Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ WW3: The Zen Resistance ❯ Females ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer-I own nothing but Briana and Whitney

Females

Krillin balanced the box on top of his head, both his hands on the sides. He had been assigned as a mover, one who took finished products out via box to a truck to be shipped. It was a crappy job with crappy pay, but at least he wasn't sweating to death in the factories. He was out in the open air, where even in 100 degree weather it was cooler than inside the factories.

"That's the last of it," his co-worker, Tien, said, brushing his hands back and forth. He glanced up at the sun, to poor to have a watch. "By the looks if it, it's noon. Work doesn't end for 9 more hours, and they won't be finished with another batch today."

Krillin sat down on the sidewalk. "I guess we just wait. Got cards?"

Both of them smiled weakly. All non-Aryans were forbidden from manufactured forms of amusement. Children, when they weren't busy working, threw together makeshift skateboards with spare parts from the trash heap. Adults were almost always busy. A break in work like Tien and Krillin's was rare, and when it did happen, the workers were expected to stay at work.

"How's Maron?" Tien asked. They might as well talk about girls.

Maron Brief was Bulma's twin. They were fraternal twins, which was why one wasn't killed. While they looked almost exactly like, they acted totally different. Bulma was smart for never having been to school while Maron was ditzy. Bulma kept quiet while Maron acted out. Bulma stuck with commitment while Maron flitted from boy to boy. No one knew why boys were attracted to Maron while Bulma had to pick out her own men. Maybe Maron had this aura that said 'easy'.

Like Bulma, Maron was Half-Aryan. The two were children of an Aryan mother and a non-Aryan father. Having shamed both their races, the Brief family lived in their own section of the city.

Krillin sighed. "The same. This time she's giving goo-goo eyes to Hercule."

Tien bit back a laugh, and a chuckle escaped. The two of them WOULD fit together, that was true. Neither was exactly bright, and both were Half-Aryan Earthlings. "Sorry to hear that."

Krillin shrugged. "I expect that much from her. How's Launch?"

"Her usual self."

"And since that can be 2 different things, which usual self?"

Tien smirked. Despite her tries to master it, her schizophrenia normally got the better of her. There was an odd transformation whenever she sneezed. The first sneeze changed her into a blonde-haired, blue-eyed homicidal maniac named Kashumi, who pulled guns out of nowhere and shot at whomever might be moving. Another sneeze changed her back into the happy homemaker Launch. "Both."

"I see." Krillin grinned. "So, has Hitler decided what to make of her yet?"

Because of her appearance switch when she turned into Kashumi, the government hadn't been sure what to brand her as, and had just recently come to a decision. "When she's Launch, she non-Aryan. When she's Kashumi, she's Aryan."

"Which doe she prefer?"

Tien grinned. "Launch. Non-Aryan."

"Lucky dog," Krillin said. "If Maron had that choice, she'd stay Aryan and totally blow me off."

"Krillin, for God's sake, break it off with her already. I know she's the only girl to even look at you sideways…"

"Hey!"

"…but she's not worth it. Besides, she's Half and you're Non."

"Chichi's Non and Goku's Saiyan, and they seem to have a pretty good relationship."

"Only because they're smart enough to keep a secret. Maron is so ditzy, she'd yell it out to the entire world if you told her to."

Krillin half-smiled. "Got me there."

Tien laughed. "Sorry, Krillin, but I honestly don't think she's the one for you."

"17?" 18 stood in the doorway of the basement, the open door offering the only light in the entire room. In her hand was a bowl of soup and in her other hand was a flashlight. "It's me."

"18 or Whitney?"

"18." She walked in and shut the door behind her. Tucking the soup into the crook of her arm, she turned on the flashlight. A small circle of light bounced off the wall until it found its target, the Half-Aryan 17 Gero. She went towards him and knelt next to him. "I brought you some soup."

"Thanks." He took it from her and brought it to his mouth, taking a gulp. He swallowed, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and looked up at her. "Whitney's become a more frequent visitor than you."

"Yeah, well, Father's been making me help him in his lab. I don't want anything to do with that $#!t-head Hitler, but Dad's forcing me, y'know?"

"Yeah. Dad's hair…is it still blonde?"

"No, he's so old his hair's white, but because he was born blonde, he's still Aryan."

"Lucky him."

18 sighed. "You're lucky you're not out there. It's getting even worse. Goku and Chichi came to see me. Chichi was so sick she could barely walk, and those holes in her clothes showed that her entire left side is bruised. Hip up, nothing but black and blue."

"At least she's out there living. I'm going crazy just sitting here, wondering when you or Whitney will visit. Thinking about how I hate this world and how I'd kill myself if it weren't for…" He stopped short.

"For me and Whitney?" 18 supplied, smiling weakly. "You know, you and Whitney CAN get together. You're both Half." (A/N: Mental picture of Whitney: 5'4, bright blonde hair with streaks of brown, hazel eyes, square-ish face, tan complexion, big bust for a 14-year-old, red shirt, tan pants)

"Yeah, well, if I wasn't locked in here like some federal criminal, maybe we could," 17 said bitterly.

"Well…" 18 paused. She put her hand on 17's hand, which was balanced in his knee. "When Mother and Father die, I'll take you out of here. You KNOW that, 17."

"Yeah, I know. My only question is when will they die?"

"What a lovely thing to say about our parents."

"What parents lock their kid in a basement because he has black hair? I don't have parents."

"Yeah." 18 looked away. "Neither do I."

"Haski, what are you talking about?" Piccolo demanded, once again pulling back. "How do you know a way to overthrow Hitler?"

"Piccolo. I'm a creature of the Underworld, remember? Everything said, I hear."

"Don't toy with me, Haski."

Haski looked around. "Look, gather all of our friends and tell them to meet us in your apartment's basement."

"So, you figure we'll all commit suicide by getting tetanus in that rusted-out $#!t-hole called a basement? That's how we'll be free of Hitler?"

"Piccolo!" Haski looked exasperated. "Do you want to get rid of Hitler or not?"

"Of course I wanna kill the @$$hole."

"Then do what I say!" Haski glanced at her watch. Being an Aryan, she could afford one. "Crap, it's later than I thought. Listen, get everyone and meet us at nine in your basement, OK?"

"Sure, sure."

They separated.

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