FicWad

"How am I? I'm bored shitless."

Jeice sighs bluntly, catching a long-neck with one hand as is slides across the counter-top. The other hand props up his face, though with each moment it threatens to slip out and land upon the stained wood below. There simply seems to be no challenge in life anymore: he could wipe out all life on a planet without breaking a sweat, has more cash than he knows what to do with, and could swoon any female of his choosing. Sure to the average soldier this sounds like the perfect life. Yet for the orange mutant, the dream had become dull and seemingly pointless.

A gloved fist falls sharply to the bar top, leaving a deep impression. This has to stop- he is a Ginyu, after all.

"Easy there," pipes-up the gnarled tender. He had finally recovered from Jeice's earlier reply, and was returning to clean a beaten glass stein. "I'll hav' ta' charge ya fer that."

"Oh, is someone throwing a tantrum?" a low, familiar voice hisses from behind.

The warrior grits his teeth. "God, I hate him," he thinks, and nonchalantly turns on his stool to face his adversary. His dark auburn eyes eventually meet a pitch-black pair, and he calmly retorts, "What are you gonna' skite about today, Figjam?"

"The young male's voice is as vibrant as his gleaming ginger exterior, colored by a thick accent and unique vocabulary. To an Earth native, both would be surprisingly recognizable as Australian. To a certain Saiyan Prince, however, it was just the rambling of a mutant.

"I have neither need nor want from you," huffs Vegeta with crossed arms. His trade-mark scowl skillfully masks his lingering confusion as his stare moves from Jeice to the bar keep. "Rumor has it that a certain female frequents this pathetic dump."

"Well, you're right about one thing," the other high-ranking fighter states, careening his neck to survey the surroundings once more: a filthy tavern with low-kept chair and tables littering the floor, some knocked over from riots, and a counter that is only clean for the sole reason that the bartender has the decency of staying healthy and wipes it down after ever close. The crowd is a mix of low-lives with nothing better to do and back-stabbers conning their way into others' pockets. Drunks yell loudly at one another while playing demeaning games of poker, as whores seduce those still sober carrying fat wallets. He would not be wasting his time in this pungent atmosphere of thick ale and mindless ecstasy if he weren't so desperate to escape his ordinary lifestyle.

"If yer lookin' fer Kerrigan," pipes the tavern, striding slowly over to them while drying a glass, "Ya' won't make sport of 'er easily. Tat outlaw don't talk t'anyone but me, and even tan, she don't say much."

"And with a bush pig for a mum, you won't have much luck with her, anyway, if you meet her!" exclaims the shorter of the two.

"Shut-up!" shouts the taller, though still short, soldier. "What the hell is that suppose to mean, in any case! And you would hardly fair as well as I would with a female Saiyan!"

Jeice pauses and lifts an eyebrow. "A what-now?"

"Damn right, she is," interrupts the gruff keeper, not looking at either of them, "Never seen such p'wer b'fore in me life. Be careful ya' don't get yerselves killed if ya' approach her."

As if on cue, the saloon doors fly open, nearly swinging off their hinges. The room goes quiet as a shadowed stranger dressed in a ragged brown clock and an odd, almost second-kin suit strides in, a deafening, sharp rattle rippling through the still air with each land of large, heavy black boots. Carefully, the figure takes a seat a few stools away from the orange warrior, and lightly waves a raised index at the keeper. Jeice can make out the blend of jade and ebony in the armor molds, though a hint to what gender (let alone race) the individual is cannot be seen; heavy breathing hisses out through a masked helmet as gloved hands shift the cloak back behind. Gradually, the normal bustle of noise returns, the regulars apparently used to this occurrence.

"The usual?" poses the tap vendor. The stranger nods, retaining its silence, the folds of the outfit moving like muscle.

"H ya' go," the owner finishes, placing a tall class of clear, sparkling crimson liquid down before the intimidating customer, and backs away.

"I bet you're not that tough," remarks the Ginyu, casting a smug look in the concealed being's direction; a simultaneous gasp from the crowd follows.

"I bet you haven't slept with one female in your entire life, let alone be a decent performer in bed," bites a feminine voice from behind the synthetic gear. Slowly, the helmet slips back, revealing the head of a beautiful young woman.

"Ouch," a few men in the back cringe.

"You take that back!" yells Jeice, jumping to his feet.

"Prove me wrong," she boasts.

"Pardon me," interjects his royal counterpart, facing the female, "are you the Saiyan named Kerrigan?"

"What do you want with her?"

"I am Vegeta, Prince of our race, and I wish her to be my mate."

"Kerrigan's note interested."

