FicWad

Interlude: Homecoming
Armada dashed down the main corridor of the /Verdandi/, tripping as the ship shook from the attacks from the side and behind. She fell forward, dropping the navy helmet she carried, it skidding several meters away from her. She looked up to see that Trunks had picked it up and was headed her way. She quickly stood, taking the helmet from his hands.
"Listen, I'm going to go out there to give 'em a taste," she then balled her right hand into a fist and charged a small amount of energy into it, letting Trunks know what she meant, "you and Marice get the hell out of here."
"But what about you!" Trunks protested, noticing that the navy suit Armada had donned coupled with the helmet she was carrying signified that she planned on going outside the ship, into space.
"Don't worry about me; when I start blasting them, you gun it, all right!" she shouted back, now taking the time to put the helmet on and latch the seals between the helmet and the suit.
Trunks gave her a worried look as she moved for the air-lock on top of the ship. Armada stopped once she saw his face. "I'll meet up with you at the next space station. I've already programmed the destination into navigation." She paused. "Take care of yourself."
"You too," Trunks replied as she disappeared behind the door in the 'roof' of the ship, preparing to exit the ship for space. The ship shook once more as another explosion hit. By the time Trunks looked up, she was gone from the air-lock. He then turned and ran towards the bridge, leaping up and over the seat to the main control console and landing in the chair, effectively seating himself at the helm of the /Verdandi/. He concentrated his senses. As soon as he felt Armada fire at the ships behind them, he was supposed to dash out of there.
All right/, Armada told herself as she flew a good distance from the rear of the ship, not wanting to be burned by the thrusters once Trunks sent the ship out of harm's way. Armada glanced along the ridge of ships before herself, mentally noting how many there were. It was a fleet from Rieve; small in number, and much unorganized. She began to charge her energy, preparing to wipe out the twenty-six ships that had attacked her own. She extended her arms out to her sides, gathering energy in both of her fists. /Ready... She brought her hands together in front of herself, bringing more energy forth into the attack. She narrowed her eyes and fired, taking out four ships instantly and severely damaging another seven or so. On cue, she felt the heat of the thrusters of the ship behind her as it blasted away. Nice work Trunks, she thought as the ships started to return fire. She dodged a few shots quickly and returned fire, determined to take them all out.
Trunks was deep in thought as the Verdandi fled the scene of another attack staged by Rieve. /You'd better make it back, Armada/. He was suddenly reminded why this was the only way they were going to escape Rieve--they were two crewmembers short.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I'm sorry, it's just...I've got things I need to take care of," Laiserta's gaze moved away, unable to look at either spider-head or wonder boy. She didn't want to see the disappointment that she knew wrought their features. Well, at least she wasn't going down alone.
"I need to go back to Tyron. Things are happening that I don't understand and I think I could find the answers there," Naya said sadly, also feeling terrible about leaving the group. They'd both told the other two that neither would be gone long; Naya only needed a few days herself, and Laiserta only wanted a week. However, once they said it aloud, it did seem that much more final.
Both Trunks and Armada stood in shock. Neither knew what to say or do. Everyone had already been walking on eggshells the past few days because of... Still, they both needed to leave, but...could it possibly be at a worse time?
"Where do you want dropped off?" Armada asked. Trunks turned to look at her. He could see that she was shaken up by Laiserta and Naya, yet she still tried to be the stonewall leader of the group. He, he couldn't pretend that it was okay. After four months together, they were just...leaving? He knew they said it was only temporary, but...if it was only temporary, why did he feel like he did?
"The next space station will do fine..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trunks was brought out of his thoughts as he heard someone moving around in the rear of the ship. He listened closely, and after a few seconds, all was silent again. That was another thing. Marice had been mute in the two weeks that had passed since they'd...left...Stapel. He'd hardly seen her at all, and when he had...well, she didn't look well. Marice had always been the one of the group that had a bright and cheery face, no matter what trouble they faced--and now she looked like she was half-past dead.
No, he didn't want to think about it anymore. In fact, he didn't want to think about anything at the rate things were going. He decided to concentrate on their destination, as navigation showed that it wouldn't be long before the ship would reach the dock, and he'd have to help the auto-pilot in docking at the station. All he had to do was stay focused, and the whole situation would be over that much sooner.

