14 - Three Blondes

Aliza

OF HER LOVE. She was consumed, looking for reciprocation . . . And that was what drove her back, she guessed.

Her fear subdued, and the subtle spark of anger got slowly more evident. Along with the occasional sparks of fear and doubts.

Was she going to get through all that again?

An absolute of time, which she believed to be molded by the strings of fate, pushing her back to the starting point. But that wasn't the case: she had powers, so it meant only one thing. She could control time. But the aftertaste of that leap was foreign, hard to distinguish, and the feeling when she went off into the past was gone, submerged by the waters of wavering strangeness.

She swam to the shore, her once soaked jeans wet again, blanched as to signify her unworthiness. Too far-fetched, but getting soaked in water twice meant she wasn't good enough. Let death eat her.

She deserved to be drowned, right?

"Where'd you come from?" Vegeta asked, his body framed with the facade of superiority.

"I came hunting down a criminal from another universe!" she said, unsure of her own fabricated claim.

"With that suit?" Vegeta's exclaimed.

And there came the gaps of her idea widening in each second. The longer the duration of Vegeta's gaze, the harder it would be possible for her to spout another excuse. She looked at her jeans, and then to the strolling Namekian behind the conceited Saiyan, before finally knowing what to say.

"As a sort of disguise. There's a galactic prisoner running amuck in this planet, and as a cop, I will be the one to handle this . . . I'm sorry for this great inconvenience."

Piccolo was checking her, from the moist leather of her Converse up to . . . her eyes. A great excuse indeed; they probably won't suspect the distinct size of her eyes from their anime ones.

But there seemed to be twinge of disbelief hidden beneath those eyes.

"Where is this villain? Why can't I sense its energy?" Vegeta asked again.

"You can't. I'm sure you already know that some creature's energy couldn't be sense . . ." she said, turning around while acting with authority. "Vegeta was it?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm sure the universe has already known of your great skills after the Universal Tournament!" She faced him again, never wearing her facade down. "Vegeta, prince of all Saiyans, I'm sure with your great pride, you want to beat this prisoner all on your own, but let me tell you this: I'll ram him into prison before you can!"

This great leap of character flowed like a heavy cascade, filling her with fear at a greater degree before the revelation of her true self would overflow and drown all of them.

Her heart rammed against her ribcage, and she flew off into the air while breathing heavily. The deception she gave would be the death of her, and the way she challenged Vegeta . . .

Just as she expected, Vegeta followed her. "Hey, don't you dare walk out from me, you brat!"

Piccolo was flying in tow with them, and they all were like birds, soaring with no sense of direction. Silence was the only thing that escaped her lips, as well as her faint sigh, contrary to the loud, brimming emotion within her. Vegeta, the one who tried to beat her up just a few moments ago, was beside her, probably waiting for her to say something, and the only thing she could for was to conceal the emotion from bursting.

"Do you have a place, probably, like, a headquarters that I can get inside while we wait for him to strike?" she asked, the facade breaking down.

After a successful ordeal of convincing them, the three of them had an agreement to hide the untrue fact that she was a galactic patroller. And there she was lead, again, to the doors of the Capsule Corp.

"I'm pretty sure you know who the god of destruction is in this universe," Piccolo said, before the three of them went inside.

"Lord Beerus of Universe 7."

She went inside, while some trails of water drops were left to dry on their own. Then the inevitable staring went, and then Bulma went to greet her.

"Hi! You seem to know Vegeta already! My name is—"

"Bulma Briefs, now the owner of the Capsule Corp. A pleasure to meet you." She outstretched her hands, and she took it, while sipping a glass of wine.

"Okay, what's yours?"

"Aliza Keensley." She hoped that Vegeta and Piccolo would remember that, since she just realized they hadn't had a formal introduction.

"So, how did you two know each other?" Bulma asked.

Aliza wished she didn't ask. It's a good thing she already prepared for that excuse. "He's my ex-coworkers under Frieza; now, I'm just a galactic cop sworn to protect those who are in need of protection."

"Okay, Aliza, come here." Vegeta dragged her outside.

