Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 22
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein; they belong to Akira Toriyama and whoever he's decided to share them with.
Author's Notes: Many apologies for the lateness of this chapter. My brain has not been cooperating with me lately, and so writing has been slow going. Many thanks for your patience.
Vegeta stared at the missive, one hand cupping his chin while the other tapped a thoughtful tattoo on the desktop's metal surface. The letter was so similar to the one he'd received two-odd years ago that he wondered for a moment if someone was fucking with him. Dormant aggression hidden behind a calm demeanour, complete surprise at seeing the subject's skill and power under duress. “Fuck me,” he mused, reading over the physical description of the slave under discussion. Had someone actually found Kakarott? It was hard to deny, comparing this letter with the one that had announced the discovery of Gohan. No tail was mentioned, but Vegeta already knew that there wouldn't be. Gohan had already told them that his father was tail-less, though he had indeed been born with one.
Vegeta scowled at the computer screen. No mention of a tail didn't mean it was Kakarott; it just meant that it wasn't some other heretofore unknown Saiyan. “Could be Kakarott,” Vegeta tilted his head to better study the text, “or it could be some shithead from butt-fuck nowhere.”
Or it could really be Kakarott.
Vegeta had a hard time believing that he could get so lucky twice. What were the odds that two separate observers in two different slaver camps on two different planets would connect the dots? It didn't sit well with him; the idea that he may very well be walking into some kind of trap was unnerving. Perhaps whoever it was didn't mean to kill him or anything ridiculous like that, but Vegeta had seen enough political snares to be wary of walking into one. If he went to investigate, would it get back to Frieza? Was this some sort of ploy to set him up as disloyal to the emperor? He was already carrying around so many secrets that slipping up and unravelling his whole web had become a real possibility.
Or maybe it was just some stupid fuck, looking to extort some money. The practice wasn't uncommon. Hell, finding long-lost relatives and selling them back to their desperate families for double the cost was big business in some of the lower markets.
“Fuck,” he muttered, closing the message and tapping a few keys to erase all traces of its existence, “whoever wrote this message, it's not like he's gonna live long after we get it settled, Kakarott or not.”
Decision made. If there was even a chance that this slave might be of saiyan blood, he was honour bound to investigate. If it was just some other spiky-haired biped then there was nothing lost. If it was actually Kakarott, then there was everything to gain.
Vegeta didn't like to admit it, but he was worried about what the kid's reaction to finding his father would be. His loyalty would no longer belong to the saiyan cause if his little family unit was back together, would it? How hard would it be to sway Kakarott? Gohan had gotten his backward way of thinking from somewhere; surely it was much worse in his parents. And yet…the slave had killed, according to the letter - something which Gohan had been loathe to do. Perhaps this “Goku” wasn't so much a saint as his son believed him to be.
“I'm coming,” Gohan said to Vegeta's back, forcefully swallowing his nerves, “and you can't stop me.” He balled his fists at his sides and stood as straight and tall as he could. He'd been shocked when, minutes before, Vegeta had appeared in his doorway and told him not to bother packing. Stunned, he'd sat for a moment longer before stuffing one last shirt into his duffel and sprinting off after the prince.
“Oh?” Vegeta turned his head to the side, eyeing the boy with just the bare edge of his peripheral vision. “You think I can't stop you?” He turned fully, his back now facing the small ship he'd been inspecting, and glared down his nose.
“He's my dad.” Gohan protested.
“Exactly. And when you see him and you have some kind of stupid little joygasm at the sight, if it is in fact him,” Vegeta tossed his hand flippantly, “then you will fuck up any chance we have of not appearing suspicious.”
“I won't, I promise!” Gohan wheedled, clasping his hands in front of him in classic pleading pose. “Do I need to get down on my knees and beg?”
“Try it and see, kid, you'll more'n likely get kicked in the face for your troubles.” Nappa grunted as he shoved a crate of canned rations into the ship's cargo hold. He eyed the stack of food, packed into the hold nearly wall to wall, and decided he'd better shove a few more flats in, just in case. Now, he scratched his bald head, where to squeeze them in?
“I'll follow you.” The boy said, stubbornly. Had he been a normal child in a normal family, he might have stamped his foot and screamed and cried, but he was a half-saiyan being raised by three of the most dangerous men in the universe, and he knew that there was no swaying such hearts with simple tears.
