I’m lookin’ for a place

I’m searchin’ for a face

Is anybody here I know

Cause nothin’s goin’ right,

And everything’s a mess,

And no one likes to be alone…

- Avril Lavigne (I’m with you)

FIELD TRIP FOUR:

The only sound that filled the tiny steel enclosed room was that of beeps from the heart monitoring machines in the corner. A long line of wires connected to the pale flesh on the narrow bed seemed to be the only sign of color in the pure white room. The figure lay immobile on the bed as still as death. Dark locks fluttered around the face that looked serene and almost beautiful in sleep and white sheets were pulled up to its neck, covering the naked flesh beneath.

The thermometer on the wall read a staggering fifteen degrees and one could make out the wisps of cold air that rushed out of the slightly parted lips.

The metal doors opened and a figure dressed in a white plastic suit complete with a helmet, stepped in soundlessly. In one thick-gloved hand, a syringe filled with a weak green liquid was held precariously. The covered head lifted to stare at the ceiling for confirmation of sorts, before walking towards the prone figure. A quick check of the pulse and at the machine warranted a small nod of approval. The sheet was pulled down to reveal the pale chest and tapping the syringe gently, the sharp needle pierced through the skin as the drug was slowly emptied into the body.

High above the scene, a team of five doctors all dressed in lab whites and a perplexed Bardock watched the events with mute fascination. As soon as the drug was given, all eyes turned to the series of screens that stood at their right. One of the scientists gave a small snort as no changes were recorded.

“Simply amazing. The boy’s mental capabilities seem to be way beyond our imagination.”

Bardock shook his head and frowned in consternation. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that none of the amnesia serums are working, my Lord. We have given him over ten times the normal dosage and still he retains memories of your son and the…uh…activities they had gone through.”

Bardock growled and placed his hands on the console before him. He glared hatefully at the boy below and slammed a fist into the machine in frustration. “Another failure.” He muttered. “Christ! Where am I going to find the perfect boy for the tests?!”

“I thought your son was bringing someone new, sir?”

Bardock gave a curt nod and pushed himself away from the flat surface. “Yes, he is. He gave me a guarantee. I should be expecting the boy by tomorrow night…”

“My Lord Bardock, sir.”

All spun around at the greeting as a man in a black suit held out a mobile phone. Bardock quirked a brow in question. “It is Piccolo, sir.” Came the curt reply.

The billionaire muttered something beneath his breath and snatched the phone rather roughly from the servant. “Excuse me, gentlemen…lady. I will be back in a few minutes.” He gave them a wan smile and stepped out of the room quickly. Once away from the vicinity of prying eyes and ears, he barked out harshly into the phone. “What is it now, Piccolo? And this had better be good.”

The green-skinned man eyed the situation before him before sighing softly. “I am afraid we have a problem, sir.”

“A problem?” came the deceptively calm voice at the other end. “And pray do tell, what this problem is.”

Piccolo gripped the phone even tighter as the figure stepped out of the police car and began to walk towards the limousine. “I think we have been spotted by the chief of police, sir.”

Bardock swore beneath his breath. “That goody-two-shoes, Gohan, right?”

Piccolo nodded and narrowed his eyes as he watched said chief ask the limo driver to step out of the car. “What do you want me to do, sir? We are in a relatively quiet place. I could eliminate him from the picture…”

“Are you out of your mind? You know as well as I do that we cannot do that at this time. Play nice and give him what he wants, but do not give too much away. Where the hell are you anyway?”

“About a mile away from the race tracks where Kakkarrot was earlier this evening.”

“Wha…?”

“I was going out to see how far he had progressed in getting the next patient, sir.”

Bardock tapped his fingers against the wall restlessly. “And?”

Piccolo closed his eyes and spoke carefully, hoping his boss would not erupt in anger. “There was an accident, sir. Kakkarrot’s prey…seemed to be involved in a car crash and he has followed them to the hospital.”

For several moments nothing was heard from the other end and Piccolo knew that Bardock was furious. A perfectionist in every sense of the word, the dark-haired man hated things not going according to plan. After what seemed to be an eternity, Bardock’s cool voice came over the line. “Deal with Gohan for the meantime, Piccolo. I will get back to you on Kakkarrot’s situation later on, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He closed the phone and tucked the tiny device into the pocket of his coat. And glancing over at the talking duo in the corner, he began to make his way towards the young officer.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The little boy’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a vase smashing against a wall. He could clearly hear their voices, each rising as the other sought to be heard.

