Author's notes: Arrgghhh! What happened to the formatting? Grrrr! Stupid text! Messing up on me like that….how rude. I hope it didn't make the last chapter too difficult to understand. Bleah…dumb stupid old stupid format/text thing.

And you know what? The more I see of the Super Android 17 Saga the more I realize just how much it sucks. Poor Juunangou, forced to merge into that…thing. Just the mere image of it in my brain causes me to cringe. It's made me even more determined to give poor misguided Juu-kun a second chance with this fic. I mean, come on! What were the writers smoking when they decided to write that saga? Whatever it was it sure as hell killed off more than just a few brain cells.

All right, all right. I'll shut my whining mouth and get on with it. I know you're just itching for me to shut up.

Disclaimer: (Yawn) Me no touchy Dragonball Z. Armes mine. Yah.

In The Hands Of The Prophet.

Chapter Two: Waking and Meeting.

"Good morning! Mark Neil here! It's 9.30 and what a beautiful Wednesday morning we have today in Satan City! Look's like spring's just round the corner, eh folks? Well, let's get on with the weather forecast so I can continue playing your favorite songs all day, every day! Today's top temperature for the coast will…"

Armes smiled softly to herself, enjoying Mark's inane drone over the small two-way radio she kept in the kitchen. Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she titled her head and listened as Mark cheerily reported the day's forecast.

"…And further inland it'll be even warmer, with temperatures expected to reach a maximum of 75 degrees Fahrenheit. Hello sunshine!

Armes' smile grew wider. Warm weather. Finally.

"…Forecast for tomorrow is much the same, although the weather bureau has predicted that the weekend will bring some rain and cooler temperatures. Enjoy it while it lasts, huh? I'll bring you further updates at twelve, but for now, back to the music!"

Mark's beamy voice was suddenly replaced by the obnoxious ranting of some punk band singing about losing their virginity, causing Armes to curl her lip in distaste. She quickly reached over the sink and turned them off, and blissful silence filled the small house once again.

She folded the towel and hung it over the faucet, her movements slow and lazy as she slipped into a pensive state. Now that Mark was quiet she had no outside distraction, and as usual in these situations she found her thoughts wandering, drifting off. It wasn't long before her wayward thoughts began to pull her attention towards the living room, and her unusual guest.

After his nightmare, the rest of the day had passed uneventfully. He had slept peacefully throughout the night, and she had not felt anything more from him. She had spent a good deal of time curled up on the sofa simply watching him, waiting for something, anything to happen. But of course it had not. He had slept on, oblivious, and she had been left to wait and wonder.

She watched the morning sun filter through the forest canopy, mind still churning. Juunanagou.

Number Seventeen.

An odd name, if indeed that's what it was. There was a good chance she was wrong. The numbers could very well be metaphorical, alluring to something more deeply buried within his subconscious of which she was not aware. But then again…

Juuhachi.

Eighteen.

The woman in the dream…she had looked remarkably similar to her young charge. His sister? Quite possible. But the look of raw hatred seared onto the pretty blonde's eyes indicated to Armes that any love that may have existed between the two was long forgotten.

She cocked her head to the side, bird-like, curious. Why?

Something had happened.

The images from the dream had been distorted and confused at best, but that did not prevent the strange chill that suddenly ran down Armes' spine. She knew this feeling. It was as familiar as the face that looked back at her from the bathroom mirror every morning.

Death.

People had died, many people. It had come swiftly, raining down upon them before they could even open their mouths to scream. And he had been there. He'd witnessed it, been a part of it. He'd…

Caused it?

And the woman…Eighteen…she'd been leaning over someone, a somewhat short, older man with an unruly mop of black-gray hair and a matching mustache. He'd had a hole in his chest, and she was crying. That was when she had attacked him, or so it seemed to Armes.

Was he really a murderer?

But the voices…

They had sounded identical. Same tone, same inflections, everything. Yet one had seemed dark, malicious…evil.

And the other had been plaintive. It had sounded unsure, vulnerable, and almost childlike. And when the images of death had flashed through Armes' mind it had cried out, begging, pleading with the other voice to stop the carnage. But of course it hadn't.