"Fine: I demand it."

"And outlaws are supposed to obey orders?"

Before he can reply, she takes her drink and throws it in his face, shocking everyone- normally she would kill someone if they did anything remotely close to that.

"Get out of my sight," she growls, shattering the glass against the bar shelf.

Unable to say anything through his rage, the noble storms out of the building, leaving the other for his turn.

"So you want me to prove myself?" he asks, moving closer with a smirk. "How about you and me go back to my flat and shabo?"

"What the hell does 'shabo' mean!" she revolts, getting off of her stool to draw a more comfortable space between them.

"At my place," he grins suggestively, "I'll personally show you."

"If this is offer to get me in bed, no thanks."

"Awwww, come on, Miss Kerrigan. I've never met a Sheila like you b'fore."

"First 'shabo', and now 'Sheila'? What language are you speaking?"

"I'll tell you what those mean if you come with me."

"Excuse me."

In a hurried fashion, she pays for the drink and rushes out of the pub, not saying another word to him. Quickly, the fighter follows after her. After a few minutes of twisting and turning down endless alleyways and darkened streets, he intercepts her path. Though he is a head shorter than she is and must strain his neck upward to look at her in the eyes, he is undaunted and poised to fulfill his plans.

"Will you just leave me alone!" cries alien Amazon.

"No!" he retorts.

"And why not!"

"Because..." he stops, unsure if he should continue. His shoulders fall with his eyes as he answers. "Because you're right. I've never slept with a woman." A cocky grin spreads across his face, and he lifts his eyes back to hers. "But that will not be true much longer. Kerrigan, I am a high member of the Ginyu Force, and--"

"And what? You order me to share a bed with you!" she bites. "Weren't you paying attention! I am an outlaw! I DON'T CARE!"

Just as he is about to answer her, a thick white fog rolls in, and she is gone without a trace. The smirk slips off his lips down a gutter drain, leaving him in the lonesome cold of a desolate road in the middle of nowhere.


"Hey, Jeice," Burter greets, sitting next to his friend, "You're starting to look a little like me. What's up?"

"Oh, it's just this girl," replies the other dismally, not looking his favorite colleague in the eyes. Now sits in a richly adorned lounge, filled with those of high class and expensive lavishings, rolling a cabernet in an un-stemmed wine glass. This is the way he is accustomed to, as well as absolutely loathes.

"What about her?"

"Well... she declined my advances."

"Don't let her get to you, Jeice. She's not important if she won't accept your offer."

Sighing, the dwarf finally raises his sights to the burgundy optics of his comrade, remembering the breath-taking woman he had seen displaced in a disgusting pile of filth: her eyes had gleamed with a fire deep within their emerald pools, which were held with rose petal lips by softly tanned skin, all wrapped perfectly with a river of raven hair tucked neatly into her suit.

"She's a Saiyan Shelia fugitive with an attitude," he finally comments.

"A Saiyan? She's a monkey? Now I really don't see your point."

He flashes the rest of the spirit down his throat and pushes the glass aside. "She's the only spunky for me, Burter."

Sliding off of his seat, the short assassin walks in sorrow across the floor toward the doors. True, Saiyans, even the highest class, were considered one of the lowest races in social order of Freiza's force of warriors. But now, with this 'Kerrigan', he cannot say that all of them are simple apes with tails; the problem is he cannot have her. Making little effort to open the exit, he is not surprised when the doors quickly slide shut upon him when he is outside, but does not really notice, his mind fixed on other matters. A steady rain had begun to fall.

"Why am I so bloomin' attracted to her!" he thinks out loud as he strides down the darkened streets, "I'll never be able to get in 'er ramies! And she's a bloody Galah Saiyan! A drongo monkey!"

Glancing at himself in a murky puddle, he stops, and looks back at his reflection, grimacing at the truth.

"And I'm a pint-sized orange freak," he finishes, bringing his foot down upon the image as a tear rolls down his cheek. Who is he kidding? With one gaze upon her, he has fallen hopelessly in love, and will probably become the laughing stock of the whole guild.

"I didn't expect you to be out in the cold," mocks a voice that sweeps past him.

"K-Kerrigan?" the fighter starts, lifting his head up.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she mutters, continuing forward.

"Wait!" he cries, running up behind and grabbing her hand.

"What!" she yells angrily, whirling around to face him. "I have a job to do!"

"Oh, sorry," he begins. "Need any help?"

A sharp laugh answers him, her hand pulling out of his grasp and her legs turning back on their original course. Yet hopeless determination spurs Jeice on, and he catches up to her.

