiming it - and making sure the beam went all the way through to its end - was a major difficulty. Surely such power moved at a certain rate, and she figured there had to be a certain time spans in which an opponent had to dodge.
She had begun doing regular jabs now. Bob, jab. Bob, jab. Bob, jab. A typical aerobic workout - one of her better methods for warming up and cooling down. She used a lot of kick-boxing in her own fighting. The lithe, nimble movements were things she found better suited to her. Darting around the opponent and avoiding blows in return was better, in her opinion, then barreling in and attempting to overwhelm the opponent with sheer strength and weight and relentless attack. It especially was worthless when the opponent was BIGGER then the user.
Like Cell, she couldn't help thinking.
A faint smile came to her lips. Here she was, on a rough mind track for battle strategies. Since when had she been so strategic? She made her mind relax more, and took in more of the surrounding scenery. It was about mid-day, one of your average spring days. Cool, yet remarkably sunny, with a brilliant clear sky. She could imagine down closer to Earth, the grass would be fresh and new. She was reminded of Easter and the pleasantries of a basketball hoop in the driveway. Of music, chalk and playing basketball in her church clothes.
Her smooth pattern of jabbing had shifted as she thought to side swipes at the cheek - left and then right. She threw in a couple uppercuts for good measure. Slow, steady and in rhythm with her bobs. Finally, to finish up, she leaned more heavily in her back hip and lifted her other leg, bent at first, and then striking out with a quick kick. The moment she rested it down again, she shifted her weight forward and swung her other leg around in another consecutive strike. Two more kicks ensued, and then she ended with one of her favorite moves - leaning back in mid-air as she drew her legs up to her chest, tensing, and then striking out with both legs to land a blow as her arms shot out behind her for balance. The kick was very powerful and hit usually in the chest area.
She paused, hovering, regaining her breath. Her mind drifted again to Cell, and his fighting techniques. Could she mimic those? She tried to think of a certain attack she had seen him use... and then realized her mind was drawing a blank. Cell had only used the Kamehameha waves and other simple ki attacks. As for his physical attacks... the more she thought about it, the more she came to realize. Cell didn't HAVE a particular style. In fact, while his moves were graceful and he was very strong and very fast, he had no fighting technique to speak of. True, he was strong, but not necessarily a good fighter. He didn't know how to counter moves very well, and so often was helpless when faced with a determined onslaught of attacks. Not that she could blame the guy, either. He had never been taught how to fight. No one had showed him the ropes - he had merely been born with all this power and expected to know how to use it.
"Have I figured out his weakness?" she quietly questioned herself, amused. True, a headstrong attack after attack could get quite a few blows in without being hit in return, but with his great strength came great endurance. It would take a hell of a lot of repeated attacks to even make him bruise...
"Yo, Comet!"
She blinked out of her daydream and glanced downward. Standing just in the entrance to the open hallways surrounding the Lookout was Yamcha, shielding his face with one hand from the sun and waving to her with the other. She could just scarcely make out the scar on his right cheek from her height. Slowly, she sank back and landed gingerly on her boots, readjusting to the heavy feeling of walking around.
"What's up, Yamcha?" she asked, reaching back and pulling her long wavy hair out of the loose ponytail she had gathered it in for training. Now that she had landed and was walking, she was beginning to feel the regular fatigue that followed - that usually came as a content, sleepy feeling. Her movements seemed slower and slightly sluggish, but she fought to keep alert.
"Goku wanted to talk to you," he responded, "It seemed kind of important. He wants everyone to be there."
"Everyone?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. What could possibly be so important as to call a meeting of everyone on the Lookout? Some people were better left uninformed...
"Well, except for Gohan, Bulma and little Trunks..."
"Yeah, I thought as much. Did this include dragging Vegeta out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?" she questioned with a faint smirk as the two began walking back in the direction of the Lookout's small kitchen. Yamcha didn't need respond. She caught the look that crossed his face and glided into laughter. "Seems like he won't be a very happy bunny, then..."
"Is he ever?" Yamcha wondered, raising an eyebrow.
"Catch him at a time where he's just become stronger than Goku, killed someone after a good fight, or in the process of winning a fight - and yeah, I'd say so."
"Good point," he mumbled. The walk back to the kitchen area didn't take long. Yamcha headed in first, and Comet followed shortly after. The small room was full of people, and the two newcomers had difficulty getting in. Goku and Gohan were still sitting at the breakfast table, but it had since then been cleared. Standing just over his shoulder and more off, away from the group, was Piccolo - his arms folded, head bowed. Krillen, Trunks, Tien were also standing around in typical poses, waiting for something. Vegeta was busy sulking and pretending to ignore everyone and everything around him. Mr. Popo hovered by the door, quiet yet alert.
Comet moved around the edge of the group and leaned against the counter, after glancing at everyone's expression. "Gee, we're all so somber."
"What's this about, Goku?" Krillen asked quietly, watching his friend worriedly. Comet watched Vegeta, amused, for a few minutes - waiting to see how long it would take him to realize he was being stared at, and also waiting for him to lift his head so she could shoot him a strange face or something - before turning her attention back on their "fearless" leader.