***

Trunks downed another glass of water. Nope, still not feeling any better. He stood over the sink in the galley, pensive. They'd been docked at Ssima--the space station Armada had sent the ship towards--for over four hours now. He knew it would take a while for Armada to catch up, but...they'd reached Ssima within minutes of leaving the Rieve fleet behind, so it shouldn't take her long to catch up. At least, she'd made it sound that way.
Just then, Trunks heard the door leading into the ship open. His head shot up at the noise, accompanied by a soft 'damn' and the sound of something dropping. He quickly made his way back through the bridge to the other side of the ship to see that indeed, Armada had made it back. However, she was breathing heavy, covered in dirt, and her left forearm was bleeding. Her helmet was lying on the floor, and Trunks assumed that was what had fallen when he heard her enter.
"You okay?" he asked with concern.
Armada nodded, swallowing before responding. "I got those bastards. Problem is, they got me too," she said, lifting her left forearm. "Get ready to leave," she told him before heading off to the infirmary. Trunks nodded and prepared the ship to disengage from the dock. He then decided to see how things were going for Armada in the infirmary.
Armada was still removing her spacesuit in the infirmary when Trunks entered. The injury to her left forearm had been worse than either of them had thought. Once Armada finally pulled herself out of the spacesuit, she moved to get the antiseptic but was stopped by the other presence in the infirmary. "Sit. I'll get it."
"Can't believe I let them hit me," Armada said between the low hiss she emitted after seating herself and running her right hand over the sensitive wound.
Trunks turned around after having retrieved the antiseptic and a few bandages. "That's a pretty small wound for you to have been shot by a ship," he commented, pouring some of the ointment over Armada's arm while she held it steady with her free hand.
"Partial shot," she responded, "it only grazed me."
"If this is what happens when you're barely touched by a shot, then I'd hate to see you if you were hit directly," Trunks half joked while starting to wrap the scorched skin of his comrade.
"Hah. I've had worse," Armada jokingly countered, wincing a bit as Trunks pulled the bandages tight.
"All right, I think I'm done here," Trunks stood straight up, mock dusting his hands off while speaking in a sarcastic manner.
"Thanks, doc," Armada joked back. Her visage then turned serious. "So where are we headed?"
"You mean you don't know where to go?" he questioned, caught off guard that for once, Armada didn't have a plan.
Armada shook her head. "Seems that wherever we go, either Rieve or Taydr finds us. And anywhere I know to go is probably somewhere they know to look."
"So we need somewhere where Rieve or Taydr won't find us, huh?" Trunks confirmed in a question while thinking. A thought suddenly hit him. "Hey, you think that the Bmyhadians report every new find they come across in their exploration?"
"I don't know," Armada shrugged. "My guess is they don't, considering how they like to keep things to themselves and stay out of political affairs." She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration for a moment. "Why?"
Trunks half-smiled. "I think I know the perfect place."

***

Bulma poured herself a fresh mug of near-boiling coffee. But that was how she needed it, how she liked it, especially during the cold months of winter. She sighed. Being up at five-thirty in the morning wasn't exactly a normal thing, for her or anyone else. Yet it seemed to happen every time she awoke to another dream of her son returning. She stared at her reflection in the mug of coffee at her fingertips. Trunks, where are you? It'd been a little over four months since he'd disappeared, and she'd almost become accustomed to the worrying. Of course, it would never go away totally. That was proven by the fact that she was up before the sun even rose-/again/.
She knew-well, she hoped-that wherever he was, he was safe. He was one of the strongest men in the universe, how bad could it be? Still, she worried about him relentlessly. /He could have at least told me where he was going/, she thought quite bitterly. She'd noticed the few betas their Bmyhadian visitors had left as souvenirs missing, and had figured that he'd taken the leap of a lifetime-at least; the Bmyhadians still weren't accustomed to it. Oh well, another dreary beginning to another hapless day. Nothing that she wasn't used to...or couldn't handle. She hoped.
Bulma took one last sip of her coffee before setting it down again, the mug more than half full. She figured it was about time to take a shower and start to wake up in a more appropriate manner. She turned from the kitchen, making her way through the living room towards the hallway when she heard a strange noise. She stopped walking to listen to it, only to hear it becoming increasingly louder. "Outside!" she exclaimed, running towards the sliding glass doors in the living room, which led to the backyard of the complex.
Bulma ripped the glass door open, not bothering to glance what was outside through the glass, yet stopping in shock once she realized what she was looking at. Wha...? She stared in shock at a silver.../spaceship?!/ She immediately realized that she didn't recognize the ship, and it didn't look Bmyhadian. Bulma's worry got the best of her as thousands of possibilities flashed before her eyes, most of them leading toward someone or something hostile landing on Earth for one reason or another. It wasn't as if Earth had never been in the sights of an alien race before.
Before Bulma's thoughts could move any further, a hatch leading outside the spacecraft opened revealing none other than-/"Trunks?!" Bulma's eyes widened farther as she saw her son float down to the ground from the strange ship-and /smile at her. She stood still for several seconds, the shock still too strong to allow her to move. /This better not be another dream/, Bulma thought near-tears as she finally began to move towards her son.
Trunks had taken a few steps towards his mother as she ran at him, and caught her in his arms when she dove into them. He smiled whole-heartedly while hugging his mother, glad to see that she was well.
Bulma looked up towards Trunks's face, blinking furiously to hold the water welling into her eyes at bay. "Is it...is it really you?" she questioned, still in disbelief.
"Of course it's me!" Trunks laughed lightly in his response, glad that his welcome was heartfelt instead of the 'Where the hell were you?!' he knew he was going to receive later.
It was then that Bulma noticed the two figures moving in the background behind her son. There were...a woman and a child? No, more like a teenager. She watched as the woman slowly floated down from the ship as well, holding the teenager, whom Bulma assumed couldn't fly. The blonde woman had a bandage on her arm and was covered in dirt-she wore a very placid look on her face. The teenager had reddish hair and...she looked so sad.
Bulma turned her attention back to Trunks who had been looking at the pair behind him also. He turned and looked to her. She knew, as did he, that he had quite a bit of explaining to do.

