Chapter Six
By: Kureeji
Bulma stared at the blood results. She frowned. “I knew she should have been more banged up than she was.” She sighed, hating herself for ignoring her hunches. “Cohi….” (coffee in Japanese) She said zombie like, stalking to the kitchen. “I need cohi!”
Pan’s feet plodded down the long and empty halls of Capsule Corporation.
She listened carefully, aware of every sound and happening around her. You don’t
live for 16 years with killer Androids roaming around without learning a few
“stealth” skills.
She glanced at the ugly purple bruise on her arm, and covered it with her other hand. The loose material of her torn tank top flapped behind her in her haste. She glanced at her wrist, the silver bracelet glinting.
“Oh, damn you.” She cursed at the jewelry. “This is all your fault…” She searched the halls anxiously. Where was the freaking exit in this place?
She slowed, unconsciously, as she came across the collection of pictures that dotted the halls. She stared. In one picture Bulma, a much younger Bulma, sat enveloped in muscular arms. A man with quite unruly black hair scowled over her forehead, eyes set in an intense stare. Her eyes wandered to another picture, of a little boy, perhaps 4, with fluffy pink hair, hanging on the same man’s forearms. Despite the man’s annoyed look, the laughter in his eyes told his story all too well.
She took a step closer, peering at the little boy. “Hey…” She reached out, touching the glossy covering, “That’s that guy…”
“What are you doing?” A gruff sounding voice echoed in the hallway. Pan jumped, and quickly drew her hand away from the wall. Trunks, as Bulma called him, stared hard through wisps of lavender hair.
“What does it look like?” She asked tartly, her frown increasing. “I’m leaving. How do I get out of this place?”
“Excuse me?” Trunks asked, sounding annoyed. “You aren’t
going anywhere.”
She ran her hands through her short spiky black hair. “Wow.” She said sarcastically. “Didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t.” Trunks stated, lifting a purple eyebrow and crossing
his arms. “ I really couldn’t care less what happens to ugly, malnourished
street punks. The only reason
I saved all the humans is because of my mentor and my friends. The rest of you
could have died.”
Pan’s lip raised, and she bared her teeth. In the dim light, Trunks could almost make out the points, slightly more defined than a normal human.
“Ugly?” She asked, looking a little bit demonic. “ At least I am not a love child. What kind of cheap one night stand did you result from, pretty boy?”
Trunks’ instincts took over. Actually, in a Saiyajins case, that meant Pan got a nice slap to the face.
“OWW!” She said whining. Lifting her head up, she added, “That
almost stung…” She smiled sweetly.
Trunks hand twitched, but he resisted the urge to slap her again. He sighed, and closed his eyes. “Come… with… me… now…” He said solidly.
“Um…no?” Pan said, a face of confusion.
“Wrong answer.” Trunks replied, grabbing her and slinging her over his shoulder.
“Hey! Put me down, you perv!” She yelped, banging her petite fists on his back. Trunks couldn’t help but wince and be disgusted at such physical contact with the cheap street rat. He grunted in reply, suddenly feeling like the man his mother once described as his father. After a few minutes, the rapid beating slowed and finally stopped.
“Is this going to be the pattern of our relationship?” She asked stupidly.
Despite all his brain was screaming at him, a Saiyajin-like smile crept upon his face