Goku, however, looked as lost as any of them. He blinked once or twice, bemusedly, at Krillen, as if figuring out what the bald little monk had asked. "Gee, I don't know. Piccolo was the one who wanted to meet," he confessed, glancing over his shoulder at the Namek.
Piccolo didn't move, but Comet caught the small, long-suffering sigh, and grinned appreciatively. Everyone was directing their attention on him now, rather then Goku, and she knew he didn't like it. 'Let's see how he takes the spot light...'
He avoided it, by simply refusing to look up. Keeping his head bent and eyes closed, he spoke quietly and slowly in his deep rumble, exactly in the same long-suffering tone. "We need to decide on the next best course of action."
"For what?" Yamcha asked bluntly, "For Cell?"
Comet's grin faded somewhat, and she felt a few glances being thrown her way. But, determined not to let the Android get to her, she continued leaning on the counter, both hands braced against the side, watching Piccolo. The Namek grunted in agreement, but still didn't raise his eyes.
"Was he still planning on doing his tournament?" Comet wondered aloud. "Because he still might be expecting a fight with each of us. And it could be our chance to stop him."
The room was silent for a few moments, and Comet knew the answer immediately - no one knew. So, she didn't expect to get her reply out here. Instead, she tuned her thoughts to remembering that day.
"Well... he had said that... he had fought with each of us," Tien spoke up, uncertainly. Comet lowered her gaze and stared thoughtfully at the tiled floor. No one spoke up for a few more minutes after that. Some didn't know what to think, while others were lost in their own thought, or waiting for someone to take the floor.
"What do you think we should do, Goku?" Krillen asked. Comet exhaled sharply - a very faint snort that no one caught. True, the little bald monk was faithful to his friends, and Goku had good intentions and all, but in her mind he wasn't exactly the best person to ask. She closed her eyes, mimicking Piccolo's stance, as Goku replied awkwardly.
"Well, ah... I don't know. He is strong, but... I guess it's up to Comet. I mean, are you up to it?"
The question was directed at her, but she ignored it. It wasn't up to her, it was up to the entire group, and the fate of the world. The blunt truth was, if Cell was left, free to do what he wanted, he would either destroy the world of begin to try and hunt the group down - if he wasn't already doing that. And if given enough time, he would sooner or later stumble upon the Lookout. So the real question was, did they want to stand up to fight him, or be forced into it like cowards?
"We can't just leave him to do what he wants," Trunks remarked, and Comet smirked faintly at the bitter tone in his voice. "We have to stop him."
"You do know that sooner or later we will have to fight him?" she spoke up quietly, keeping her eyes closed, and then opening them when she had finished speaking, staring directly at Trunks. He looked back for a moment, and then shifted his attention to Piccolo as the Namek spoke next.
"That's right. So unless we want him to build himself up and maybe take out a few cities while he's at it, we ought to attack him now."
"Cheers," Comet whispered under her breath, raising her head to see how the Z Fighters would react to this one. They all glanced amongst each other, uncertainly. She could see the question being thrown silently across the room - 'Is he serious?' It was pathetic, almost, the group's reluctance to fight the newest threat to the Earth. She rolled her eyes.
"Leave the Android to me," Vegeta grunted, speaking for the first time since the group assembled. Now, not one of the Z Senshi would have ever dared to insult Vegeta. Goku often did, but it was always indirectly - usually just insulting the prince's intelligence with his own lack thereof. Comet, however, was quickly growing tired of the direction the meeting was going - nowhere - and at the blatant simplicity of the solution and the fact they were all refusing to face it. Right after Vegeta's remark, she laughed - scornfully.
"Don't kid yourself," she snickered, "You've fought him once. Hell, you're the one who let him get to his final form in the first place. And you lost, brutally. Not even your son, who has surpassed you in strength, could defeat him. Why? Because Cell outsmarted him. Cell isn't just brute strength. He's intelligent, cunning, and he'll use any means to ensure victory, because he can. He can afford to. We, on the other hand, can't afford to try anything and make stupid mistakes. Another move like the one you pulled," she sneered, "and we've blown it."
Vegeta's eyes finally opened, to fix Comet with a glare that could freeze fire. She narrowed her own in a smirk right back, not afraid to challenge him because her words were true - and they all knew it. The group was silent again, as Comet and Vegeta exchanged burning stares.
Piccolo finally raised his head and glanced at the tension, supported in the air, between the Sayajin and Earthling. He rested his eyes on Comet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.
"It's obvious what must be done," he finally remarked, quietly, "We must defeat Cell, and as soon as possible. We need to train."
"Think you can share the hyperbolic time chamber, Vegeta?" Comet taunted, throwing a grin in his direction.
The Sayain prince didn't even grace that comment with a response. With the faintest grunt, he turned on his heel and strode form the room - signaling that the little meeting was, apparently over. Comet rolled her eyes, pushing away from the counter with a muttered, "I suppose that's a no."