But what did it all mean? Had it even happened? Or what it just some horrible, dark fantasy conjured up by his subconscious? What did the numbers mean? What were the voices? Why-

A sudden, overpowering wave of dizziness struck Armes, and she staggered awkwardly as the entire room seemed to tilt on its side and spin. Flailing her arms, she managed to stop herself from tipping over completely by grabbing the edge of the sink in a white-knuckle death grip, pulling herself up and leaning over the basin to steady herself. Suddenly she felt very tired, and the mother of all headaches had seated itself within her skull. But despite her discomfort, a strange half smile flitted across her pale lips.

He was awake.

**

The first thing he was aware of was his head.

He cracked his eyes open a tiny fraction, only to immediately shut them again as the bright morning sunshine filtering in through the window caused his already monstrous headache to increase ten-fold

Ahh…fuck. Where the hell-

He forced his eyelids open once more, his vision blurry but managing to adjust somewhat to the brightness of the room. He squinted, trying to recognize his surroundings. After a moment of confusion he realized he didn't have a bloody clue where he was.

Or how he'd gotten there.

He frowned, trying to remember. It proved to be a difficult and painful task. His memory was shrouded in a thick blanket of mist, and trying to penetrate it only caused the pain in his skull to worsen. He moaned, raising one hand to press it against his forehead.

"F-fuck…"

"How eloquent of you."

He started, eyes snapping open in surprise. He swung his head (a movement which caused even more grief) quickly towards the source of the unknown voice. For a moment he was confused why, even sitting down, she seemed to loom over him. After a second he realized he had been lying on the floor, under a thick layer of blankets. And that underneath all that he was naked. He scowled, his expression darkening. She smiled.

"Don't worry. I didn't look for any longer than was necessary."

He blinked, staring up at her. She was young, perhaps no older then twenty-one. Even though she was sitting down he could tell that she wasn't very tall, perhaps just over five feet. But despite her short stature she seemed…powerful. She was neither slim nor fat, her medium build offset by a pair of broad shoulders that gave her the appearance of being much stronger than most women her age. Her skin was smooth and pale, almost white, giving her a porcelain-doll type appearance. She dressed simply; black kaki pants with a long-sleeved navy blue shirt over the top, the garments adding to the pale of her skin. Her face was rounded and kind looking, with a small delicate nose, pink lips and inky blue eyes. Her hair was quite short, cropped to sit just above her shoulders, and it was a dark red. The color of blood when drawn out from the vein. She smiled again, causing her dark blue eyes to twinkle with a strange light. He frowned, his scowl deepening.

"Who the hell are you?"

She cocked her head to the side, giving her a bird like quality. "Do you have a headache?"

Her response was unexpected, to say the least. "Well…yes. But.."

Before he could finish the sentence she was beside him, pushing a half full glass of water and two aspirin into his hands. "Take these."

Realizing it was fruitless to argue, he quickly swallowed the bitter pills, draining the glass. She took the glass from him, leaving the room and returning a minute later with a bundle of clothes. She laid them beside him, and smiled at him once again. He was beginning to find it strange…that smile. It was like she was aware of something he was not.

"These are some of my clothes, but they should fit you." She gave a small, lighthearted chuckle. "As you can see, I'm not the skinniest girl around, so you should be quite comfortable in them." She stood then, still smiling. "I'll leave while you get dressed. I'm starting breakfast. Are you hungry?"

He was about to open his mouth to reply when his stomach let out an audible growl at the mention of food. Damn thing has ears.

Her smile grew wider. "I'll take that as a yes." She turned to leave, speaking over her shoulder as she did so. "Please make yourself at home when you're done dressing. I'll let you know when breakfast's ready." She was almost out the door.

"Wait!"

She turned back to face him, that pleasant half-smile still on her lips. "Yes?"

He took a deep breath, his mind whirring. Here he was, in a strange place, with a complete stranger, having woken up after being out of commission from God-knows what. He just needed to know one thing for it to start making sense.

"Who are you?"

The smile never faltered. " I am Armes. And you?"

Here we go. He just knew the reaction he was going to get when he told her his name.

"I'm Juunanagou."

And to his complete and utter shock she just kept on smiling. In fact, he could have sworn she almost grinned.

"Very nice to meet you, Juunanagou. Breakfast will be ready shortly."

Then she was gone.

To Be Continued…

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