Bad

b2


Johnson
Johnson
17
463
2002-05-19T03:14:00Z
2002-06-12T03:24:00Z
5
1924
10970
91
21
13471
9.4402







Disclaimer: I don’t
own ‘em, nope not at all. They’re not
mine. DBZ/DBGT and any possible song I might decide to dd to spice things up
are in no way, shape, or form whatsoever mine.
Right now The Offspring’s ‘I Want You Bad’ is fueling my creative juices
but, like I said, it’s not mine…damn.

 

BAD

Chapter 2…Dodge Ball?

By: Ember Maxximus

 

Twinkling stars blanketed the indigo evening heavens as the
cool inviting night breeze whipped through my tousled aqua locks. On eves like this, I enjoy sitting here. This is my quiet spot, my place to relax,
unwind, and cleanse my thoughts. I’ve
come here countless times since I was a child, the domed rooftops of my home,
Capsule Corporation. I take pleasure in
the solitude of being here, away from everything, yet not. I can still hear the traffic passing by and
I can smell Mom, Kami bless her heart, burning dinner below. Pappa says I come here to meditate…whatever. I come here to think, as if I’d be caught
dead floating Indian style becoming one with nature, and tonight I had quit a
bit on my mind. Son Goten mostly and
his feet sure must be tired because he’s been running through my mind all
day…among other things. When this
petite attraction began, I don’t know.
All I can recall is that it has always existed in some way, shape, or
form and as time passed it matured into this aching, relentless need for
him.

 

For some reason, I really didn’t expect it to be so
different with him as it is ever has been with any other member of the opposite
sex. With any other man, all I’d have
to do is lick my lips and give them the ‘come hither’ look and they almost
always fall all over themselves to please me.
It figures the one time I am truly serious about someone that he’d turn
into an obstinate knucklehead. Must be
some sort of ingrained Saiyan male instinct, I can recall on more occasions
than I have fingers and toes to count on that Pappa and Trunks have been stuck
on stupid too. Men.

 

I know I’m not lacking in the looks department, or for that
matter in the brains or boobs department, either. I remember an old beau once telling me that I was built like a
shit brick house, I sort of like that analogy.
Not that I’m narcissistic, I’m just aware of my assets and how to use
them to my advantage, which reminds me of a little red outfit buried in the
depths of my closet. I remember how
Pappa and Trunks cringed when they first saw me sport it, but they surprisingly
held their tongues. I believe Mom told
them it was just a phase and I think Trunks had to defend my honor a few times
over it, not that I can’t fight my own battles, it’s just that for some reason
people find it easier to say things while I’m out of earshot.

 

Below, I can hear my balcony door sliding open and moments
later I am joined by my brother. Speak
of the devil. He sits besides me,
gauging my disheveled appearance. He
knows better than to be here, this is my spot. I don’t bother him during his nighttime flights. Is it too much to ask for to receive the
same common courtesy that I give him?
Purple haired fucker.

 

He waits several minutes, hoping that I might break the
silence first, while I pray he’d get a clue and go away, but it seems lady luck
is not with me today. He takes a deep
breath preparing to speak, “Kami, B, you smell rancid. I don’t know about you, but I normally take
showers after I train.” So I see he’s
decided to take the humorous path to break the silence…ha, ha…typical
Trunks. He’ll have to try harder than
that. “You want to talk about it?” he
asks sincerely.

 

“Quite being a hemorrhoid, Trunks, ototoi koi*,” I
glare blue daggers of death at him and he laughs…laughs. “What’s so funny?” I ask venomously, turning to face him.

 

“You smell like Goten too,” he chuckled, smirking like our
father.

 

“And that’s funny how?” I countered sarcastically, undoing
the long, dirty plait from my hair and running my fingers through the tangled
sea fcolocolored locks.

 

“It must be something important for you to meditate out here
past 2 a.m. about it,” he counters, determined to get me to open up. I wonder if Mom sent him up here. Urgh!

 

 

“I am not meditating, just thinking,” I angrily tell
him. I turn to face him and see a look
of genuine concern in his sparkling blue eyes, so much like my own, and I feel
guilty for snapping at him and calling names.
“Did you say 2 a.m.?” I asked
very perplexed, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I’d been out here for
so long.