Trunks gazed uncomfortably after his father, unsure whether to follow or not. In the end, he decided not to, and settled again, folding his arms and staring quietly at the floor. No one gave any notion of leaving or even shifting positions. Comet was waiting for everyone to go their separate ways, but, upon recognizing that wouldn't happen anytime soon, headed for the door.
"Hold on."
The Earthling froze in her tracks, blinked once, and then turned. Everyone still in the room, who might have previously been in his own trance, was now watching her carefully. She glanced around, feeling every eye on her. Piccolo was the one who had spoken, and as she looked quizzically at him, he beckoned with his eyes.
"What...?" she asked warily, turning to face them all.
A short, awkward silence followed. No one knew exactly what to say, and yet the thought floated easily between them, lighting every conscience and urging them to exchange glances. Upon receiving no definite answer, yet cautious of the topic that was soon to surface, Comet gave full attention to Piccolo, who seemed to be struggling to find the right words.
"Are you... comfortable... with this?"
"With... what?" she pressed, throwing a confused glance at Goku, who had been startlingingly quiet throughout the entire counsel, "With..."
"Cell," finished Piccolo in a low grunt. "I'm sure his lust hasn't lessened any. The truth is, Comet, he'll take this as an opportunity to seize you. If you fight, that is. Perhaps you'd better remain on the Lookout..."
"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed, folding her arms, "There is no way I'm missing out on this fight. Who knows how many fighters we'll need? I can't help any just sulking about up here. I'll be careful, don't worry..."
A faint twinge in her memory interrupted her steady flow, but she didn't let it show. Cell's rich, low, tenor whispered through her mind, and the sharp pain in her neck reawakened, but she fought these away and kept her eyes, fixed on Piccolo, carefully blank - determined not to let show any signs of weakness. The Namek met her gaze, seeming to try and find a quail. After a few moments, his onyx eyes lowered slightly.
"Satisfied, Goku?"
Frankly, Comet didn't care if they were satisfied or not. Her muscles were beginning to tense, and she struggled to stay still, looking instead at Goku and waiting for him to finally dismiss her. Adrenaline began a steady flow throughout her veins, forcing her to use every last ounce of self-control to keep from bolting out. Time crept by dangerously, as Goku looked at her. She stared back, almost desperately, waiting impatiently.
He looked reluctant to speak, and she knew the decision he was faced with. He didn't want to endanger her, but the steely look playing across her face told him exactly how annoyed she'd be if he refused to let her. Trying to keep her best interests in mind and yet fearful of her wrath.
"If... she's okay with it..." he said slowly - speaking to Piccolo and yet keeping a worried watch on Comet. "I guess she can fight. She's right, we'll need as much help as we can."
He tore his eyes from her to glance at the Namek, and two exchanged a glance. Comet was just about sick and tired of all the little secrets the others appeared to be hiding from her. Her impatience won over, and the slick black leather gave a final tap on the floor. "Can I go now?"
No response. She took this as an affirmative, and before anyone else could stop her, turned and strode from the room. Vegeta was still hogging the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, leaving her with almost nothing to do. But a couple things mentioned at their little "meeting" still bothered her. Her footsteps began leading her down the same arched, open hallway she had walked with Yamcha on her way in.
Where WAS Cell? She was still confused over the events of last night, wanting to believe they were just a dream. Yet the occasional twinge in her neck and the muddled, brooding feeling in the back of her mind were forcing her to believe it had all been real. But he had seemingly been killed - she had seen the explosion in the church. And yet he had appeared to her, unscathed. There was also another to consider, the fact that he hadn't taken her. Here she had been, vulnerable and alone, and he had snuck in undetected. He could have kidnaped her (again). Yet he didn't. Why?
Was he afraid she'd give the alarm, and cause the entire Z Senshi to come running? He could, if he really wanted to, have taken them all. He had proved this fact before, and several times. Unless he was wary about Goku's power, after that titanic clash just yesterday. He could have silenced her. He could have kept her mouth shut until they were away from the Lookout - he could have kept her asleep and taken her while that - he could have knocked her out...
There were so many things he could have done, and yet none he did. And none of it made any sense to her! To her, this seemed out of place for the Android. With his little sick, evil schemes in mind, the last sort of thing she expected out of him was to show up - and furthermore, to leave of his own will again!
Perhaps he had died. A ghost. Or even a nightmare, if ruling in the dream factor again. Her hand trailed to her throat, subconsciously rubbing it. No, that bite had been real enough. The pain had been real enough. Even if she had been sleeping, such a stab of pain would have awoken her.
She leapt over a couple steps, skipping hurriedly down to the courtyard, where her rapid and agitated footsteps proceeded across the tile. What had been his intent? Was he still out there? Piccolo obviously believed so - it seemed everyone did. Even Goku hadn't shown any sign of doubt that Cell was still alive. But none of them knew what had happened in the dark of night. She hadn't even thought to tell them.
Should she?