***

"I gave Marice a room to herself," Trunks said while entering the living room from the hallway. "I don't think she's up for much conversation right now."
"Marice?" Bulma questioned as she rounded the counter of the kitchen, carrying a cup of coffee, and moved to sit down in a lounge chair near a small table in the living room.
"Yeah, well, we'll get to that," Trunks answered as he sat on a small couch opposite his mother. Armada sat on a sofa between the two.
"I think you should start off by telling me who these people are-and what on Earth is that thing parked in my yard?" she continued, the fiery temper she was known for starting to show through all of the shock and newness of the situation.
"Oh, that's the /Verdandi/, it-" Trunks was cut off in his response.
"It belongs to me," Armada broke in.
"And you are...?" Bulma continued.
"Armada, the leader of this outfit," she added quite plainly.
"Leader?" Bulma blinked.
"She's a mercenary," Trunks quickly added, "...and so am I." He smiled nervously.
"A mercenary?!" Bulma was in disbelief. "What do you do?"
"Whatever we're paid to," Armada added bluntly.
You're really helping me out here, thanks, Armada, Trunks noted to himself as he mentally face-vaulted.
Bulma gave Trunks her motherly 'no-no' look before continuing. "So who's Marice? That red-haired young girl?"
"Yeah," Trunks replied, "she's only sixteen. She's...been through a lot recently," he said, skipping around the real reason Marice had gone mute.
"What happened?" Bulma inquired innocently. She glanced between the two mercenaries in her home, both of whom dodged her gaze.
Trunks finally looked at his mother. "I think...maybe you should talk to her. I think you'd understand better than us."
Bulma opened her mouth to continue the current line of conversation, but was stopped when another voice spoke up.
"So you're Bulma, right?" Armada asked, looking directly at the blue-haired woman with the same uncaring visage she'd kept the entire time Bulma had seen her-which truthfully wasn't much time at all. Bulma nodded in response. "You think...you could help me fix my ship?"
The question caught both Bulma and Trunks by surprise. Bulma, because of the way Armada had spoken so protectively of her ship earlier and Trunks because she never asked for help.
"Ah, sure, I think," Bulma muttered. "That is, if I can help you any." Silence engulfed the room for a moment before she continued on another line of questioning. "So what are you doing way out here?"
"We needed a place to recuperate for a while," Trunks answered, "and this was the best place I could think of."
"So you drop by when you need something, but you can't be bothered to call?!" Bulma near-shouted at her son who smiled nervously in response. Nope, Trunks thought, she hasn't lost the temper.
Bulma then turned to Armada. "I'm curious, exactly how did you two meet?"
"I ran into Trunks in Ute," Armada replied in her usual deadpan manner.
"Well, how did you run into him?" Bulma elaborated; interested in knowing how her son had met such a character-or lack thereof.
"Uh, that's just it," Trunks continued, "she really did run into me."
And so tales of the last four months were shared, with many laughs at the humorous parts and many solemn nods at those not so humorous parts as well. Bulma learned quickly about the dreary yet joy-filled Taydran and the Tyrian general with the strange accent, feeling that she now knew these characters without ever having met them. She also learned of the government of the Federation Alliance that the Shera system, including Bmyhad, was a part of, and its corruption-something that Trunks hadn't even been fully told until that point. She also learned of Taydr and Rieve, and how the crew was wanted in that part of the galaxy by both groups-a giant empire and an interstellar mafia. In several hours, they were done.