“Not if I beat the hell out of you and leave you half-dead on the landing strip.” Vegeta snorted, before turning back to his inspection of the water tank. The maintenance crew had most certainly done a thorough check already, but too many years of looking after his own pod had ingrained some hard-to-break habits in the saiyan prince. Plus, there was no telling who was on whose payroll in this army. Few might have been brave enough to face him on the battlefield, but that didn't mean there weren't many who'd sink to killing him in far sneakier ways.
Gohan just glared, unable to think of a good rejoinder; he didn't doubt that Vegeta really would beat him and leave him half dead without even batting an eye. “I'll stay on the ship.” He promised. “Or we can get them to bring my dad to us privately. You're probably gonna kill the guy who brings us in anyway, aren't you? If so, my reaction won't even matter. The less people who see us and who we're there for, the less chance there is of this leaking out anyway.”
“Kid's right.” Radditz pointed out. He hadn't said much all day, the prospect of finally meeting his long-lost brother having tied his tongue to his unsettled stomach.
“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Vegeta grunted, ticking something off on his mental checklist of the ship and stepping round to have a look at a recently welded seam between two panels. He rapped on both sides of the repair with his knuckles and pressed with his fingers, certainly using much more force than it might appear, to test its hold. “Have your teary little reunion with daddy, but don't expect any of us to be passing tissues around. Get your shit together and be back in five minutes.”
“Radditz already packed my stuff.” Gohan hitched his thumb to a carefully concealed fourth duffel bag among the three that had been loaded earlier. Vegeta shot Gohan's uncle a glare but went quickly back to his task rather than bothering to start something. Though he strove not to show it, he was just as anxious as Radditz and Gohan to be going. The prospect of adding another fully grown saiyan to his little clan had his mind racing with possibility.
“Fucking mutineers.” Vegeta muttered.
Goku growled as three guards inched carefully toward him, cautious even though their prisoner wore heavy shackles on both his wrists and arms. He'd become violent since his escape attempt and subsequent beating, the effects of which had not yet healed completely. “He favours his right leg,” said the guard on the left and the other two nodded, fully prepared to use the knowledge to their advantage if necessary. They could see that he was tired, left weak from the restrictions they'd set on his rations, but also that he'd been beaten recently. It looked like someone, his work crew leader perhaps, had taken it upon themselves to dole out some extra punishment for the escape attempt.
“What do you want?” Goku asked as he backed into the corner of his cage, crouching into a battle-ready stance. He was kind of woozy and the movement made his bruised muscles cry out with pain that he strove not to show. All three guards had guns but only one had his out and ready for use. The other two came in with empty hands.
“Just stay calm, will ya?” The guard with the gun pleaded. “Boss' got a potential buyer for your crazy ass, and we're supposed to deliver you as undamaged as possible.” He levelled the gun at Goku as the other two sprang the final step between them and locked their free arms around his biceps. Even in shackles, they knew this man was dangerous. Just three days ago he'd head-butted the guard on his work crew, knocking the man backwards so hard that he'd cracked his head on a boulder and had to be sent for medical attention. No one knew quite why Goku had done it; perhaps he'd meant to mount another ill-conceived escape plan, or maybe he merely wanted to piss off his captors. He wouldn't talk, even when pressed.
“Buyer?” Goku shot a panicked look at Piccolo, who just shrugged from within his cage, trying not to appear concerned lest he give anything away. “No, no way. Nobody's buying me!”
“Perhaps you should go with them.” Piccolo speculated telepathically. “Perhaps this is a good thing.”
“I won't leave you here!” Goku's mind shouted, even as the men tugging on his arms forced his body to lurch forward, made his feet come into a shambling pattern of steps to avoid falling flat on his face. The man with the gun prodded his back and he yelped when the hard muzzle connected with bruised flesh.
“Hey, Manks you idiot!” The guard who'd clamped himself onto Goku's left arm hissed, “What about undamaged didn't you understand?”
“Yeesh, sorry.” The man now known as Manks drew his rifle back into the crook of his elbow. “How was I supposed to know?
“Whatever, just stop it. I don't wanna get in shit from the boss just `cause you wanna feel important back there.”
“You won't say nothing, right?” The guard on Goku's right arm, the one who'd yet to speak, asked jocularly. “No problems between us four, yeah?” Hopeful blue eyes met with Goku's dark ones, and the earthling couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for the three who were currently manhandling him along.