"Do you have a place to stay?" he inquires.

"Actually..." slips her tongue, her mind focused on some undisclosed task; a shake of her head beings her back to reality, and she snaps, "Why should I tell you anything! Just fuck-off already!"

The female brigand briskly walks ahead of him, using her longer legs as an advantage; though she is not able to shake her infatuated stalker, she does succeed in reaching her target location: a gloss-white dome building with extravagant florescent lighting. Streams of neon orange, pink and yellow spell out in cursive the name 'Locusta' high above the wet pavement before curling down and around the exterior. It is the lounge Jeice just left.

"What are you doin' here?" he questions as he slides up next to her against the outer wall.

"If you really must know," she answers with a roll of her eyes, "I have a job here."

The Ginyu cocks an eyebrow in confusion, but before he can inquire further, a delicate hand covers his mouth. He readily complies with the gesture, her light touch captivating his senses. His attention is only roused back to reality when the hand swiftly withdraws and the outlaw slips quietly after a departing patron. Caution suppresses curiosity, and the male holds-back; finely trained eyes trace the other's every move, watching her stalk the portly purple alien. Through the rain, he sights a minute glint off a sharp edge as the Saiyan lifts her arm to the height of the humanoid-squid's neck. He holds his breathe; a moment later, the patron falls to the ground, not a sound escaping him. The assassin continues forward, her pace brisk once more. Throwing his previous caution to the wind, Jeice dodges the still-warm corpse and rushes after her.

"Looks like you really need a safe house now," he jests casually. Rounding a corner, his eyes fall upon her soft, browned skin. Rain gently splashes and rolls down her forehead and cheeks as they continue forward, the female retaining her silence.

"Please, come stay with me. There are no decent lodges around 'ere, and you shouldn't have to put up with any inconveniences now. I promise I won't do anything to trouble you."

"Alright..." she gruffly answers. "My ship broke down, anyways, and it won't be ready till tomorrow. But then I'm getting off of this dump of a satellite, and you're not coming with. And don't expect to get any play t'night, either!"


The young man cannot help but watch every part of her move carefully. In the light, she is absolutely radiant; it is a wonder she is not a goddess. With the suit gone to dry and let her perfect skin breathe, he can trace her flawless curves over and over, never once getting tired or wishing for more. Well, that is not true, but he is not going to do anything that might send her raving. Just her presence sends him into a spell, and her exposed appearance in a silk dress of pearl covering her forbidden satin areas as she sits upon his intended love seat is enough to arouse him greatly. Thank goodness he had the gown lying around, and thank the gods she did not want to sit close to him!

"Will you quit staring at me!" shouts Kerrigan with annoyance, glaring furiously at him.

"Ahh, oh, err, I-" he begins, startled at hearing her voice, for they had been sitting in still quiet for what seems like hours.

"I don't see what's so exciting about me," she fumes, looking away with discontent, and asks herself, "Why the hell are men always gawking at me?"

"Because you're stunnin'."

"And what is that suppose to mean? That my face paralyzes gaping idiots?"

"No, it's just...well, I don't yabba too well when it come t'my emotions."

"'Yabba'? Will you stop speaking in riddles! "

"Alright."

Swallowing hard, he strides across the room to her. Leaning over her sitting body, he gently kisses her lips, falling to his instinctual desires. Taken back by his actions, the outlaw lets him slip into her mouth a little, a dark part of her taking over a bit. He draws back slowly, keeping his eyes closed, his heart fluttering in his chest. For a few minutes, they drift in silence, letting the moment sink in.

"God, I hope that wasn't a fizzer," he breathes.

"That..." she whispers, a small, unsure smile sprouting on her face. "That was nice."

"Dinkun? I-I mean, really?"

"Dinkun," she repeats with a laugh, then becomes serious. "But...why did you do that?"

"I...I think I've fallen in love with you, Kerrigan."

Slowly, she shifts on the couch away from her host, stands, and takes a few steps forward, motioning toward the door. Quickly, he stands up, not wanting to lose her. Damn him! He should have none better than to do something like that! Now for sure she would never even give him a second thought, and he would be thrown off the Ginyu force if this whole thing got out. His last chance is to plead for pardon and her renewed stay.

"Kerrigan, I'm sorry," begs Jeice, unconsciously stretching a hand out toward her. "Please, don't go. I didn't mean anything."

"You didn't do anything wrong..."

Her shoulders droop and her hands grasp her upper arms tightly. She shifts in place, uneasy and insecure. Suddenly, her energy fluctuates, her clothing rippling up and hair rising on end.

"What the hell am I thinking!" screams the Saiyan, flinging her arms down to her sides.