“Daddy’s home.” He whispered softly.

He pulled away the dark blue blanket and got out of his bed. Dressed in his favorite pajamas, he rubbed his eyes wearily and carefully opened up the door to his large bedroom. Leaving it slightly ajar - so as not to give himself away, he tiptoed across the carpeted floor, stopping as he reached the top of the grandeur stairs. He couldn’t see his parents, but he could see their shadows spilling out from the living room.

He crouched and held onto the wooden balustrades, eyes widening with each swear word and curse that was hurled out. Accusations and lies. Secrets yet to be unfurled…

“I cannot believe you kept on sleeping with that bitch!! How can I trust you any longer?!”

“Don’t you give me that, you slut! I caught you with that bastard last week and you have the guts to tell me to stay away from her?!”

“I hate you!! I can’t stand you!! I can’t stand this fucking marriage!! I want a divorce, you hear me?!”

The boy closed his eyes and muttered softly to himself. “Divorce…the act of a married couple separating. A divorce…two people leaving each other.”

“Shut up, you whore!!”

“Fuck you too, you ungrateful ingrate!!”

Another thing smashing. The boy’s hands tightened on the balustrades. Tears streamed down his face but he didn’t notice. The word divorce kept ringing in his head over and over and over again. “To…to…se…se...parate…”

A slap was heard, which was quickly followed by a piercing scream that sent the boy’s hands over his ears quickly. He could still hear the scuffle as the sound of flesh hitting flesh continued to fill his ears. The pain…

“Stop it.” He whispered achingly, his body trembling in confusion and frustration. “Stop it, please. Daddy…Mommy…”

“I will kill you!!”

“Not if I kill you first!!’

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

The scuffle stopped and both parents ran out to see the shaking figure of their only child standing on the stairs above them. The woman raised a hand to her bleeding lips, gasping softly. “Oh, Vegeta…honey…we didn’t mean to…”

“Son…what your mother and I were doing…”

“I…I…I HATE YOU BOTH!!” And spinning around, he ran back into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He sank to the floor and raised his knees up, burying his face within them even as the sounds of his parent’s pleas reached his ears. He rocked himself back and forth and continued to mutter softly to himself. “Hate…hate you both…I hate you both…and I wish you were both dead.”

~*~*~*~*~

Vegeta stared out of the hospital window, hands clenching into unconscious fists on his lap. Why in Kami’s name was he rehashing such a painful memory? Especially when he had thousands to choose from.

~ Because it was the beginning of the chaos. The calm before the storm… ~

Almost ten years ago to this day, his parents had begun their downward spiral into destruction and turmoil. They had decided not to get divorced after all, but what good had that done for the family? For all they knew, each could have been a complete and total stranger to the other. Vegeta rarely got to speak to them and he couldn’t remember the last time they had actually sat down for a meal…on the same table. They didn’t care anymore. They had never really cared in the first place. Sometimes, Vegeta could swear that he had become invisible to his parents for all the affection that was thrown at him.

He came from a wealthy home, but rather than ask his father for money, Vegeta worked for it. Hence, his stint at the racetracks. His parents didn’t know this, of course. He wouldn’t have told them anyways, even if they had threatened to disown him – which he wouldn’t have minded come to think of it.

He was a troublemaker at school but not by choice. So, he was quiet and rather kept to himself, but his tendency to erupt at any slight disturbance on his persona had sent many a teacher and student complaining to the administrators about his behavior. Detention upon detentions had piled up. Suspensions and even the threat of expulsion had had his parents finally taking notice for the first time. But he didn’t care. He had long given up caring for anything much anymore. Maybe that was his reason for racing. The thought of going so fast and losing your mind on anything else that concerned reality was refreshing to him.

He lifted his bandaged arm and grimaced. Was this it for him then? No more racing thanks to Trunks and his measly attempt to get him off track? Vegeta scowled as he remembered the events that had led up to the accident. Trunks had clearly meant to send him careening into the wall…but why? The purple-haired boy had never had to resort to such means before no matter how many times he had lost to Vegeta. Why today? Why take such a risk when the probabilities of getting disqualified were so high?