A stupid question! Tell them, that she was (she supposed, sullenly) his mate, now? Against her will? Admit he had snuck in and left, just as easily? They would be puzzled by his motives, too. They couldn't figure it out. And if they knew... they'd never let her leave the Lookout again for the rest of her life!
"As if I'm any safer up here..." she hissed to herself, her already swift pace increasing along with her temper. That was true - even if Cell was alive and they were planning to fight him... how much time they had was purely dependent on the Android's will. He knew where the Lookout was. How he found out or how long he knew was something she didn't, but the point was that if he grew impatient or bored enough, he would show up. Ready for another fight.
"I can't let that happen..." she murmured. By now, the Earthling had reached the edge of the Lookout and was now pacing, ruffled. None of them knew where Cell was, or when he was coming back. They should at least have an idea. How, though? How could they find out?
Comet paused and looked over the edge of the Lookout, staring silently down. Her mind battled with itself, turning itself upside down in a repeated patterns of reasons and arguments and predictions and assumptions. She was thinking in circles, and it wasn't helping her situation!
A quick, sweeping glance around the Lookout confirmed the absence of another body. And with that, Comet gently let herself free fall sideways and disappear from view.
---`---,---@
"Dance With Death"
by A.C
Chapter Ten
Recovery
---`---,---@
The next morning dawned warmer than the previous night. Comet opened her eyes sleepily to be met with a still, golden room. The bed hangings were waving slightly in a rare, warm, morning breeze. A few dew drops had gathered, glistening, on the window frame. Nothing about the room seemed disturbed, as if the events of last night were a faded memory.
Comet was in a strangely good mood. As if she had risen anew with the dawn and the sun. As if she had been washed clean of everything that had happened and what it meant. Cell felt miles away, and his burden of a presence seemed like nothing. She felt like she could forget about the Android and just enjoy the day peacefully, somehow secure in a mysterious knowledge he wouldn't show up.
How peculiar. She felt, for the first time in a good few days, safe.
She climbed from her bed, quickly adjusting to the slight drop in temperature, and made her way confidently to the window. The sun had just risen above the peeks of the Lookout, and had thrown a light, shimmering veil of pale golden light across the extent of the area. Beyond, a pale blue sky matched those she had seen on early spring dawns, dotted with white fluffy clouds. Today would be cool, but pleasant. Refreshing. The morning seemed pretty warm, but she knew it would cool around noon. She inhaled deeply and smiled.
Perhaps she would train today.
The fighter leapt into a warm shower, donned a clean set of clothes and made her way through the twisting hallways that opened up onto the front gardens. It seemed odd to call them gardens, for the extent of it was but a sea of tile right to the very edge, but it was the best that the group knew it by. A few varied sorts of plant life were scattered around, cared for by Mr. Popo. It was calming to see plants, even at this altitude.
"Look who's up early!" a cheerful Bulma greeted as Comet strolled into the Lookout's main kitchen, a few waves of her dark brown hair still damp. Most of the group was already gathered about the table, where it looked like today's breakfast was pancakes. Gohan, Krillen, Goku and Trunks were all seated at the table. Vegeta, she noticed, was missing in action - as well as Piccolo. Although this was common. She didn't think Piccolo even ate. Yamcha and Tien were gone as well. Over in the corner, Comet spotted the young Trunks - only three or so months old.
Goku paused in his steady inhalation of pancake after pancake - a wall of dirty plates was steadily beginning to stack up around him - and looked up, his syrupy face clearly expressing surprise. "Oh, hi, Comet!" he grinned, waving a fork. "Have a seat! Bulma made pancakes!" He announced this like his life had finally found meaning, and all was completely and utterly well with the world. With a slight smile, Comet slid into a seat beside Trunks, who was quietly sipping some orange juice.
"I can see that," she remarked with a faint smirk, eyeing the rapidly disappearing stack of pancakes. "The question is, can she keep up?"
"Hey," Bulma scoffed, turning around, spatula in hand like a weapon. "If I can deal with Vegeta, I think I can make pancakes to feed some Sayains."
Comet chuckled, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Gohan and Goku both finished the pancakes on their plate at roughly the same time, and turned glittering onyx eyes on the supply plate. Just one pancake left. Slowly, the two tore their eyes from the golden-brown circle of breakfast goodness to each other, a challenge glittering within. Then, at the same time, both shot their hands out, grabbing for it.
Krillen began chuckling as both father and son grabbed nothing but the plate, and looked toward their prize in astonishment, only to find that it had, in fact, vanished. And then, automatically, they raised their eyes to the sneakiest person they knew.
Comet sneered tauntingly, waving the pancake that she had rolled into a sort of breakfast burrito, and then took a big bite and relished the results.
"Cooomeeeet..." Gohan whined, his face visibly falling in disappointment. Yet as the Earthling woman poured herself a glass of orange juice, Bulma made her way to the table and plopped down a fresh stack of steaming pancakes. With a cheer and a battle cry, Goku and son dove into the next course.
As soon as Comet finished both pancake and juice, she wiped her mouth with a napkin and stood. Goku, who was halfway through Kami-knows-what-number pancake, looked up. "Full already?"