“No, I won't say anything.” Goku sighed after a moment, knowing that it would weigh on his conscience if he got them into trouble. Really, Manks couldn't know that his back was still a mottled mass of tender cuts and bruises beneath his tattered shirt, and the other two had been outright gentlemen so far, compared to what he was used to from the slave-camp guards. Nah, these guys really weren't so bad at all, he thought. In other circumstances, he was suddenly certain that they'd have been friends.
“Hey, chin up man. We're almost there.” Leftie loosened his grip for a moment to point at a small outbuilding off to the side of the main office. Goku stiffened and forced his eyes to focus on the dumpy little shack. His last experience in such a shed had led to the bruising on his back, and much worse, directly after his escape attempt. A tall, skinny humanoid with skin the colour of rust was pacing back and forth in front of the door and it was making Goku dizzy to try and follow the man with his eyes.
“What took you so long?” The rust-skinned man strode quickly toward them, irritation and apprehension strong on his features. The saiyans in the shack had made him very nervous and he had a feeling that things might go badly for him if he'd made a mistake. What if that slave wasn't a saiyan, after all? What would they do?
“Hey Arxin, where's Boss?” Manks asked, and Arxin turned a sour face toward the guard.
“Boss doesn't oversee every sale.” Arxin lifted his chin haughtily and sneered at the trio of dusty guards as though their presence soiled his very being. “Now hurry and hand him over to me. The buyer is not a patient sort of man.” He reached out and grabbed hold of the chain connecting Goku's wrists, tugging the bound man forward with surprising strength for such a skinny frame. Leftie and Rightie, as Goku had come to think of them in their short time together, quickly let go and he stumbled forward, nearly falling before he regained his balance. “What did you do to him?” Arxin yelped, appalled at Goku's state. He was swaying where he stood, obviously unbalanced as he tried to keep as much weight as possible on his good leg.
“He was a mess when we found him, I swear!” Rightie insisted. “Right?” He turned to his companions who nodded vigorously, but Arxin merely narrowed his eyes.
“S'true.” Goku piped up wearily. “Guard's been laying into me daily. S'why I headbutted him.” He slurred the last sentence a little, honestly surprised at how lightheaded he was after the long walk. Perhaps he was more injured than he realized.
“Shit.” Arxin hissed. “Shit, shit, SHIT!” He glared at Goku, plainly taxed by the mere effort of standing on two feet, and swiped a hand across his forehead as beads of nervous sweat began to pop up. “You get your brains together, you hear me?” He grabbed Goku's shirt in his fist and pulled him forward. “Don't you dare go fainting on me in there or anything.” He released the material and was pleased when the man did not sway. “And you three,” Arxin turned toward the guards, “make yourselves scarce.”
Goku was led into the shack by a surprisingly gentle hand on his back. Arxin was obviously eager to minimize the appearance of damage and certainly did not want to cause even more by treating his merchandise roughly. Goku squinted in the dim light inside the shack, surprised to see four figures crammed into the murky interior, rather than the one he'd been expecting from Arxin's words outside the shack.
“G...Gohan?” His weary eyes focused on the smallest figure and he fell to his knees, staring at the trembling figure of the child. Was he imagining it? Was it some sort of cruel cosmic joke, or was that little deer in the headlights his son?
“Is that him?” The second shortest figure asked, and Gohan nodded, still staring at his father. He could feel his muscles trembling with the effort it took not to throw himself upon the chained man. He felt sick, to see his father that way, but he swallowed it all back and forced himself to stand still and stoic, just as he had promised Vegeta he would. “Alright, Nappa, Radditz, you two get him into the ship.”
Goku panicked as two looming shadows came toward him. What was going on? Who were these people and why did they have his son? That was Gohan, wasn't it? It sure as hell looked like him, but if so, why had he not said anything? “P...Piccolo!” He gasped out as the two big guys grabbed hold of his arms and hefted him to his feet. “Piccolo, I can't leave him behind!” He began to struggle in their grasp. “Let me go get him, I won't be long! Please!”
“Quit wiggling, Kakarott.” The longhaired saiyan on his arm snarled. Who was Kakarott? “I just found you, I don't want the first thing I do to be knocking you out.”
“Mr. Piccolo is still alive?” Gohan asked, and Goku nodded.
“Gohan, please, I can't leave him here.” Goku begged, watching as his son turned toward the short adult with the wild flame of hair.
“He'll be a huge help.” Gohan said. “He's very strong!”