“Idiot.” He mumbled softly as he pushed himself off the bed. He stood rather shakily in the plain green hospital gown, shivering slightly as the cold hit his bareback and legs. Steadying himself, he walked towards the green plastic curtain that separated his bed from the other patient in the room. He pulled it aside roughly and glared at the pair of blue eyes that glared right back at him.

For several seconds nothing was said as both boys fed off each other’s fury. Trunks looked no better than he. One side of his handsome face was wrapped in bandages, so were an arm and a leg.

“You should have died.” Vegeta commented dryly.

“I should have finished you off.” Trunks countered back with equal wariness.

Vegeta snorted and smirked coldly. “What the hell were you thinking? That you could run me off track? What were you trying to do? Get yourself disqualified?”

Trunks stared at his rival for a few more seconds before turning his face away to stare blindly at the vase of flowers on the side table. “You don’t understand anything.”

Vegeta’s grip tightened on the curtain that he had been holding onto. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Go to bed, Vegeta,” came the weary and resigned tone. “I am in no mood to talk to you at this time.

Vegeta growled and stepped closer to the bed, rudely placing a hand on Trunks’s chin to turn his face around. “Don’t give me that, Trunks! You were deliberately trying to get me killed! And you think I am just going to sit here and take that kind of shit from you?! Did you want to get disqualified?!”

“I don’t care, Vegeta! You hear me! I just don’t give a fuck anymore! Now get your hand away from me before I break it as well!”

Both now panting and heaving with their intense gamut of emotions, Vegeta reluctantly released Trunks with a snort. “For someone who doesn’t care, you sure make it a point of duty to appear in every goddamn race.”

Trunks sighed. “Not everyone is like you, Vegeta.” He mumbled out softly. “We don’t all have the same passion and love for the sport like you do. Left to me…you wouldn’t be seeing me on that damn track at all.”

The dark-haired boy blinked in confusion. “What are you saying? Christ, Trunks! Everyone knows that you are the best driver out there…besides me…”

“That’s not the point, Vegeta!”

“Then what is the fucking point?!”

“Like you would care. Just let it rest, okay? I really need to be resting. The drug is beginning to work on my system faster than I had thought.” Trunks turned his head away again and closed his eyes, successfully declaring the conversation over and done with.

Not satisfied at the vagueness of his rival’s answer, Vegeta walked around the room restlessly for a few minutes before making his way to the door. He opened it up slowly and peered out cautiously. The waiting room was a few feet away and he could already make out the uniforms of some of the guys that worked at the shop with him.

~ Naturally. They would come to make sure that I wasn’t too hurt so I could compete in the next race for them. Bastards. ~

But somehow, Vegeta couldn’t shake off the dull warmth of…gratitude that flowed through his body. He did not have friends, but he sure as hell had people who could come by and pay him a visit. His warmth grew as he noticed the familiar blue hair that could only belong to Bulma. She was making her way towards the coffee machine that stood in a corner and from his vantage point, Vegeta could see that the girl looked rather distracted. He was about to motion her over, when his handsome apprentice stepped up to her with a small smile. Unconsciously, his hand gripped the door handle with more force than necessary. He couldn’t stop the low growl that spilled from his throat as he watched Goku place a hand on her shoulder. But the next event that took place left him a bit stumped for words. Bulma brushed his hands away and refused to look at Goku.

~ Geez…I thought they were getting all chummy at the race tonight. What happened? A lover’s quarrel already? ~

“What are you looking at?”

Vegeta jumped and spun around to glare at Trunks who was standing behind him, leaning heavily on crutches. Finding himself blushing at the close proximity, Vegeta growled out angrily. “I thought you were supposed to be sleeping?”

“With you walking around like a caged lion? I would rather sleep on a bed of nails. Now, get out of the way. What were you looking at?” He shoved Vegeta lightly and peered out of the door as well. “Ah, Bulma is here and those guys from your crew.”

“Yeah, so?” Vegeta grumbled, but when Trunks didn’t answer, he turned back to see what had held the boy’s attention. His unease grew as he saw Trunks watch Goku with acute interest. “What the hell are you looking at now?”

Trunks smiled softly. “Is he a member of your crew too?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing. He is…cute.”