 

“Meditate:
To keep the mind in a state of contemplation; to dwell on anything in thought;
to think seriously; to muse; to cogitate; to reflect or to train, calm,
and empty the mind, often by achieving an altered state, as by focusing on a
single object. Now, what were you
doing?” Trunks shot at me, lifting one
lavender eyebrow like the know it all that he was, although he often tried to
hide that fact. I can’t believe he just
gave me the verbatim of the Webster’s Dictionary definition, what a dork.
However, his remark did bring a smile to my lips.

 

“Nobody
likes a smartass, Trunks!” I inform
even though I found his brand of humor comical, no matter the situation. He’s always shined in his role as the big
brother, my big brother, Trunks.

 

Flipping
to serious mode, he asks, “Guy trouble?”
I bite my lower lip. He knows
the topic of my love life is a taboo subject; I have no idea why he’d even try
to go there. I do not wish to discuss
men, especially Goten, with my brother but as my thoughts return to earlier
they betray me. I can feel a warm blush
touching my cheeks. Damn it.

 

“We
are not having this discussion,” I tell him in my best ‘no ifs, ands, buts, or
maybes’ tone.

 

I
start to rise only to find that Trunks has grabbed my wrist, “Wait,” he
pleads. Like I have a choice with his
unyielding grip. “Bra, you’re a smart and beautiful woman and if that idiot
can’t see this, then it’s his loss.” I
smile at him and kissed him lightly on his cheek. If he only knew who I’ve been pining for, I’m sure his little pep
talk wouldn’t of gone quite like that.

 

“Thanks,
but I haven’t given up on him yet.” He
releases my arm and I rise, jumping from roofroof onto my balcony followed by
Trunks.

 

“Hey,
B, good luck,” Trunks calls as he leaves my room, I assume, to go to his own
private floor two levels up. For the
first time since coming home I notice how awful I do smell, maybe a long hot
bubble bath would do me a world of good.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

It’s
been three days and I haven’t seen Goten.
The little shit is avoiding me.
What is he thinking…that I bite?
I snicker at my own funny. Ya,
so what if I do, but that’s beside the point. I haven’t seen him around much
lately and that’s certainly saying something because he’s always been there,
coming to my house daily…religiously, as I worshipped him from afar, but from
this day forth it will all be very different, screw afarness.

 

I
looked down at the face of my diamond encrusted gold Cartier watch, 6 p.m. Goten should be getting off of work in an
hour or so. I bet I could sweet-talk
that bottomless pit of his into going out to wit with me; certainly the way to
his heart is through his stomach, what man can resist pizza and beer.

 

I
decided to drive rather than fly, especially since he worked in Satan City, I’m
not too fond of the attention I receive when I fly over highly populated
areas.

 

I
arrived at the Satan City Youth Outreach Center at half past six. Encapsulating my Ducate’ airbike, I strode
into the center searching out Son Goten, it didn’t take me long either to find
him. He was in the gym slaughtering a
group of adolescents at dodge ball. The
whole scene was quite humorous, twelve against one. It just wasn’t fair, not at all.
I don’t think those kids would’ve even had a snowball’s chance in hell
if Goten just so happened to be blindfolded and had one arm tied behind his
back. As much as he was restraining
himself from using his super strength and agility, he was still beating the
snot out of the group.

 

“Hey
stranger,” I call out across the gym to him.
All eyes are on me as I make my way across the sports hall. Turning my focus on the children, I ask,
“Does he ever let you guys win?”

 

A
skinny girl with braces and freckles answers, “Nope, he’s the king of dodge
ball. He’s never been beaten yet.”

 

“Never?”
I inquire to the girl. Lifting one
arched blue eyebrow, I turn to Mr. M.I.A., “The king, eh?” Looking like a child caught with his hand in
the cookie jar he doe ans answer. I
walk towards the side of the gymnasium with the remaining dodge ball participants
and asked the freckled girl, “So what do we get when we win?”