"Well Trunks, I'm just glad to know that you're okay," Bulma said smiling while rising from her seated position and walking towards her son. He returned her smile when she stopped next to him. Bulma then reared back with her right hand and smacked Trunks in the side of the head. "Don't you ever run off like that again without telling me first!" she yelled at him, again her temper had been set off-or she'd just held it for a while.
"Now I'm hungry, so I'm going to make us all a bit of lunch," Bulma announced over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. Armada snickered at Trunks as she rose and headed for the glass sliding doors leading out.
"Where are you going?" Trunks asked, standing as well, still rubbing the spot his mother had hit him with his left hand.
Armada stopped with one hand on the door handle. "I've got to assess the damage done to the ship." With that, she quickly disappeared from sight through the doors.
"Need a hand?" Trunks asked Bulma while stepping into the kitchen.
"Yeah, now make yourself useful," she said, turning towards him, "and stay out of my way."
Trunks laughed. "And let you kill us all with your cooking? No way!"
"Hm," Bulma smirked back at her son, "you're no master chef yourself there, kid."
"Hey," Trunks shrugged, "I never claimed to be." He then moved to the other side of the counter, seating himself at one of the barstools.
"So," Bulma spoke while washing her hands at the sink, "how long did it take you guys to get here?"
"About five days," Trunks answered, "but we were already a good distance from Bmyhad when we left the area."
/Sounds about right/, Bulma mentally noted. "When did your friends leave?"
"More than two weeks ago. It was a couple days after we escaped from Stapel," Trunks continued, saddening a little at the thought of Naya and Laiserta's desertion. "Which is two days shy of a three-week anniversary."
"Do you miss it?" Bulma asked turning now to face Trunks and leaning back against the counter behind her. "Stapel," she added the definition of 'it.' She'd asked after hearing his voice drift off at the mention of the place.
"Well, no, but..."
"Janus?" Bulma supplied. Trunks was a bit surprised at her mention of Janus at first until he realized that he had in fact mentioned the deceased youth to his mother only moments ago while recounting his adventures away from home thus far. He also knew that she always picked up on his emotions before he ever realized what they were.
Trunks sighed. "He was a good kid."
"Remind you of anyone?" Bulma asked with a slight smirk.
Trunks returned the gesture. "Maybe...but mostly, I'm worried about Marice. For her to not have spoken in nearly three weeks," Trunks shrugged at a loss for words.
"You two didn't tell me much about her," Bulma continued.
Trunks blinked for a moment. He and Armada had mentioned meeting Marice, but they hadn't said much else about her. The pained looks she wore...if he talked about her, he'd think about them, and suddenly be reminded of the loss he suffered around Marice's age... "Oh, well...she's a lot like a little sister. But more grown up than that," he stopped once he saw the eerie look his mother was giving him. "What?"
"Nothing," Bulma shook her head. "Go on."
"Well," Trunks caught back on to his train of thought, "she grew up mostly alone, so she's really mature some moments-and then she fights with Lai, and we all think they're both sixteen," Trunks finished with a forced laugh.
At that moment, the two turned around as they heard the back door opening. "Whoa!" Trunks exclaimed upon seeing Armada-who was covered in dirt and soot. "Geez, you're filthy," he commented at her expense.
Armada's eyes narrowed. "Thanks. Got anywhere I can get cleaned up?" she asked in a lighter tone.
"Yeah, shower's down the hall, second door on the left," Trunks replied, pointing towards the hallway from where he sat. Armada nodded before disappearing from sight once again.
"Wow," Bulma said aloud.
"That's not even the first time," Trunks laughed.