"I feel like training this morning," she responded, pushing her chair back in lazily, "Don't want to eat too much. Is Vegeta in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?"
"I'm assuming so," Bulma replied from her post at the stove, "He tries to get in as much training as possible, and even if he can manage five minutes in there it'd be like five hours for him."
"Damn," she murmured, running a hand through her hair, "Training hog. Looks like I'm stuck to plain old boring space, hmm?"
She caught Goku's worried eye as she headed for the exit, but he was busy chewing. She met his gaze steadily, nodded once - very slightly - and commented; "I'll be careful, though, so don't worry."
---`---,---@
"Left - right - left - left - jab - right - powerhouse - right - uppercut - dodge - block - block - block to right - snap to left - kick and snap - aim for face - chest - follow through - right - left - sideswipe - roundhouse -"
Comet paused in her steady chanting as she went through each attack randomly, merely throwing strikes at her imaginary foe without any strategy in mind. She shot back, her legs drawing up underneath her, as she threw both arms out and focused her gaze directly forward, staring intently at a cloud in the distance.
"Kaa... meh... haaa... meh... haaAAAAAH!"
She watched in satisfaction as a short, thick beam of crimson ki laced out, but died halfway in its path to the target. She didn't mind, however, and straightened back up, a content look on her face. It hadn't been a real Kamehameha wave. She had never bothered to learn the move from Goku or Master Roshi or anyone who knew it. Her's was merely a mimic of the original. Most people with a decent ability to control their ki could mimic just about any move. It didn't take any particular talent - except maybe a bit of an eye for detail.
After all, it wasn't as if the cry preceding the wave was a magic chant that spurred it. It merely helped the fighter concentrate. Any attack could be done soundlessly - how else were sneak attacks supposed to be effective? Soon, after many uses of an attack, it became a habit for a fighter to yell out its name. Or, in many cases of sneak attack, to whisper.
Her mimic Kamehameha wave was looking more realistic each time, which was exactly what she wanted. Surprise the foe when it wasn't a real wave that shot out. Kamehamehas were straight waves of power, beams that could move in a straight line or curve, but usually focused directly on one source. It kept a steady stream of power between the user's hands and the target. She couldn't do that with her mimics - merely trick the opponent she was going to use a Kamehameha, and startle then when a short beam of power was produced.
Some of her more idiotic opponents had laughed, and then promptly found themselves eating her fist.
"Never waste more than a minute of sitting and laughing at your target," she murmured aloud at these remembrances. Mostly it was Vegeta who came to mind. "Especially those deep belly laughs were you throw your head back and are perfectly useless for about five minutes."
Speaking of the short, arrogant Sayain prince...
Comet paused and glanced beneath her at the Lookout, and frowned heavily. Damn him! She wanted to use the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, but nooo... Vegeta the training-hog had to bloody SLEEP in there... how else did he get there so early every day? Wake up at three in the morning?
She shuddered at the thought. Way too early for her...
The Earthling raised her vivid green gaze again, lazily beginning to bob back and forth in traditional kick-boxing style. How was it attacks were created? How were they used, recalled - what set certain attacks apart form other ones? It was the stance of the fighter, the amount of ki used and the technique with which it was dispelled. Every characteristic about the attack - how to form it, how to release it, how to control it and what it did when it was set off - was important. Each stage had to be carefully looked at in mimicking.
Vegeta's Final Flash came to her as an example. What did he do first? Spread his limbs out, almost spread-eagled in mid-air. That was when he began summoning power. He would charge, and then bring his hands together and focus it to his cupped palms. That was mainly the gist of forming the attack. One if its more important properties, she thought, was the fact it required a ridiculous amount of ki. Ki that could drain from spiritual stores in the body. Perhaps that was why it worked best when emotions were running high.
The Final Flash was like a surplus of ki. It was difficult to focus, but when able to focus directly on a target, it could do severe damage. However, aiming it - and making sure the beam went all the way through to its end - was a major difficulty. Surely such power moved at a certain rate, and she figured there had to be a certain time spans in which an opponent had to dodge.
She had begun doing regular jabs now. Bob, jab. Bob, jab. Bob, jab. A typical aerobic workout - one of her better methods for warming up and cooling down. She used a lot of kick-boxing in her own fighting. The lithe, nimble movements were things she found better suited to her. Darting around the opponent and avoiding blows in return was better, in her opinion, then barreling in and attempting to overwhelm the opponent with sheer strength and weight and relentless attack. It especially was worthless when the opponent was BIGGER then the user.
Like Cell, she couldn't help thinking.
A faint smile came to her lips. Here she was, on a rough mind track for battle strategies. Since when had she been so strategic? She made her mind relax more, and took in more of the surrounding scenery. It was about mid-day, one of your average spring days. Cool, yet remarkably sunny, with a brilliant clear sky. She could imagine down closer to Earth, the grass would be fresh and new. She was reminded of Easter and the pleasantries of a basketball hoop in the driveway. Of music, chalk and playing basketball in her church clothes.