 

“Mr.
Goten says if we win, then whoever is left standing on the winning side is
allowed to ask for a special favor as long as it isn’t something silly like a
million zeni. But he always wins and
makes us do our homework and stuff for his favor but one day,” the little
freckled faced girl lifted her fist into the air with a dreamlike expression on
her face, “one day we will win.”

 

“Maybe
that day is today, ne? How about we
overthrow the monarchy?” I say in loud enthusiastic voice.

 

“You
think we have a chance Ms. lady?” asked a husky mulatto boy skeptically.

 

“Bra,
my name is Bra.” Ms. Lady, I cringed at the name. I ushered all the children in closely to me, bending to their
height I informed them, “I don’t know if you guys know this but I’m the
Princess of the Saiyans and that means I so rule over third class self
proclaimed kings of dodge ball. So how
about we clean the floor him?” I ask finishing my pep talk. The children all
nodded their heads, happily accepting any help to end their losing streak. Putting my fist in the center of our huddle,
all the kids piled their dirty little hands atop mine, “Anarchy on three, okay
guys.” We all said the beautiful word
in unison and a Japanese girl with a short chin length bob tossed me the ball,
the game was now afoot. I wasted no
time torpedoing the ball at my mark.
The ball missed him by a tenth of a millimeter, damn it I was so
close. Then he returned the red ball in
one swift overhand pitch hitting three of my team members in one fluke shot.

 

“Son
Luck,” I gritted through my teeth at him, growling.

 

“Uh-uh,
I’m just that good,” he replied in a very cocky tone with a game face akin to
his sire’s battle mug. While he talked,
another one of my team members slingshoted the ball right at his midsection,
which he easily caught and volleyed right back at him taking the boy right out
of the game. This pace continued until
it was just he and I; the last two remaining players of this brutal take no
prisoners battle. Kami, I was so rusty
at this game, I haven’t played it since grade school while this baka is
obviously a seasoned veteran. The only
way I’ll be able to win is to pull an ace out of my sleeve otherwise known as
the girl card. The ball was in my
clutches, I chucked it at my opponent and he caught it, as I suspected he
would. I jumped high into the air,
without flying, making myself a moving target.
Goten catapulted the red orb at me and I caught it, but I faked a nasty
fall on my knee. So there I sat on my
rear end rubbing my not so sore knee.

 

“Are
you okay, Ms. Bra?” I heard in the background, followed by the freckled girl
saying, “Mr. Goten is she okay?”

 

He turned to replay to little girl. “She’s
just faking Isabel, she’ll get up in a sec-“ Then BAM! I pitched the ball with super speed and it
collided right with his sitdowner. I
hopped up from my place on the floor and began doing my ‘in your face happy
dance of joy’. The kids all ran to me,
their savior and light in the darkness, for I have slew Goliath…WooHoo!

 

“Okay
everybody, good game. Now go wash up and make sure your things are in
order. Your parents should be here
soon.” He smiled at the celebrating
children. I was surprised to see all
the children obediently and without complaint, scatter to do as they were told,
leaving Goten and I alone. “So, B,” he
started digging his hands deep into the pockets of his loose fitting Levi’s,
“What are you doing here?”

 

“Playing
dodge ball, duh.” I innocently answered, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

 

“That’s
not what I meant, Bra.” He smiled, looking kindly at me with that sweet
expression of his and those soft lips that just begged to kissed, “What’cha
want?”

 

I
leaned in close to him, whispering in his ear, “I want you in a vinyl suit,”
then stepping back, I smiled, “but that’s not going to happen,” at least
not tonight, “How about dinner, my treat, anything you want, as long as its
pizza.”

 

“You’re
something else B, let me get everything closed up here and we’ll go,” he
chuckled, running his fingers through his remnants of his moused up spiky
locks.

 

“Great!”
I was elated and so relieved that he’s not acting schoolboy weird around me, I
don’t think I would be able to deal with that. So there goes my baby walking
out the gym to deal with the last of the kids and his coworkers. Wow!
Look at that Grade A hunk of beefcake.
I couldn’t help but gawk as he left, watching the fluid movement of his
gait and the outline of that perfect physique beneath his clothes. Mmm…Complicated and x-rated, I want
him bad.

 

TO
BE CONTINUED…

 

*ototoi koi – bug off, literally disappear yesterday