Okay... that was personal. Definitely personal.
Bulma swallowed hard, glancing between the dead Leporino and the furious Yamcha.
She moved closer to Yamcha.
"You want to tell me what that was about? You're usually the guy playing it cool, but you almost took his head off. And what's with you being in Rokki anyway? This place is miles off your map. You didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood."
Yamcha lowered his fists, his breathing still ragged.
He didn't look at Leporino anymore; he looked at the floor.
"It happened after you guys took off. The client came back."
He swallowed hard, his voice cracking.
"I was off-site with Puar when it happened. By the time I walked back through those doors... there was nothing left to save. They were all dead."
Oolong's jaw dropped, his ears drooping as the realization hit him.
Bulma covered her mouth, her eyes widening in horror.
"My old man... Grizzlo... Diesella. They didn't even give 'em a chance. Just tossed 'em aside like they were nothing. Like trash."
He turned his head slowly toward the pig. The anger was gone, replaced by a crushing resignation.
"Mugicha called it. He knew exactly what was coming, and I just... I thought he'd lost his mind. Turns out I was the one with my head in the clouds. I should've listened to him, Oolong. Doubting him was the biggest mistake I ever made."
For once, Oolong didn't have a comeback. He just stared at Yamcha, his ears drooping. The "Desert Wolf" mask had fallen off, leaving just a guy who lost everything.
Goku stepped forward, looking Yamcha in the eye.
"So, you want to fight them to avenge your friends?"
"Yeah. They picked the wrong place to start a war. I'm gonna bury them in the sand they stepped on."
He looked around the group.
"Look, as long as you're carrying those things, you've got a bullseye on your backs. These people don't quit. They're gonna keep coming until they get what they want, or until we put them down."
He unclenched his fists, holding his hands open to show he wasn't a threat.
"Look, let's drop the grudge. Forget the bullshit we had in the past. I'm giving you my word, I'm not here for your dragon balls. I just want a clear line of sight to the bastards who did this. Let me ride with you."
Bulma tapped her chin, weighing the pros and cons.
Silence stretched in the room.
Finally, she dropped her hand and nodded.
"Fine, you've got a deal. If these guys keep sending hitters, we're gonna need more than luck. You want your shot at them, and I want to keep my head on my shoulders. Having you covering our backs just makes sense."
She stepped closer, looking up at him with a serious expression.
"Besides... you brought your family into this. A guy like you doesn't throw a promise like that around just to save face. I'm betting you'll keep your word. Just don't make me look like an idiot for believing you."
"Fair enough." Yamcha said, giving a single nod.
"One more thing." Bulma added, her eyes narrowing as she did the math in her head.
"What now?"
"Rokki is over two thousand kilometers from Brown Town. Even if that hit happened first thing this morning... how are you already here? I had to push my freighter to its limit."
Yamcha looked at her like the answer was obvious.
"I ran."
"You ran?" Bulma started to argue, but then she glanced at Goku, remembering him easily outstripping her car on foot few days ago.
She closed her mouth, exhaling slowly.
Right. These guys weren't normal.
"Fine. I guess that's a thing you can do."
"But why here? Why Rokki specifically?"
"This is where they first reached out to us, I figured if I wanted to find the source of the rot, this was the best place to start digging."
"Yeah, I guess it does... Oh, wait, nearly slipped my mind."
Bulma replied, already digging into her bag.
She pulled out the Dragon Radar, pressing the button to wake the screen.
Beep-beep.
Yamcha watched the grid light up, raising an eyebrow.
"No kidding. So that's it, huh? You really built something that can sniff those things out."
"Mm-hmm." She murmured, her eyes locked on the pulsing green grid.
"Custom-built. Still adjusting for the interference in this city."
"Why the suicide mission? You're playing a dangerous game for some shiny rocks. There's gotta be a hell of a prize at the end of this for you to be this desperate."
"Look, it's a whole thing. Way too much to get into right now." Bulma said, waving a hand like she was brushing away a fly.
"Let's just say it's personal and leave it at that—"
"It's for the Dragon!" Goku chirped, popping up between them like a jack-in-the-box.
"You put 'em all together, and boom, a giant dragon comes out and gives you a wish! Anything you want! That's what Bulma said when we started, anyway."
The room went ice cold. Bulma and Oolong froze in perfect synchronization.
Slowly, terrified, they turned their heads to look at Goku, their eyes practically burning holes into him.
Shut. Up.
Yamcha didn't notice the glares. He was staring at the wall, processing.
"...So that's the prize. A wish. Makes sense why they want us dead so bad. That kind of power... that changes the whole game."
"Hey!" Oolong snapped, jumping in front of Yamcha.
"Don't get any funny ideas, pal! Take a hike! Those wishes are ours—err, Bulma's!"
Yamcha sighed, crossing his arms.
"Chill out. I gave you my word, didn't I? In the desert, that actually means something. I'm not here to steal your prize."
"Alright." Bulma interrupted, stepping between them.
"I'm moving up. You guys stick to my shadow. If anyone asks, we're lost tourists. If they draw a weapon... well, you know what to do. Let's go."
//////////////////////////////////////
She held the radar up, tilting it slightly.
Bulma kicked the door to the janitor's closet open, coughing as a cloud of dust puffed out.