Vegeta pushed Trunks back inside, almost sending the crippled boy to the floor in his haste, and slammed the door shut. “He is not cute and he is a nobody, okay?”

The purple-haired boy hobbled to his bed and sat heavily on it. “For someone who is a nobody, he seems quite comfortable with the others.”

Vegeta stomped back to his bed and made himself comfortable within the sheets again, deliberately avoiding Trunk’s teasing eyes. His blush wasn’t even fading in the slightest and this annoyed him to no end. “Drop it, Trunks. Maybe we both should get some sleep. It’s been quite an excitable day…after all, I have you to thank for that.”

Trunks’ chuckle sent him punching his pillow in frustration. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Came the amused reply as the sounds of sheets being ruffled were heard. “I mean if I didn’t know any better, I would swear you were acting…jealous.”

Vegeta couldn’t even find the words to say in reply. Jealous? Him, jealous of that brain-dead apprentice of his? Like hell!

~ I am not jealous! I am not jealous!! I am not jealous!!! ~

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bulma stared into her coffee, not really seeing anything at all. She sat stiffly on the red chair with her head bowed in thought. From meeting Goku, to the strange conversation she had heard between he and that green-skinned man to Vegeta and Trunks’s collision…the night had begun to take on a surreal feel. Her shoulder still tingled from the warmth of Goku’s hand on it and it had taken all of her strength not to scream for him to tell his true identity.

Light laughter caused her to lift her head and she stared at Goku, who was currently sharing some joke with Krillen and some of the other mechanics.

~ He looks so…innocent and dumb-looking. But beneath that façade could be a murderer! ~

At that moment, Goku turned around and their gazes locked. Bulma’s hand tightened around the plastic cup as she watched those dark eyes flicker with something that she couldn’t quite decipher before it was replaced with a smile. He waved lightly and ignoring it, she rose to her feet and walked towards the window. It wouldn’t do to give too much away. She had to get herself to act cool, but how could she? She would have to find the time to tell Vegeta all that she had heard. His life could be in danger.

~ I will protect you, Vegeta. No matter what happens. I will protect you with my life, I swear it! ~

~*~*~*~*~

Gohan wasn’t really sure on what had made him want to stop the black limousine in the first place. But gut instinct had taken over and now here he was talking to a flustered driver that sounded and looked just as clueless. But it wasn’t the driver he was concerned about, it was the tall green-skinned man with the dark sunglasses (even if it was about eleven at night) that stood in the corner looking quite ominous and intimidating.

~ Keep your cool. You have handled worse looking criminals before. ~

And why in the world was he assuming that this guy was a criminal? He swallowed tightly as he watched the being walk towards him. He adjusted his hat and tried to maintain a composed and dignified posture. He tapped his pen against his notepad and dared to stare at the person that had now stopped within inches from him. He had to lift his head and in so doing, he was met with intense black eyes that seemed to sear right through his soul.

“May I help you with something, officer? We weren’t in any violation of any laws, were we?”

To be honest, they hadn’t been in violation of anything at all, but Gohan had felt the need to stop them. But how could he explain that to this…this…giant? He licked his lips and kicked himself inwardly for blushing.

“Uh…are you…are you the owner of this vehicle?” Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!

Piccolo arched a brow and stared at the limousine. “Do you mean this…limo, Officer?”

Gohan’s embarrassment was growing by the minute. The man was clearly mocking him.

“Yes…I meant the limousine.”

“No.”

The young officer blinked at the curt reply. “No…no? Then…why…?”

“It belongs to the company I work for. We are allowed to use them on a limited basis and this so happened to be my lucky night.”

“Oh…uh…I see.”

Man, how naïve could this guy be? That was the only thing that seemed to swirl around Piccolo’s head at this point. But he couldn’t deny that Gohan was quite pleasing to the eye. Behind that dumb act was an intelligence that couldn’t be denied. He was the Chief of Police after all. Piccolo was sure he hadn’t gotten to that position by being just another pretty face. He gave a long-suffering sigh and slipped the sunglasses back on his face. “Is there anything else that you wanted from us, Officer? I have to get back home now. It has been a long day.”

Gohan shook his head rapidly and cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. I will not keep you any longer, Mister…?”

“Nail.”

“Nail??”

“Yes?”

“Your name is…Nail?”

“Gohan isn’t exactly such a prize-winning name either.”