Her smooth pattern of jabbing had shifted as she thought to side swipes at the cheek - left and then right. She threw in a couple uppercuts for good measure. Slow, steady and in rhythm with her bobs. Finally, to finish up, she leaned more heavily in her back hip and lifted her other leg, bent at first, and then striking out with a quick kick. The moment she rested it down again, she shifted her weight forward and swung her other leg around in another consecutive strike. Two more kicks ensued, and then she ended with one of her favorite moves - leaning back in mid-air as she drew her legs up to her chest, tensing, and then striking out with both legs to land a blow as her arms shot out behind her for balance. The kick was very powerful and hit usually in the chest area.
She paused, hovering, regaining her breath. Her mind drifted again to Cell, and his fighting techniques. Could she mimic those? She tried to think of a certain attack she had seen him use... and then realized her mind was drawing a blank. Cell had only used the Kamehameha waves and other simple ki attacks. As for his physical attacks... the more she thought about it, the more she came to realize. Cell didn't HAVE a particular style. In fact, while his moves were graceful and he was very strong and very fast, he had no fighting technique to speak of. True, he was strong, but not necessarily a good fighter. He didn't know how to counter moves very well, and so often was helpless when faced with a determined onslaught of attacks. Not that she could blame the guy, either. He had never been taught how to fight. No one had showed him the ropes - he had merely been born with all this power and expected to know how to use it.
"Have I figured out his weakness?" she quietly questioned herself, amused. True, a headstrong attack after attack could get quite a few blows in without being hit in return, but with his great strength came great endurance. It would take a hell of a lot of repeated attacks to even make him bruise...
"Yo, Comet!"
She blinked out of her daydream and glanced downward. Standing just in the entrance to the open hallways surrounding the Lookout was Yamcha, shielding his face with one hand from the sun and waving to her with the other. She could just scarcely make out the scar on his right cheek from her height. Slowly, she sank back and landed gingerly on her boots, readjusting to the heavy feeling of walking around.
"What's up, Yamcha?" she asked, reaching back and pulling her long wavy hair out of the loose ponytail she had gathered it in for training. Now that she had landed and was walking, she was beginning to feel the regular fatigue that followed - that usually came as a content, sleepy feeling. Her movements seemed slower and slightly sluggish, but she fought to keep alert.
"Goku wanted to talk to you," he responded, "It seemed kind of important. He wants everyone to be there."
"Everyone?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. What could possibly be so important as to call a meeting of everyone on the Lookout? Some people were better left uninformed...
"Well, except for Gohan, Bulma and little Trunks..."
"Yeah, I thought as much. Did this include dragging Vegeta out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?" she questioned with a faint smirk as the two began walking back in the direction of the Lookout's small kitchen. Yamcha didn't need respond. She caught the look that crossed his face and glided into laughter. "Seems like he won't be a very happy bunny, then..."
"Is he ever?" Yamcha wondered, raising an eyebrow.
"Catch him at a time where he's just become stronger than Goku, killed someone after a good fight, or in the process of winning a fight - and yeah, I'd say so."
"Good point," he mumbled. The walk back to the kitchen area didn't take long. Yamcha headed in first, and Comet followed shortly after. The small room was full of people, and the two newcomers had difficulty getting in. Goku and Gohan were still sitting at the breakfast table, but it had since then been cleared. Standing just over his shoulder and more off, away from the group, was Piccolo - his arms folded, head bowed. Krillen, Trunks, Tien were also standing around in typical poses, waiting for something. Vegeta was busy sulking and pretending to ignore everyone and everything around him. Mr. Popo hovered by the door, quiet yet alert.
Comet moved around the edge of the group and leaned against the counter, after glancing at everyone's expression. "Gee, we're all so somber."
"What's this about, Goku?" Krillen asked quietly, watching his friend worriedly. Comet watched Vegeta, amused, for a few minutes - waiting to see how long it would take him to realize he was being stared at, and also waiting for him to lift his head so she could shoot him a strange face or something - before turning her attention back on their "fearless" leader.
Goku, however, looked as lost as any of them. He blinked once or twice, bemusedly, at Krillen, as if figuring out what the bald little monk had asked. "Gee, I don't know. Piccolo was the one who wanted to meet," he confessed, glancing over his shoulder at the Namek.
Piccolo didn't move, but Comet caught the small, long-suffering sigh, and grinned appreciatively. Everyone was directing their attention on him now, rather then Goku, and she knew he didn't like it. 'Let's see how he takes the spot light...'
He avoided it, by simply refusing to look up. Keeping his head bent and eyes closed, he spoke quietly and slowly in his deep rumble, exactly in the same long-suffering tone. "We need to decide on the next best course of action."
"For what?" Yamcha asked bluntly, "For Cell?"
Comet's grin faded somewhat, and she felt a few glances being thrown her way. But, determined not to let the Android get to her, she continued leaning on the counter, both hands braced against the side, watching Piccolo. The Namek grunted in agreement, but still didn't raise his eyes.