There, nestled inside a rusty bucket between a mop and a bottle of bleach, sat the three star dragon ball.
"Unbelievable. They tossed it in a cleaning closet like it was trash."
She wiped it off on her shirt.
"It was definitely bait. They knew the signal would lead us right into that ambush."
"Well, at least we got it." Goku said, peering over her shoulder.
"Where's the next one?"
"Let's see..." Bulma pulled out the Dragon Radar, clicking the button to recalibrate the scan. The grid refreshed, the green line sweeping across the screen.
Ping.
Her eyes went wide. She tapped the screen, thinking it was a glitch.
Ping.
Ping.
"No way..." She whispered.
"What's wrong?Is it far?" Yamcha asked, stepping closer.
"That's the problem." Bulma said, turning the radar for them to see. A bright yellow blip was pulsing just a few streets away.
"It's not far at all. There's another dragon ball... and it's right here in Rokki."
A distant wail cut through the air, growing louder by the second.
Blue and red lights began to flash against the hotel windows.
"Cops, all that noise drew a crowd. We gotta vanish, now." Yamcha grabbed his walkie-talkie.
"Puar? Start the engine. We need to go now, buddy. Round back."
He waved at the group.
"Come on, follow me. I know a blind spot in the alley."
"Hold on." Bulma said, stopping in front of a door.
SECURITY.
"Are you crazy?! The police are downstairs!" Oolong shrieked.
"Give me ninety seconds." She said, slipping inside and locking the door.
/////////////////////////////////////////
Oolong checked his watch, foot tapping impatiently as the sirens got closer.
Exactly one minute and thirty seconds later, the door swung open. Bulma walked out, smoothing her skirt.
"Okay, wow we can leave."
"What were you doing in there?!" Oolong asked, sweating bullets.
"Cameras are looped. I scrubbed the last sixty minutes."
She caught their look. and cleared her throat, looking a little flushed.
"What? I have an image to maintain. Do you have any idea what my mother would say if I was spotted running around a place like this? It's not exactly on brand for a Starch."
They burst onto the roof, the wind whipping their hair as the heavy steel door slammed shut behind them.
Yamcha ran to the edge, peering down into the dark alleyway.
"Got eyes on him. Puar's set." Yamcha said, spotting the taxi below.
Goku didn't even hesitate.
"Cannonball!" he shouted, diving off the roof.
Oolong transformed mid-run, turning into a bat and spiraling down after him.
"Wait for meee!"
Bulma stood at the precipice, looking pale.
"Okay... that's high. Really high." She began unzipping her bag.
"I have a repelling wire... or an emergency chute... I just need a minute to rig the harness..."
"We don't have a minute!" Yamcha said, stepping up beside her.
"Excuse me? I'm not jumping without equipment! I need to waaaaah—"
"Sorry, Princess. We're taking the shortcut."
"Wh—hey!"
Yamcha swept her up by the waist, hoisting her off her feet with effortless strength. Bulma gasped, grabbing his shirt for dear life as he grinned.
"Don't look down."
Then, he jumped.
The wind roared in their ears, whipping Bulma's hair into a frenzy. She buried her face in Yamcha's chest, screaming at a frequency that probably shattered a few windows on the way down.
Yamcha, conversely, was dead silent, his eyes locked on the yellow roof of the cab rapidly approaching.
"Open up, Puar!" He shouted against the wind.
The back door of the taxi swung open automatically. Y
amcha adjusted his grip, twisted his body in mid-air to absorb the momentum, and landed on the asphalt right beside the car.
He didn't waste a millisecond, he dove into the backseat, pulling Bulma in with him just as Oolong fluttered through the open window, panting.
"Go! Go! Go!" Yamcha yelled, slamming the door shut.
The taxi screeched its tires, which sounded suspiciously like a high-pitched meow rather than burning rubber, and peeled out of the alley.
They drifted around the corner just as a police cruiser slammed into the trash cans behind them, lights flashing in the rearview mirror.
Inside the car, Goku was bouncing on the seat, looking out the back window.
"Woo-hoo! That was awesome! Did you see me? I did a flip!"
"Hey, where's the driver?" Oolong asked.
"You're looking at him, dummy," a voice echoed through the car.
The steering wheel rippled.
The driver's seat shrank, fur sprouting where fabric had been, and a small blue cat popped up behind the wheel, paws planted confidently at ten and two.
Puar flicked his ears back, eyes on the mirrors.
"Seatbelts. Please."
Bulma, however, was not cheering.
She was breathing hard, her hands still clutching Yamcha's shirt.
Slowly, the realization of what just happened caught up to her.
She let go of him as if he were on fire, her face turning a mix of beet-red and furious.
"Are you out of your mind?! I told you to give me a second! We could have been splattered all over the pavement!" She shoved him away, smoothing down her skirt.
Yamcha leaned back against the seat, exhaling a long breath.
He looked completely unbothered, giving her a lopsided grin.
"Stop screaming. I didn't drop you, did I? You're fine. Consider that my contribution to the plan."
"Yamcha, you landed really hard on my left tire!" Puar's voice squeaked from the dashboard, sounding strained.
"Sorry, buddy. Just get us to the outskirts. We need to lay low until the heat dies down." Yamcha patted the dashboard affectionately.