"How much research did you invest for you know about Frieze's army?" Vegeta asked, doing the same gesture with those intimidating eyes while having his arms crossed. A bit more mistake, and maybe, just maybe, he'd have the intention to beat her up again.

"Oh, please, I just did some little interrogations with some of the folks here in this Universe before trying to come here in this planet, so please stop questioning!" She hissed, her anger seeping out. She just treaded away, her footsteps having more force.

Good thing he took it, despite Aliza's uncontrolled sentiment.

Having nothing more to say, she slinked to one of her seats, the slow burning anger losing some hear. The table she sat by was far from that intimidating cat, and also not at close proximity to Vegeta, who just resumed to talk with Bulma. She just sat there in solitude, trying to zone out from all that. It didn't take a while for fear to take down her rage; the anticipation of Krillin leaving to get Marron a gift was grueling enough, and the only thing she could do was to tinkle the wine glass with a spoon.

Another minutes or so, the usual rhythm of people chatting one another continuing, she noticed the pink pile of clay-like flesh formed into a chubby alien that seemed to be invested so much of munching all the chips. There, seated just next to her table was Majin Buu. The way his eyes were designed to look like narrow curved slits had made her think of her own eyes. Weirdly enough, once Buu saw her, he quickly hid the bowl of chips by his side—his high-pitched voice that of a child when he said "Buu hungry; go get yours!"—while dilating his eyes.

Okay, it was no wonder why they didn't question the size of her eyes . . .

Then there was the blonde woman with the red dress again, sitting right in front of her, by the same table. "You seem out of place," she started, with her usual natural gruffness.

"As if you're not," Aliza chuckled.

"I was forced to come here, okay?" She thumped her fist against the table, not too forceful to be taken as harsh.

Aliza smiled, stating her name and outstretching her hands.

Taking it, Launch smiled back, giving her her name.

Then there was silence, but it was soon cut short by Launch. "You know, I don't really know most of them here, except Bulma, Piccolo, and that shorty over there."

She pointed at Krillin, which made Aliza snicker. Then he started scampering outside, making Aliza halt her snicker.

"Aliza."

"Yeah," she asked, eyes still fixated at Krillin, her heart sinking.

"What made you come here? I'm pretty sure you don't know most of them. Right?" Her gruffness absolutely complemented the tone of her voice, her expression begging Aliza to say she was right.

"Yep, Vegeta's a former coworker of mine, selling planets under the rule of a dead-but-now-born-again freak," she said, the word "freak" foreign to her tongue, but not to her ears. Launch was all nonchalant, as if she witnessed some of the alien invasions on Earth firsthand. But all that seemed to distant from the feeling of guilt slowly crippling onto her chest.

She had too many lies . . .

"I wonder what it's like in space," she said, sipping the wine.

"Mind if we sit here?" Two more females joined in their conversation—a mother and her daughter. Seeing the three of them again, those three people that had managed to comfort her, she couldn't help but feel the warmth inside her, but still the guilt managed to cease it. Albeit her conflicting feelings, she still had the guts to think that it was as if the strings of faith had done this.

This act that brought her to these three blondes again.

"Do as you like." 18 leaned against the chair, arms crossed with seemingly no care in the world.

"You two are the only ones we don't know, so how about we settle for an introduction?" 18 prompted.

After the traditional meet-and-greet process, the four of them seemed to have dived into a different world, a realm different from that of the others, and to her, it felt like she had hung out with them for years.

Launch's wall slowly broke, as she shared her romantic experiences with Tien, doing her best to stop the blush on her cheeks as the others giggled—Aliza had never seen her expose her feminine self. 18 held Marron dearly, telling them her life before she became an android. The stories they told to Aliza held wonders, anecdotes outside the bounds of the authors' control. So they had a life outside the audience's eyes, each one of them.

In every story, for her, there lived tales of the other characters that were worthy to be told, and she was lucky to have known some of them.

"How about you, Aliza?" 18 asked.

And the color was drained from her already pale face. "I . . ." she began, stammering.

What could she tell them? That she traveled back in time? That she witnessed the death of 18's husband? That Launch was forgotten by the very creator? That they were all just controlled anime characters?

She inhaled, slowly breathing out afterward—a smile on her face. "There was one time when I had a crush on someone."

