Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ WW3: The Zen Resistance ❯ Work, Or Lack Thereof ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer-I don't own anything except Briana

Work, Or Lack Thereof

Chichi bit her lip and stopped tears from coming as the guard kicked her again. Her entire left side from her hip up was bruised from the steel-toed boots.

She struggled away with her hands and her right hip, her legs numb, as Recoome laughed. "That'll teach ya, scum, to blow off work!"

"B-but I told you, I'm sick…" Chichi whimpered, her voice scratchy.

"Who gives a <Bleep>? Get to the factory, 6!tc#, before I have to drag you by your lice-ridden hair!"

Chichi's eyes closed and she heard footsteps walking away. Then she heard more coming towards her.

"Please, please! I'll get up…I just have to get my strength back. Please…I'll be there in 5 seconds…"

"Chichi?"

She opened her eyes again. "Oh, Goku, it's you," she breathed. "Help me up. I can't move…"

"Chichi, what's wrong?" Goku wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her up.

"I'm sick…I don't know what it is, but I feel so weak…"

Goku felt her forehead. "For Christ's sake, Chichi, you're on fire. How could you get up this morning?"

"I crawled. The guard found me…Goku, it hurts…"

"It's OK, it's OK," he whispered, looking around. Inter-breeding was strictly forbidden. Goku was supposed to mate with another Saiyan and Chichi was supposed to mate with another non-Aryan Earthling. That was how Hitler kept his races apart. "I'll take you to 18's."

"Goku…you'll be beaten."

"18 will take care of it. Come on Chichi, you're gonna die if you don't get help."

He quickly ran off into the surrounding forest before anyone could see them.

18 banged her head into her feather pillow again…and again…again… Her life sucked. She was the petted only child of Dr. Gero, advisor to Hitler.

Well, she wasn't the only child. But the family kept her twin, 17, out of sight. He was what they called a Half-Aryan. Both his parents were Aryans, but he was born with black hair instead of blonde. They kept him locked up in a room with one tiny window and fed him a bowl of spoiled rice per day. 18 snuck in to see him when she could, but that wasn't often.

"Mistress 18." Her personal serving girl, a non-Aryan named Briana, approached her. "A Saiyan and non-Aryan are here to see you. They call themselves Goku and Chichi."

"Send them up," 18 said.

Briana went back downstairs and returned, leading the two up.

"Oh my God, Chichi!" 18 gasped. "Wait here, I'll get a Senzu from Karin." She left the room.

Karin was a strange cat-like being from an unknown source. He walked with a cane and talked like he'd been smoking for 40 years, but he was an amazing doctor who created the Senzu, a pill that cured anything from headaches to heart failures. Because of his appearance, the family kept him a secret as well, not wanting to have their supply of miracles executed for being 'superior' to the Aryans.

"Good day, Mistress 18," Karin said in his scratchy voice.

"Give me a Senzu, quick!"

"Here." Karin handed her a bag of Senzu. She breathed out a "Thank you" and ran back to her room.

"Here." 18 practically forced the Senzu into Chichi's mouth. Chichi chewed, the crunching echoing through the entire room. She swallowed.

Goku felt her forehead. It was cooling down. She cleared her throat, getting the last phlegm out of her system. She swallowed, and then smiled. "Thanks, 18."

"S'nothing," 18 said, falling back on the bed. 18 and Chichi wouldn't have known each other if Chichi hadn't happened to wander into the garden when they were both 4-year-olds. 18 had been picking the buds off flowers when Chichi had yelled, in her childish indignance, not to kill the flowers. They'd had a good old-fashioned dirt-cold fight that ended in laughs and a friendship. That was before they knew of Aryans, non-Aryans, Saiyans, Nameks, and Hitler. And after 10 years, they'd been strong and secretive enough to keep up a friendship.

Goku and Chichi were never supposed to become an item either. The only reasons they knew each other was because they worked together. There had been an accidental explosion once, and the managers had left her unconscious body for dead. Goku had crawled back in and dragged her out. And things just kinda went from there…

"I'll put in a call and get you two excused from work," 18 added.

"You just never will learn, will you, Vegeta?" Bulma sighed, scrubbing Vegeta's face with a rubbing alcohol-soaked rag. There were cuts and bruises all over his face, and his left eye was swollen.

He smirked. "It was worth it, seeing Recoome's face when he looked in the mirror. Red hair, black eyes…Aryan my @$$! Tell your old man thanks for the dye."

"Dad never should have made that for you. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

"Naw, I'm too hard to kill," Vegeta said cockily. "Anyway, why should you care? Where's your fellow non-Aryan boyfriend?"

"Yamcha is not my boyfriend. I told you, we broke up."

"Yamcha and Mai…Yamcha and Mai…"

"Shut up!" Bulma threw the rag at his face.

He laughed and pulled the rag off. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"You shut up." She grabbed his tail and squeezed.

"$#!T!" he screamed.

Bulma grinned. "That'll learn ya!"

"'Learn' me? Never got an e-ju-ma-kay-shun, did'ja?"

Her hand stiffened against his tail. "Wanna run that by me again?" She dropped his tail and sighed. "Don't know why I bother. You're just gonna run off and be a smart-@$$ and get yourself killed."

"You're gonna miss me if I do," he said mockingly.

"Whatever. Just get back to work."

"Yes, MASTER," Vegeta said sarcastically.

"Finally, respect I deserve…"

"YOU WERE GIVEN 3 MINUTES!!!!"

"Coming, my lord!" Bulma ran out of the room, followed more slowly by Vegeta. Like Goku and Chichi, Bulma and Vegeta worked together in a factory. There was no tale of heroics between those two, more like an acquaintance that had turned pretty friendly. Their assembly lines were right next to each other, so they talked every day.

As for Vegeta's 'education' crack, he didn't have much room to talk. Neither he nor Bulma, nor anyone who wasn't Aryan, had ever gone to school. They learned trades in a type of vocational school, but never got higher schooling.

"We shouldn't be doing this…" Piccolo grumbled underneath his breath. "I'm blowing off work…"

He was silenced as Haski kissed him. "Oh, don't worry," she whispered. "Soon enough…" she kissed him again… "you won't have to worry about work at all."

Piccolo pushed her away slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Piccolo, that I know a way to overthrow Hitler."

"You're crazy, woman."

"Crazy about you, yes. But I know what I'm talking about."

"And what is it?"

"You'll learn soon enough…" She started kissing him again.

Don't anybody give me grief about Piccolo being asexual. If I want him to be a he, that's that. And Piccolo having a make-out session with Haski might be OOC for him, but not exactly for her…so…if you read my bio, you'll see I support P/H.

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