After flicking on the water in the bathroom, Armada opened a small closet to find it full of towels. She took one out and placed it on the sink before proceeding to remove her grime-covered clothing and hop into the shower. It took her a minute to figure out how to turn the shower-head on and change the temperature of the water, and after discovering how to do so, she turned the temperature of the water all the way up, to the point where it felt like it was burning. That was just it-the water felt like it was burning, yet it wasn't. It was almost like an illusion.../Wait a minute./ Armada's eyes widened as a plethora of facts and observations surged to the forefront of her mind. An illusion... And then it hit her. The most important realization she'd made in some time-/Taydr's working with Rieve!/

***

Trunks sat in disbelief, not sure what to say after Armada had dropped a bomb on him like that. Well, she'd already told them-he and his mother-a few minutes ago, but neither could really pay attention to what she was saying, due to the fact that she'd come running downstairs wet and wearing a towel. After Bulma had convinced her that whatever it was, it could wait until she was changed, she'd returned, still with bad news.
"Are you sure?" Bulma asked. Since she'd been told the group's story from day one earlier that morning, she now felt as if she too could contribute to the conversation.
"I know, it seems really far-fetched, but it just makes too much sense," Armada answered from her standing position.
"I...I think I see what you mean," Trunks spoke up, now looking towards his comrade.
"But how?" Bulma glanced between the two.
"I don't know, but...it just has /to be true," Armada continued in an almost desperate voice. "Taydr's control of the Alliance council-it's just an illusion to pull attention away from Taydr and Rieve's connections. If you think about it," she elaborated, "it seems like Taydr's in a seat of power with control of the council-but really, they /aren't/. Sure, the council can deem an action of a country-say, war-unlawful, but what's to stop a country that does? The Federation doesn't have an army-they can't possibly /enforce such an action! And how did some lowlife like Ukyo get a hold of files that detailed Taydr's insurrection against the Federation? Because they were handed to him so that word would get out and the Federation would come under scrutiny, not Taydr. That, and with evidence of corruption, the rebels could start a political storm on Virda City, the capital of the Alliance, and keep the real Federation busy for a while."
"Whoa whoa whoa," Trunks stopped her. "Rebels? Since when were rebels involved in any of this?"
"Any nation or organization in the known universe has some sort of a rebellion movement against it. That's just how things are. But," she continued, "I heard that twenty-some years ago, a few kids were executed for speaking out against the Federation Alliance. Supposedly, whatever they criticized of the Alliance was /true/, and within two years afterwards the rebels' numbers quadrupled." Armada shrugged. "I don't blame them. The Federation's government is one big crock anyway."
"Well why isn't anyone blaming Taydr?" Bulma spoke up once again.
"Think about it," Trunks started, turning to look towards his mother, "if any country could have the higher-ups give them more power and cover for it, what country wouldn't do it? Anyway," he turned back towards Armada, "how exactly are Taydr and Rieve connected?"
"I'll admit, I'm not so sure," Armada started, her voice calmer than before. "I don't really know how the two came to be in league with one another, but it just /fits/. How else would Taydr have known that we'd landed on Stapel, and approximately how long we'd be stranded there? Rieve was the one who attacked us and put us in that position."
"Okay, so why is Rieve after you in the first place?" Bulma queried once more.
"They're after me/, not anyone else," Armada added, facing Bulma. "I destroyed a dis..." Armada's voice trailed off and her eyes widened. That was it. /That was the connection. The only reason an empire like Taydr would have anything to do with Rieve.
"You destroyed a what?" Trunks questioned.
"A disruptor factory," Armada finished. "Rieve's disruptor factory."
Trunks then remembered about a certain factory belonging to Rieve that his comrade had demolished shortly before meeting him. "Okay, so what's a 'disruptor'?" he continued. He knew that it was some kind of weapon, and that it was mostly illegal, but beyond that, his knowledge was slim. Nonexistent, really.
"In short, a very powerful and very dangerous weapon." Upon receiving two blank stares in return, she decided to elaborate. "It's a sphere, about this big," she started, placing her hands about eight inches apart to indicate the item's diameter, "and it emits an extremely high frequency electromagnetic wave. What makes it so powerful," she continued, "is that not only does it knock out any other electromagnetic signals in the area, like radio, microwave, gamma rays--hell, even visible light--it causes a high degree of radiation in the atmosphere and kills many people, making even more very sick. It's seen as a 'crime against life' in most areas of the universe to use one," she added in a more somber tone, "and makes them invaluable to certain groups as well."
"That's why Rieve and Taydr are working together, isn't it?" Trunks surmised with an almost jaded look upon his face. "Rieve supplies Taydr with disruptors, Taydr can conquer anybody they go up against--because they're the only nation that has them." He paused. "And the Federation does nothing."
Armada sighed. "Damn. I should have seen this sooner. It was in front of my face the entire time!"
"Now's not the time to go making regrets," Bulma shot out, catching off-guard glances from the other two presences in the room. "Now that you know what's wrong, you know how to fix it."
"Fix?" Trunks questioned. "Who said we were going to fix anything?"
"There's barely a handful of us and we have one very small ship," Armada continued, "how are we supposed to stop an all-out war between some of the largest empires this side of the Republic? Besides," Armada paused while Bulma regarded her with interest, "I don't give a damn about Bmyhad, Ceva, Tyron, or any other country in the Federation--so why would I bother to stop a war from breaking out?"
Before any of them could answer, a soft noise was heard coming from the stairs. All three heads turned to see Marice standing at the bottom of the stairs, crying. Trunks hopped up from where he sat and headed over to Marice, pulling her into an embrace and speaking to her softly in order to get her to calm down. Bulma glanced at Armada, who now held a very regretful and apologetic look upon her face, looking in the direction of her comrades. She looked back towards her son and Marice. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but whatever Armada had said, it certainly struck a chord in Marice. As Trunks led Marice back upstairs, Armada turned and headed outside once more. After the room had cleared, Bulma sighed heavily. Just what was it that had happened that none of them would talk about?

