DISCLAIMER: Don't own the anime or its characters. I own my characters though.
*shoves Bally in front of her*
Watch it lawyers, I've got a female Saiyan, and I'm not afraid ta use er.
*she gives father's glare aimed at author *
SEE! You're tickin er off already.
*I smiles cheesily*
"Don't. Touch. Me"
"Ha."
Let's go.
I pulled up into the driveway in my black Viper. My system blared Rob Zombie.
I turned off the car, shutting the music down with it.
It had been a long, hard day.
I may have gotten to school earlier, but from there it had all gone down. I had caught my ex, and ex-best friend in a make-out session outside homeroom. I had been able to ignore them with dignity, but I was still disturbed, and later on it just pushed open the old wound. Which had taken me just two months to close.
<Oh, good for you. You're ex-best takes your boyfriend and yet you still choose to be friendly. How pathetic can you get?!>
I growled, my mood had just gone from bad to worse.
Opening my door, and slinging my weighed-down backpack from the passengers seat, I hopped out. My combat boots allowing me to grip the concrete.
Letting the thing hang down from my arm, not far from the ground, I took my free hand and slammed my door shut. Then locking it with the automatic on my keys, I trudged to the front door, the old feeling of betrayal coming back full force.
I opened to the door to my parents' mansion, suddenly feeling exhausted.
<Too bad you've got ten pounds worth of homework, and only one, five-pound textbook worth of it. >
I trudged down the long hallway, making a left some ways down and into a large kitchen that was open to a playroom.
The TV was loud, REALLY loud.
I lifted my backpack up as high as I could, then dropped it, the sound of heavy cardboard and title colliding.
The sound was immediately turned down.
"Hey sis!"
The enthusiastic voice showed a face as a six-year-old boy ran toward me.
His jet-black hair and baby blue eyes alight with his youth.
I gave a smile for his sake.
Though by the dull in his eyes, it must've not been much.
"Yeah, Hunt, it's me."
I turned my attention toward my burden on the floor. Snorting, I decided to leave it there, for now.
"Are you okay?"
I frowned at the bag, then turned toward him.
"I've just had a long day."
He accepted it, then took off running back to the TV.
I walked after him.
Sitting closer to the TV then I would have liked, sat his 12-year-old look alike brother.
"Blake, what are you watching?" I asked with a motherly tone.
I made a face.
That wasn't good.
"DBZ Cham."
I stiffened.
"Ju, only family call me that, and you are not bloodly related to me," I hissed.
The 13-year-old Korean smiled flirtatiously at me as he came from a hall off of the playroom.
I scoffed, feeling violent.
"Don't piss me off, I've had a VERY bad day," I growled.
He raised an eyebrow, then walked to sit by his best friend.
"And what's DBZ?" I growled.
"Dragonball Z" Blake answered absent-mindedly.
"What..."
"Just watch!" my brother shouted, turning up the sound in order to drown me out.
Growling, I walked cautiously over to a couch by the surrounded television.
Two over muscled men began exchanging heavy blows.
Their forms turned into a blur, then stopping some minutes later completely. They just stood there, staring.
<Correction. One is an over muscled man, pumped up with steroids, going bald, and with the ugliest looking mug I've ever seen. The other is a taller green bug that reminds me of a cockroach. >
They started up again.
"What is this?" I growled.
Silence ensued.
It was then, to my relief, that the doorbell rang. Well, not really relief, but at least I had something other to do than watch this.
Getting up, I walked back through the kitchen and down the hall.
Stopping at the door, I caught my reflection in the mirror.
I wasn't bad looking. No, not bad at all. My hair was black brown, long, medium curled, and silky. My honey skinned glowed, and my dark eyes exotic. At 5"5 I wasn't tall but short neither.
Today I had chosen a form fitting, black, peasant shirt and black baggy army pants.
<So why did he leave me? >
Another knock ensued, this one harder.
I growled, not happy about being stolen from my thought.
<Eh, maybe whoever did me a good thing? >
I brushed my hair back with my hand, and opened the door.
Hmm, horrible start, I'm aware. This falls into the 'I-just-got-the-idea-and-don't-know-what-else-to-do-with-it' category. Or you might accept this, I was bored. Okay, you're welcome to tell me how it is. I don't care WHAT you say. Have fun.
-O2