The three blondes giggled, and she continued her smile.

"He's one of my closest friends, and . . . we would eat ice cream together while the others weren't around, empathize when one of us has problems, and just sometimes . . . we're like cats and dogs fighting over the smallest of things."

"Young love," 18 said.

Aliza still smiled. "He was my second best friend, but it felt more than that . . . He was like my umbrella when the clouds would cry, and—you know that feeling when he'd be fighting for you against the world?"

They both squealed. Now, the fear of submitting to the truth was surmounted by the deep, imperishable memories of him, both bitter and sweet.

"Then what happened?"

"He changed."

Silence loomed over the four of them, and not a single one tried to break it, as if mourning for the death of joy. And no, she wouldn't be crying this time.

"It was nothing, really. That was four years ago, really—just some young, foolish infatuation . . ."

"Aliza, you're still young, and whoever that guy is in your universe, he's a loser!" 18 said.

"Gun those losers!" Launch hoisted up a pistol into the air, her arms going for the trigger, but no bullet came out of it. "Tien . . ."

Aliza chuckled. "Marron, how are 18 and Krillin? What are they like as couples?"

"Eww, please no!" Marron groaned, which made 18 embarrassed.

"I'm surprised you fell for that shorty," Launch said, spouting it as if it was not a big of a deal. 18 didn't seem to mind at all.

Gosh, was she this sensitive?

"Okay, I'll take it from here." She took another sip of alcohol, before chugging it all down. "Honestly, I'm surprised too."

Marron chose to leave the table, disgusted, but just stood, as if waiting for her mother to buy her candy.

"He's a good man. And he's too wild for an innocent-looking guy like him," I'd say.

*Woah! Probably tipsy.*

"Mom!" Marron groaned.

"I'm sorry, sweetie . . ."

"Speaking of innocent, I'm surprised that Goku had managed to have two kids!" Launch placed her glass of wine, buckling up her knees to her chair while swaying her arms for emphasis.

"Really now?" 18 asked.

The mentioning of Goku made her stomach churn for some reason.

"And from what I've heard, he's now a grandpa?"

Wait, she just realized how old he truly was, just because of his young face, the same face that would make her squeal occasionally, deceived her. Blame it on the genes of a Saiyan! But despite of that, even if he was still in his twenties, she shouldn't try liking him to *that* extent.

He had a wife!

Still, these conditions wouldn't change her opinions about him. He was still her favorite character. It was just a shame he was on her reality.

If fate would permit, she wished Goku was adjusting to the environment of her reality, and she wished the twins could try and help him, if, by chance, they met. And those pile of trash—Kate, Rick . . . Colleen! Aliza wished they wouldn't find out about him, or he'd just get in more trouble.

Colleen . . . Aliza missed her.

Tears welled up her eyes, and she couldn't help but feel helpless against the melancholy's strong grip. She stood up, trying hard not to let them notice.

They did, and they, as inevitable as it could get, asked her what's going on. She just let it slide, but they persisted.

"Please, it's okay."

"Are you sure? You can always trust us," 18 said.

"Yes, just a little emotional."

"Being a teen sucks!" Launch said, patting her shoulders. "How old are you?"

"17?"

"Good, just two years more, and you'll be an adult."

18 laughed, making Launch ask, "What?!" before the three of them laughed. Through that laugh, it seemed as though the weight on her shoulders were gone.

"Mom!" Marron bellowed.

"Yes—Oh, yeah. I forgot. I'm supposed to be hosting this party." She giggled. "Aliza, Launch, it was really nice meeting you. Marron, don't you agree?"

"Yeah, they're cool," she said, sounding nonchalant.

This, this was the reciprocation she had sought for years. She didn't want to go to back in time.

Then there was a sneeze, and a cloud of smoke suddenly appeared around Launch. There, violet now colored her hair, and her strong, intimidating features turned into that of a soft, feminine version of herself.

"Oh, hello, guys. Nice meeting you." The other Launch smiled, posture now prim.

It was no wonder to her that she could transform while sneezing, but this was just unprecedented.

Then, there it came . . . The Z fighters were running out of the door. Her pulses rose, and she ran and flew with them.

It was time.