“Arxin!” Vegeta barked, drawing his face into a scowl. “Since our preferred cargo is so damaged, we will take this Piccolo for free, as compensation.”
“Oh, no, no, that wasn't the deal!” Arxin protested, but his courage quickly died under the force of Vegeta's glare. “I...um...I'll get him and then we'll...ahh...negotiate.” he muttered, darting out the door. “Stay here!”
“Gohan, what is going on?” Goku moaned as soon as Arxin's footsteps were no longer audible. “Who are these people?”
“Um...” Gohan stalled, looking at his father's beaten body, hearing the tiredness in his words. “Perhaps it would be best to tell you everything after you've rested and eaten.” Gohan put a hand on his father's slumping shoulder, which perked suddenly at the mention of food. “All you need to know is that you're safe now.”
Piccolo was brought quickly and Gohan was relieved to see that the former god was in much better shape than his father. “A namek?” Vegeta spat, surprised. “How the hell did you end up on Earth?”
“It's a long story.” Piccolo shrugged, his attention focused moreso on the resemblance between Goku and the three adults that had come to buy him. “Hello Gohan,” he said, belatedly realizing that the fourth saiyan was in fact the snivelling kid he'd met on the eve of Earth's destruction. “Surprised to see that you're alive.”
“Same to you.” Gohan said, executing a quick bow of respect. “But pleased all the same,” he added, and Piccolo couldn't help but smirk at that.
“Yeah, I guess me too.”
“Ahem,” Arxin coughed into his hand, interrupting the odd reunion. “Now about my payment. Seeing as this is the person you were searching for and I have done everything to ensure that this transaction stays between us...” he trailed off, one eyebrow raised and Vegeta fought the urge to sneer.
“Of course.” The prince said docilely as he stepped toward Arxin. “We are in a hurry, so I suppose it's best to make this quick.”
“Good to see we're on the same level. I take it you've brought the -hurk-“ He coughed as Vegeta reached out and grabbed his head, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Arxin's jaw.
“Tsk tsk, little fool.” Vegeta laughed, his voice low. “You didn't expect to live, now that you know we've got another saiyan in our midst, did you? After all the trouble I went to, to keep this secret, you didn't think I'd let you prance off with the knowledge in your little brain, did you?” He spun his wrist quickly, forcing Arxin's head to the side and jerked, snapping his neck with so little effort. “Come on,” he ordered, turning away from the body and back toward his men. “We have places to be.”
“Come on, Kakarott.” Radditz tugged on his brother's arm, forcing the bewildered man to stop staring at the body and follow along. He felt sick at the thought that his son had just seen a man be murdered, but Gohan seemed to have no qualms as he stepped neatly over the corpse on his way out the door.
“Careful of the pee, dad.” Gohan said, pointing to the puddle on the floor that his father was about to step in. Goku wrinkled his nose and took an awkwardly long step that would have unbalanced him had Radditz not been clamped to his arm. Nappa had long since let go and moved up in their little procession to be near Vegeta, while Piccolo followed warily at the rear. He really didn't trust the tailed men, but anywhere was better than the cage he'd been living in, and he especially didn't want to be anywhere near the shack when someone came along and found Arxin's body.
“Ugh, where's Sixteen?” Bulma complained as Krillin knocked into yet another wall. He was carrying the awkward bulk of the regeneration tank all by himself and he couldn't see where he was going for shit.
“He's been locked up in the lab with Dr. Gero for a while now...Watch out!” Chichi yelped and dove in to save the crate from bumping the door frame as Krillin negotiated the big object through the small space. “Last time I saw either of them was maybe two or three days after you and Puar left.”
“Well maybe he'll come out now that we're back with Gero's mystery package.” Bulma shrugged and pointed to the plain brown box under her arm. “No clue what it is,” she said, “but it's too light to be Sixteen's new dong.” She winked and Chichi flushed to the roots of her hair. “But I guess if he's been locked away with the old coot all this time, then there must not be any new developments on that front, eh?”
“Shht!” Chichi hissed, waving an arm in Krillin's direction, but the diminutive monk was too occupied with his task to pay attention to their conversation. “If you told anyone...” Chichi trailed off in warning, and Bulma laughed.
“Oh relax, everybody sees you two cuddling on the couch all the time. It's no secret.”