***

"Mmm...how the hell does this bloody thing work?!" Dax near-shouted in frustration as he examined the key pad to building 7873 on the southwestern side of Ute. He punched a few more buttons, and after waiting a moment for nothing to happen, he emitted a low growl. "Damnit, why does everything around here have to be so complicated!"
"Stop shouting!"
"Eh?" Dax stood upright and blinked at the sound. He glanced around, unable to see anyone in the near vicinity to have said anything to him. Ah hell/, Dax thought dejectedly, /now I'm going insane too!
"Over here," the voice called once more, a small panel alongside the door leading into the building, above the key pad, started to move up and away from...a video monitor? The violet-haired blue-eyed young man on the other side of the monitor gave Dax a questioning look. "Who the hell are you?!"
Dax jumped back at the sound. "I was just about to ask you the same thing!" Dax studied the face on the other side of the screen. He was probably somewhere in his twenties, had dark blue eyes, and the strangest deep purple spiked hair he'd ever seen--the haphazard pattern of it reminded him of his own mop of reddish-brown hair.
"Look buddy, I don't have all day. What do you want?" the figure asked impatiently.
"Where's Armada?" Dax got back to the task at hand. He owed his former comrade a visit.
"Don't know," came the simple reply from the stranger. "She hasn't been in for the past few months, and we...well...I haven't exactly been on speaking terms with her for around seven months now."
"Nice update and all," Dax continued, narrowing his eyes, "but if this is her building, why in the hell are you answering the door? ...so-to-speak," Dax added, realizing that this guy only came up over a monitor and was probably nowhere near the actual building.
"Because /I /own the building," Dax's favorite fruitcake commented with arrogance. "Armada only rents it out."
"D'you have any idea where she went?" Dax inquired once more.
The figure shook his head. "But if you do find her, do me a favor," the violet-haired mystery man demanded more than asked, "tell her that when she returns, I expect a visit."
Dax closed his eyes briefly and scoffed. "Should I tell her that fruitcake wants his money, or do you have a name?"
The young man narrowed his eyes. "Mace." The feed abruptly stopped.
Dax stood up from his previously partially-bent-over-to-see-the-weirdo-at-eye-level position. "Damnit Ar," he said aloud to himself while looking to the sky, "how the hell am I supposed to kill you if I can't find you?"