“Hey! I am proud of my name!”

“So am I, Officer.”

For a moment, both men stared at each other as if wondering why they were playing such a ridiculous game. “Grrr…it doesn’t matter anyway, Mr. Nail. You are free to go. I am sorry for holding you up like this…it’s just that…”

Piccolo eyed him as Gohan had stopped. “Yes?” he prodded rather impatiently.

Gohan stared at the floor with a heavy sigh. “It’s just that this case is really beginning to wear me out. I mean… missing boys? Who would want to do such a thing? What could the person possibly achieve by doing such a sick and demented…”

Piccolo snarled and began to walk away. “I am sorry to have to interrupt your speech, but whatever happens to this city is no concern of mine. You are the Chief, you handle the dirty laundry. Have a good night.”

Gohan’s face darkened with humiliation. He watched the limousine pull away and he clenched his free hand into a tight fist. How could he have done such a thing? To tell his inner most fears to a complete stranger?!

~ Fuck this! ~

He walked into his car and promptly picked up the phone. “Hey…yeah. Could you get me, Miles from the records department…cool…I will wait.” He tapped his hands restlessly on the dashboard. “Ah…Miles, how’s it going? That’s good to hear….now listen, I have something I want you to do for me, okay? Go through your records and look for the car with license plate number XA123….yeah, it’s supposed to be a company car or something and could you do me another favor? Go through your files and check for someone by the name of Nail….thanks a lot, buddy. Oh, least I forget…did you find anything on that Goku guy? No? Nothing at all? Does not exist, huh? What about the composite sketch we gave you? I know…she described Bardock, but geez, we can’t go arresting the wealthiest guy in town, now can we? Anyways, thanks for everything. Give me a buzz when you find out something, okay?”

He hung up the phone and sat back on the seat with a heavy sigh. “Nail…strange guy…”

So, why on earth was his face still burning at just his image?

~*~*~*~*~

Goku didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. He continued to laugh with Krillen and the others, although his mind raced towards Bulma’s reaction to him earlier. She was acting so differently now and he tried hard to remember what he had done to make her so peeved. Was it because of the crash? He had had no part in it. So, why would she blame him for something that he had not caused?

A light buzz in his pants pocket had him reaching for the cell-phone quickly. He blinked at the name and rose to his feet.

Krillen stopped his joke tales and stared at the boy with a puzzled look on his face. “Where are you going to, Goku?”

“I just need to use the little boy’s room. I will be back in a jiff.”

“Again?” came the icy retort from Bulma.

All eyes spun to face her with bewildered looks on their faces, none more so than Goku, who blinked in confusion. “Is…is something wrong, Bulma?”

The girl shook her head and snorted lightly. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. Run along now and try not to get lost on your way there.”

“Ouch.” Krillen winced. “What the hell happened to you, Bulma? What did Goku do to you?”

The blue-haired girl pinned cold eyes on Goku. “Why don’t you ask your friend here.”

Goku clenched his hands into fists and counted inwardly to ten. It wouldn’t do to lose his cool now. He forced a smile to his face. “I don’t know what I did to you, Bulma, but I plan to find out soon. Excuse me, guys. I will be right back.”

He walked away from the room and down the long hospital corridor. Making sure that he wasn’t seen, he slipped into an empty patient’s room and closed the door softly behind him.

“What is it? Why are you calling me now?”

Piccolo’s dry voice came over the other end. “You do know that the girl knows everything now, don’t you?”

Goku felt the color drain from his face as he clutched the tiny device tighter against his ear. “What…what do you mean?”

“Exactly what you heard me say, Kakkarrot. She was listening to our conversation.”

“How..??”

“Didn’t you ever wonder how she suddenly appeared from nowhere at our side after the collision? Or were you so concerned about your precious Vegeta to take notice?”

Goku groaned and rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. “I see now.”

“See what?”

“She was acting strange earlier…heh…should have realized something was up.”

Piccolo snorted. “Well, I don’t need to tell you what to do, do I, Kakkarrot? The sooner you get it done, the better.”

The boy nodded again, lips pursing into a thin line of determination. “Hai. I understand.”

He lifted his lashes, revealing dark eyes that now blazed with a fury that would have frightened any ordinary onlooker.

“I will have her dead by tomorrow night.”