"I'm so sorry, Ker-!" the diminutive fighter apologizes rapidly, tears falling from his eyes. He was so stupid, touching her! Damn him, damn him!

As unexpectedly as her rage fluctuated, it dissipates, and she drops to her knees. Broken sobs escape from her shaking frame. The other scrambles toward her, tripping over his own feet, and gently places his hands on the sides of her arms.

"I don't even know your name..." she murmurs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

He chuckles and warmly squeezes her. "Call me Jeice... or whatever you like."

"Why do you love me?" she sniffs, fidgeting in his grasp. He opens his mouth to respond, but makes no answer; he had not thoroughly thought the matter through. Instead, he ha d relied on his subconscious drive up till now.

"If you truly love me," she interrupts, "you must do something first."

"O-Of course!" he stammers, somewhat shocked at, and yet comforted by, her words,

"I need you to perform... well, a tradition with me."

"Come again?"

"Jeice..." her upper body steadily turns toward him, vivid green eyes meeting his gaze. A light pink blush blooms upon her cheeks. "I've never met a male so persistent like you... and now I see that you are also willing to care for me, too." She pauses to smiles and bat her eyes a bit. "The way you talk is amusing, too."

As she finishes, he wraps his strong span around her torso and brings her close, squeezing gently. Her compliments made him light headed, and he buries his face into her long dark mane, welcoming the female's sweet aroma that wraps about his head. Breathing deeply, he takes in the scent of fresh cut flowers, especially rose and lilac, while trying to think of a motion to express his joy. The moment cuts short, however, when the young woman fully turns around to face him.

"Oh, Jeice..." she sighs, placing her palms on his shoulders,"I...I want you to be my life-mate."

Tranquility sets over them for a second time, both repeating the process of deciphering what has just been said, but this time in the others arms. What she requested is so alien, so strange to him. Yet, he cannot help but feel at ease and welcome by the words. He rises, gently lifting her up in his arms, and he carries her back over to the settee and places her down, kissing her hand as she comes to rest.

"I'll be anything you wish, Kerri," the love-stricken warrior murmurs.

"Parts of it will be very painful."

"Kerri, I don't care."

"The first-"

"Kerrigan, no more excuses. She'll be apples, I promise. Just do what you have to."

A crystal drop streams down her cheek as she rises and slides her hands from his blades down to his lower back. His spine straightens with her touch, but he grins, the sensation a tad erotic. Hopefully, as he had heard those of her race are extremely 'talented' in bed, even if they are virgins, she would perform more graces upon his body. He would, of course, make no objections.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and abruptly drives two sharp fingers though cloth and flesh to his tailbone. The Ginyu jerks forward, grinding his teeth against one another, the memory of a lost sense returning: pain. He can't remember that last time he has suffered dramatically, though the faces of those he wasted were always fresh in his mind. But this... Something was different; instead of only torture, he feels hope. Welling-up from deep within, a primal hope that through the pain, good will come. A heavy groan slips from his lips, and he leans into her. His hands slip from her back down to her buttocks. When he graces her tail, he stops, trying to perceive its movements. To his displeasure, the appendage is swaying too swiftly, twitching fiercely with aggravation.

"If I recall correctly," his mind contemplates, "Grabbing a Saiyan's tail immobilizes their entire body because there are so many nerves in it. But what would happen if I stroked it gently? Would I get the same results?"

Panting hard, as his backside has just gone numb, Jeice rubs the base carefully. Her body suddenly stops, then a full-throated moan escapes her, her heart beat jumping dramatically. Grinning with his payoff, he continues his kneading as she leans into him, seeping into a sodden state of consciousness.

"Jeice..." she growls zestfully, shifting a little, "...More..."

"As...you wish," is all he can manage, massaging harder and faster while his free hand gently tugs. A small, animalistic shriek carries into the atmosphere, as she pulls him closer. Simply forgetting the whole damn practice and filling her thirst for him in his bed right now crosses her mind, but her ethics take hold of her. No, she is not that low; taking a non-Saiyan for her consort is bad enough, and she has herself to blame for the discomfort he will go through. She cannot disregard her place to her people; she must be strong- she must survive.

"STOP!" she screams suddenly, pulling her fingers out and shoving him away. His legs collapse under him, his power completely drained. Catching him, the young woman sighs and holds him in her arms, rocking gently. Calm washes over her; just having him so near makes her feel complete.

"Sleep now," softly orders Kerrigan, kissing the chosen hero on his forehead, "It will be a long flight."


A/N: Look up "Locusta" on Wikipedia.