***

"What the hell was I supposed to say?!" Armada shouted at the one person who'd followed her outside after getting Marice settled down.
"I don't know, but have you ever thought of watching your mouth!" Trunks yelled in response. "Haven't you ever thought that something you might say could actually hurt someone?!"
"You want me to lie then?" she countered. "Look Trunks, we're caught up in something way bigger than us, something that we can't possibly handle! I know Marice wants revenge--I know that I sure as hell do--but it's out of our control!"
"It's not just that Armada!" Trunks replied while taking a few steps closer to her. "You said you don't give a damn about any place in the Alliance, so what makes any of us think that you give a damn about /us/!"
A pause descended between the pair as the wind picked up once more and snow started to fall--after all, they were standing outside in the middle of winter. "I-I didn't mean to break the news to her that way," Armada replied in a much more subdued tone. "But there's no way we can take on Rieve and Taydr. There are only five of us!"
Trunks turned to head back inside but stopped halfway before turning his head around towards Armada. "Believe me, I know how you feel. But I also know how Marice feels." With that, he went on his way back inside, words seemingly lost on his comrade who had a skull thicker than the walls of a bomb shelter. You know Armada, /he thought sarcastically as he walked away, /maybe if you weren't such an arrogant jackass, we wouldn't be having these shouting matches all the time. But, you know, it's just a thought.
Armada narrowed her eyes at the quickly disappearing form of Trunks as he walked away. /I'm just trying to keep us all from getting killed, /she thought angrily, turning to head for the ship to get a head start on fixing some of the more severe injuries sustained during their last battle with Rieve.

"Hey," Bulma called out to Trunks as he reappeared in the living room, making his way through in haste.
"Don't ask," he cut her off without glancing in her direction and promptly headed up the stairs, presumably to his room.
"O-kay," Bulma said aloud to herself as she stood leaned onto her elbows on the counter with another mug of coffee. Wonder if they're all like this all the time? she thought with a sarcastic laugh.

***

Ryan Rieve narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "So then where'd they go?" he cut off his messenger, sick of hearing him stutter over every other word. Then again, it proved how fearful he was of Ryan's possible reaction, and rightfully so. At the rate things were going, it wasn't going to be pretty.
"Ah, we...don't really know," the youth finally managed to spit out, shrinking away from Rieve in defense.
Ryan's gaze fell even more. Now he was really starting to get perturbed. He removed his right hand from under his chin which had resided on it, and sat up fully in his chair. "What about the tracker?" he continued through an angered gaze.
"Uh-hm, well, the entire fleet was, er, wiped out," the youth gulped, "so we don't have anyone to attest to where they, ah, went...sir," the messenger added onto the end in order to appease his leader. He'd never been in the presence of Rieve himself before...which is probably why they sent him--better for him to die than one of the more prominent and experienced mobsters.
"We sent an entire fleet after one ship only to be destroyed?" Ryan said in a steady, even tone and his angered gaze.
Before the messenger could respond, another member of Rieve came running into the room, the seam in the right shoulder of his jacket torn open and missing a left shoe. "The Taydran's started another brawl!" he burst out.
Ryan closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Can we not have one fucking day run smoothly around here?!" he shouted in rage while standing from his seat. He sent a glare towards both of the messengers as he moved around his desk and headed for the door. As he passed the two underlings in the doorway, the first messenger shouted out after him, "What are you doing sir?"
"Settling the spat downstairs," Rieve shot back as he made his way past the two youths. /God damn that Taydran/, Rieve thought sourly, /he's almost as bad as me/.

***

Armada pulled the door open slowly, flying over the meter-high snow drift against the door to try and not kick too much snow inside. She closed the sliding glass door behind herself, landing on the ground and wrapping her arms around herself from the cold. "Damn," she cursed while shivering, heading farther into the house to try to warm up somewhat.
"What are you still doing up?" Bulma inquired as she descended the stairs into the living room. "Last I checked," she looked down at her watch on her right wrist, "it's after two in the morning."
"Can't work on the ship," Armada sat down, brushing some snow off of her jacket and still shivering. "I can't run the heat and perform the repairs."
That wasn't exactly what I meant, Bulma thought with a nervous smile. "What are you doing up this /late/?" Bulma elaborated, hoping the girl would catch on.
"Oh, well...I don't really know," Armada answered, "I don't really have anything I can do right now."
Bulma nearly face-vaulted at her reply. Still not getting anywhere. "Do you plan on sleeping anytime soon then?" she joked nervously. She was taken aback when she noticed Armada's gaze fall to the floor.
"I, ah, don't really get much sleep," Armada tried to answer, suddenly finding herself embarrassed at the situation.
"Why not?" Bulma queried with slight worry.
Armada scoffed, but to Bulma, it sounded more like she was choked up and tried to cover up her inability to speak at the moment. After some time had passed between the two, she looked towards Bulma with an eerie smirk on her face. "If you had nightmares about burning alive every time you closed your eyes, would you?"