“It's not like that and you know it.” Chichi crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at her friend, wondering why she'd even bothered to miss the blue haired woman's company while she'd been away. “We're just friends, and I'll thank you not to spread rumours otherwise!”
“Okay, okay, scout's honour.” Bulma laughed. “I'm going to go see if someone will answer my knocks,” she rapped the mystery package with her knuckles, “wanna come?”
“Nah,” Chichi shrugged. “I've got to start prepping dinner. It's my turn to cook tonight.”
“Oooh, what are we having?” Bulma asked, already drooling. “I've been eating canned rations for the whole trip and one of your meals will me more than welcome.”
“Nothing special, just roast tur with maybe some steamed baida on the side. I thought I might whip up a pie for dessert from some of that fruit you brought from Guru's...or maybe fruit tarts...I'm not sure. I'll have to see what exactly is in there.”
“Whatever it is, my stomach is growling already.” Bulma smiled and tapped the package again. “But I'd better get a move on. I also want to unpack the tank and get it set up this afternoon. I've also been slacking a bit on the gravity room plans. Dad and I are just about ready to begin construction but there's a few bugs to be worked out and measurements to be finalized before we go scrounging for materials.”
“How much is it going to cost us?” Chichi asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. When the gravity room was finished, she reminded herself, Vegeta would come to the station with Gohan. All she cared about was seeing more of Gohan.
“Um...a lot.” Bulma grimaced and Chichi rolled her eyes. The heiress had never really come to terms with her reduced budget.
“Make Vegeta pay for it. He's the one who wants the stupid thing.” She sighed, thinking about how she and Mrs. Briefs would continue to feed the station when all of their meagre funds were being used to buy concrete and reinforced steel panels.
“Well, I could try. I don't want to even think about how much he shelled out for the new tank. It's really top of the line. I guess he must figure he'll be using it a lot once the GR is built.”
“Leaving the rest of us to wallow in bandages, no doubt.” Chichi snorted.
“He's not so bad, you know.” Bulma snapped. “I wish you'd at least try to be a little less negative about Vegeta.”
“Why, so when he comes back here you can hop into bed with him again? Be a nice, cozy little couple and integrate him into our happy little family?” Chichi asked, sarcastically. “Get real, Bulma. I don't get what you see in that guy. He's rude, he's short, and he's a homicidal maniac. We've all heard the stories, Bulma. He's killed billions of people. Laid entire planets to waste. Don't you get it? If it weren't for Goku's presence on Earth, he and those other two killer pets of his probably would have been in on the action.”
“Shut up, Chichi.” Bulma hissed. “Just shut up! Don't you think I know how stupid I'm being? Don't you think I know how dangerous he is, how he could snap my neck in a second? But he hasn't, and he won't. You don't...” her voice caught, “You weren't there with us. When he touched me...he was so careful.” She whispered. “And he didn't have to be, but he was. Chichi, I don't know what to do. I feel like...I don't even know. I never, never felt this strongly for Yamcha. And I don't know if it's real or if it's just infatuation, but I keep thinking that hey, infatuation is real, too.”
“Don't. Don't tell me I'm being stupid or foolish, because I already know it. And don't you dare throw it in my face what he's done, because no matter what I tell myself, no matter how many times I imagine him ripping someone's guts out with his bare hands, it doesn't do a damn thing. It doesn't make a bit of difference. I just...” Bulma heaved a sighed and looked down at the package in her arms.
“Do you love him?”
“No.” Bulma shook her head and looked at her friend. “No, I hardly know him.”
“You've been talking to him for a long time now.” Chichi pointed out, as she took the box from Bulma and set it on the table. She crossed the room to sit on the couch and patted the seat next to her.
“It's not love, nothing like that. It's just...when he touches me, when he speaks to me, he's all I can think about. It's like my brain shuts down and this animal part of me just takes over, and all it has eyes for is him.” She sighed and plopped down on the couch. “That's fucked up. That's like, obsession and mental health problems type of messed up.”
“Well, you have been under a lot of stress lately.” Chichi snickered, and Bulma snorted and punched the black-haired woman in the arm. “Ouch!”
“Oh yeah right, like I could ever hurt you with my fists, Chi.” Bulma rolled her eyes and flopped back into the cushions.
“Okay, here's the deal,” Chichi flopped back too and grabbed Bulma's hand, squeezing it within her own. “I'll try to be less negative about Vegeta if you try and take off your rose-coloured glasses and maybe think about my point of view.”