"Was he still planning on doing his tournament?" Comet wondered aloud. "Because he still might be expecting a fight with each of us. And it could be our chance to stop him."
The room was silent for a few moments, and Comet knew the answer immediately - no one knew. So, she didn't expect to get her reply out here. Instead, she tuned her thoughts to remembering that day.
"Well... he had said that... he had fought with each of us," Tien spoke up, uncertainly. Comet lowered her gaze and stared thoughtfully at the tiled floor. No one spoke up for a few more minutes after that. Some didn't know what to think, while others were lost in their own thought, or waiting for someone to take the floor.
"What do you think we should do, Goku?" Krillen asked. Comet exhaled sharply - a very faint snort that no one caught. True, the little bald monk was faithful to his friends, and Goku had good intentions and all, but in her mind he wasn't exactly the best person to ask. She closed her eyes, mimicking Piccolo's stance, as Goku replied awkwardly.
"Well, ah... I don't know. He is strong, but... I guess it's up to Comet. I mean, are you up to it?"
The question was directed at her, but she ignored it. It wasn't up to her, it was up to the entire group, and the fate of the world. The blunt truth was, if Cell was left, free to do what he wanted, he would either destroy the world of begin to try and hunt the group down - if he wasn't already doing that. And if given enough time, he would sooner or later stumble upon the Lookout. So the real question was, did they want to stand up to fight him, or be forced into it like cowards?
"We can't just leave him to do what he wants," Trunks remarked, and Comet smirked faintly at the bitter tone in his voice. "We have to stop him."
"You do know that sooner or later we will have to fight him?" she spoke up quietly, keeping her eyes closed, and then opening them when she had finished speaking, staring directly at Trunks. He looked back for a moment, and then shifted his attention to Piccolo as the Namek spoke next.
"That's right. So unless we want him to build himself up and maybe take out a few cities while he's at it, we ought to attack him now."
"Cheers," Comet whispered under her breath, raising her head to see how the Z Fighters would react to this one. They all glanced amongst each other, uncertainly. She could see the question being thrown silently across the room - 'Is he serious?' It was pathetic, almost, the group's reluctance to fight the newest threat to the Earth. She rolled her eyes.
"Leave the Android to me," Vegeta grunted, speaking for the first time since the group assembled. Now, not one of the Z Senshi would have ever dared to insult Vegeta. Goku often did, but it was always indirectly - usually just insulting the prince's intelligence with his own lack thereof. Comet, however, was quickly growing tired of the direction the meeting was going - nowhere - and at the blatant simplicity of the solution and the fact they were all refusing to face it. Right after Vegeta's remark, she laughed - scornfully.
"Don't kid yourself," she snickered, "You've fought him once. Hell, you're the one who let him get to his final form in the first place. And you lost, brutally. Not even your son, who has surpassed you in strength, could defeat him. Why? Because Cell outsmarted him. Cell isn't just brute strength. He's intelligent, cunning, and he'll use any means to ensure victory, because he can. He can afford to. We, on the other hand, can't afford to try anything and make stupid mistakes. Another move like the one you pulled," she sneered, "and we've blown it."
Vegeta's eyes finally opened, to fix Comet with a glare that could freeze fire. She narrowed her own in a smirk right back, not afraid to challenge him because her words were true - and they all knew it. The group was silent again, as Comet and Vegeta exchanged burning stares.
Piccolo finally raised his head and glanced at the tension, supported in the air, between the Sayajin and Earthling. He rested his eyes on Comet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.
"It's obvious what must be done," he finally remarked, quietly, "We must defeat Cell, and as soon as possible. We need to train."
"Think you can share the hyperbolic time chamber, Vegeta?" Comet taunted, throwing a grin in his direction.
The Sayain prince didn't even grace that comment with a response. With the faintest grunt, he turned on his heel and strode form the room - signaling that the little meeting was, apparently over. Comet rolled her eyes, pushing away from the counter with a muttered, "I suppose that's a no."
Trunks gazed uncomfortably after his father, unsure whether to follow or not. In the end, he decided not to, and settled again, folding his arms and staring quietly at the floor. No one gave any notion of leaving or even shifting positions. Comet was waiting for everyone to go their separate ways, but, upon recognizing that wouldn't happen anytime soon, headed for the door.
"Hold on."
The Earthling froze in her tracks, blinked once, and then turned. Everyone still in the room, who might have previously been in his own trance, was now watching her carefully. She glanced around, feeling every eye on her. Piccolo was the one who had spoken, and as she looked quizzically at him, he beckoned with his eyes.
"What...?" she asked warily, turning to face them all.
A short, awkward silence followed. No one knew exactly what to say, and yet the thought floated easily between them, lighting every conscience and urging them to exchange glances. Upon receiving no definite answer, yet cautious of the topic that was soon to surface, Comet gave full attention to Piccolo, who seemed to be struggling to find the right words.
"Are you... comfortable... with this?"
"With... what?" she pressed, throwing a confused glance at Goku, who had been startlingingly quiet throughout the entire counsel, "With..."