“Pfft, if I was only wearing tinted specs, Chi. I know how much of a jerk he is. The problem is that it doesn't even matter. I feel like I'm one of those battered women who keeps saying how much she loves her husband, even while she's in the emergency room, black and blue with a broken nose.”
“Even I'll admit he's not that bad.” Chichi sighed. “You're more like some mobster's wife who lives in her pretty house with all her money, and conveniently ignores where it comes from.”
“Oh, thanks.” Bulma couldn't help but to laugh and Chichi began to giggle too. “At least I'm not hot for a sexless robot.”
“Oh, hush.” Chichi turned her head and grinned at Bulma across the couch cushion, their hands still linked between them.
“Ooh, sexy lesbo action!” Came a grating voice from the doorway before a flash of light sent blobs of colour dancing through their vision. Both women turned to see Oolong standing there with a camera, ready to snap another photo. “Why don't you two get a little closer?” he grunted, “Maybe make out a little?”
“Augh, you little pervert!” Chichi shrieked, letting go of Bulma's hand and launching herself to her feet. She grabbed a cushion and hurled it at the pig. “Get out of here!” She yelled, stomping toward him. Oolong squealed and bolted but Chichi was not to be dissuaded. She chased him out of the room and down the hallway before Bulma heard the muffled thump of Chichi's booted foot hitting the pig in his well padded bottom.
“Ah, geez Chi!” Bulma heard him squawk. “I was just joking around! Ouch! Ngg! Can't a guy have a little fun? Ack! No, not the face! Ow!”
“Just another day.” Bulma shook her head and got slowly to her feet. She grabbed the package and shuffled over to the door of Gero's lab. She tried the intercom but there was no response and pounding on the door elicited no action whatsoever, so she shrugged and dumped the box in front of the door before heading off to the medical bay to see how Krillin was faring with the regeneration tank. He'd already stripped the crate away by the time she arrived and he'd begun to pull the various parts out of their packing. “What a beautiful mess!” She beamed, her eyes taking in the array of metal and plastic spread out across the floor.
“It's mostly pre-constructed,” Krillin said, pulling away some more packing to reveal the pod-shaped device that took up most of the space in the box, “but as you can see there is some assembly required.” He smiled back as he tossed her the instruction manual. “This one even comes with a book. He must not have bought it on the black market...or at least a more upscale market that Gero's used to.” Krillin shrugged and pulled away the scratch protector that covered the glass front of the tank. “That guy must be loaded.” He whistled, peering inside the prefab portion of the tank. “This thing is way fancier than the last one.”
“I know,” Bulma squealed, her nose buried in the manual. “It's one of the best models available right now...maybe the best.”
Hey, what's this?” Krillin asked, pulling a folded piece of paper that was wedged into the control console. It obviously wasn't part of the packing materials.
“What, what is it?” Bulma snatched it from his hands and unfolded it.
. We even?
“What, is it some kind of love note?” Krillin laughed, snagging it back. “Oh ho, how romantic!” He laughed, reading it quickly. “Hey, there's two sheets here.” He peeled a second piece of paper off the back of Vegeta's note, to see a child's rounded letters staring up at him.
. Dear Mom, I miss you and I'm sorry I had to leave so soon. I'll see you soon. Love, Saiyaman.
“Aww,” Bulma took the note from Vengeance back, leaving Gohan's note firmly between Krillin's fingers. “Why don't you go give that to Chichi and I'll finish putting this thing together.” Her smile was a bit watery. “If you see my dad, let him know about this.” She gestured toward the mess around them. “He might be interested in the tank.”
“Ahh, sure.” Krillin folded the note carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his pants. “I'll leave you to it.” He grinned as he watched Bulma's fingers play over the piece of paper she'd taken back from him. She thought she was so smart, so clever and sneaky, but he'd overheard enough of her conversations with Vengeance to know that something was going on between the two of them even before Vegeta showed up in the flesh. He also knew Bulma's track record - she had a terrible weakness for dangerous guys and had never been able to stop herself from flirting with the enemy, even though she would never really go for a bad guy. Vegeta must have seemed like the perfect man - more than dangerous enough t make her heart pound, but with a secret save the world side to catch her flighty heart.
Krillin shook his head as he left the room. No, he wasn't nearly as naive as everyone liked to think.
Yeah, Krillin knows the score. Thanks for waiting, thanks for reading, and thanks in advance to those of you who leave a review.