"Cell," finished Piccolo in a low grunt. "I'm sure his lust hasn't lessened any. The truth is, Comet, he'll take this as an opportunity to seize you. If you fight, that is. Perhaps you'd better remain on the Lookout..."
"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed, folding her arms, "There is no way I'm missing out on this fight. Who knows how many fighters we'll need? I can't help any just sulking about up here. I'll be careful, don't worry..."
A faint twinge in her memory interrupted her steady flow, but she didn't let it show. Cell's rich, low, tenor whispered through her mind, and the sharp pain in her neck reawakened, but she fought these away and kept her eyes, fixed on Piccolo, carefully blank - determined not to let show any signs of weakness. The Namek met her gaze, seeming to try and find a quail. After a few moments, his onyx eyes lowered slightly.
"Satisfied, Goku?"
Frankly, Comet didn't care if they were satisfied or not. Her muscles were beginning to tense, and she struggled to stay still, looking instead at Goku and waiting for him to finally dismiss her. Adrenaline began a steady flow throughout her veins, forcing her to use every last ounce of self-control to keep from bolting out. Time crept by dangerously, as Goku looked at her. She stared back, almost desperately, waiting impatiently.
He looked reluctant to speak, and she knew the decision he was faced with. He didn't want to endanger her, but the steely look playing across her face told him exactly how annoyed she'd be if he refused to let her. Trying to keep her best interests in mind and yet fearful of her wrath.
"If... she's okay with it..." he said slowly - speaking to Piccolo and yet keeping a worried watch on Comet. "I guess she can fight. She's right, we'll need as much help as we can."
He tore his eyes from her to glance at the Namek, and two exchanged a glance. Comet was just about sick and tired of all the little secrets the others appeared to be hiding from her. Her impatience won over, and the slick black leather gave a final tap on the floor. "Can I go now?"
No response. She took this as an affirmative, and before anyone else could stop her, turned and strode from the room. Vegeta was still hogging the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, leaving her with almost nothing to do. But a couple things mentioned at their little "meeting" still bothered her. Her footsteps began leading her down the same arched, open hallway she had walked with Yamcha on her way in.
Where WAS Cell? She was still confused over the events of last night, wanting to believe they were just a dream. Yet the occasional twinge in her neck and the muddled, brooding feeling in the back of her mind were forcing her to believe it had all been real. But he had seemingly been killed - she had seen the explosion in the church. And yet he had appeared to her, unscathed. There was also another to consider, the fact that he hadn't taken her. Here she had been, vulnerable and alone, and he had snuck in undetected. He could have kidnaped her (again). Yet he didn't. Why?
Was he afraid she'd give the alarm, and cause the entire Z Senshi to come running? He could, if he really wanted to, have taken them all. He had proved this fact before, and several times. Unless he was wary about Goku's power, after that titanic clash just yesterday. He could have silenced her. He could have kept her mouth shut until they were away from the Lookout - he could have kept her asleep and taken her while that - he could have knocked her out...
There were so many things he could have done, and yet none he did. And none of it made any sense to her! To her, this seemed out of place for the Android. With his little sick, evil schemes in mind, the last sort of thing she expected out of him was to show up - and furthermore, to leave of his own will again!
Perhaps he had died. A ghost. Or even a nightmare, if ruling in the dream factor again. Her hand trailed to her throat, subconsciously rubbing it. No, that bite had been real enough. The pain had been real enough. Even if she had been sleeping, such a stab of pain would have awoken her.
She leapt over a couple steps, skipping hurriedly down to the courtyard, where her rapid and agitated footsteps proceeded across the tile. What had been his intent? Was he still out there? Piccolo obviously believed so - it seemed everyone did. Even Goku hadn't shown any sign of doubt that Cell was still alive. But none of them knew what had happened in the dark of night. She hadn't even thought to tell them.
Should she?
A stupid question! Tell them, that she was (she supposed, sullenly) his mate, now? Against her will? Admit he had snuck in and left, just as easily? They would be puzzled by his motives, too. They couldn't figure it out. And if they knew... they'd never let her leave the Lookout again for the rest of her life!
"As if I'm any safer up here..." she hissed to herself, her already swift pace increasing along with her temper. That was true - even if Cell was alive and they were planning to fight him... how much time they had was purely dependent on the Android's will. He knew where the Lookout was. How he found out or how long he knew was something she didn't, but the point was that if he grew impatient or bored enough, he would show up. Ready for another fight.
"I can't let that happen..." she murmured. By now, the Earthling had reached the edge of the Lookout and was now pacing, ruffled. None of them knew where Cell was, or when he was coming back. They should at least have an idea. How, though? How could they find out?
Comet paused and looked over the edge of the Lookout, staring silently down. Her mind battled with itself, turning itself upside down in a repeated patterns of reasons and arguments and predictions and assumptions. She was thinking in circles, and it wasn't helping her situation!
A quick, sweeping glance around the Lookout confirmed the absence of another body. And with that, Comet gently let herself free fall sideways and disappear from view.
---`---,---@