DBZ Story: Mafia Z ch 1
Title: Mafia Z
Rating: PG-13 - NC-17
Pairing: none - yet. story centers around Piccolo and Gohan
Disclaimer: I don't own DB, DBZ, nor do I own the mafia.
Summary: In a world of mob bosses, underground crime rings, and prohibition, Son Gohan lives a uniquely happy life with his father, Goku and his mother Chi-Chi - happy, until the day Don Vegeta calls upon his father for a job, and everything goes horribly wrong and he's taken hostage by a rival Family.
Warnings: Violence, child abuse (in the beginning, stops after a few chapters), Stockholm Syndrom, Character Deaths, and for good measure, Piccolo/Gohan slash in Future chapters
~~~~~1~~~~~
They moved swiftly, darting through the shadows of the city like ghosts; nothing more than darkness and death whispering behind the footsteps of their victim. Cymbal raised his hand and Piccolo stopped, his antennae twitching as he sensed the area, feeling out for the life forces of those around him.
There was no one else. Just the man and themselves.
He swallowed hard, glancing up at the Enforcer next to him. Piccolo gripped the wood handles of his weapon, holding tight to either end and feeling the butterflies within his belly threaten to crawl up and out of his throat. Their father had insisted it was time. After three years of shadowing his half brother on missions, their father, Don Piccolo Daimao, insisted he graduate and take the next step.
The man staggered and laughed. The alcohol rolling off him in waves and Piccolo wrinkled his nose at the smell. The nerves didn’t leave, but his confidence returned. The man before them was a waste of water and air. No wonder Father was tired of his clumsy and useless space.
“Now.” The half-namekian whispered and Piccolo stepped out, his movements fast and strong for a boy no more than twelve, and Piccolo leapt upon him, his piano wire garrote slipping over the man’s head and with a twist of his arms and a shove of his knee against the man’s back, the sickening slide of wire into flesh gargled the man’s speech. He flailed, clawing at his neck and Piccolo snarled, barring his fangs and pulling back on the wire all the harder. The man struggled and writhed under him with wet noises foaming from his mouth. His nails ripped against the wire and his fingers grew bloody; but his movements slowed and till they grew still.
Piccolo controlled his fall, easing him to the pavement without lessening his hold and after a minute, and without a twitch from the man’s body, Piccolo finally relaxed and unwound the wire from his head. He wiped at his brow panting, his heart raced wildly with adrenaline.
The unmoving body at his feet was odd. Piccolo had seen plenty of dead men before; he had joined Cymbal on his missions for the last three years, learning what it took to be an Enforcer and a future Don. He had never stared at a dead man before knowing his hand ended their miserable life.
Scowling, Piccolo turned to Cymbal and tossed the bloody garrote at him and bent down to wipe his hands clean upon the man’s overcoat. “This was too good for the thief and liar.”
Cymbal narrowed his eyes, pocketing the wire. “You did your father proud. The Don will be pleased.”
Piccolo shrugged, but a spike of pleasure flared in his chest. His father would be proud of him for this. He fought the smile and folded his arms instead, glaring at the dead man. “We should go.”
They left , moving just as silent and quick as they had before, leaving the scene behind, escaping into the shadows and back home where Don Piccolo Daimao kissed his son upon the cheeks and toasted his success and reminded all that Piccolo Jr. was his heir and would be just as powerful as himself. The praise filled Piccolo with pride and determination. He would prove to his father he was the best. In fact, he would become the best Enforcer in all of his father’s family. He would prove he could not only lead this family, but enforce it as well.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Gohan peeked around the corner of the hallway from his room, watching his mother and father whisper to one another in the parlor. He couldn’t hear them, but mother was crying even though she had that look on her face that said she wasn’t going to give up.
His father bowed his head, his shoulders falling and his mother finally smiled, sad and wet, and she leaned toward him, sliding her arms about his broad shoulders and pulled him in close to her. She ran her fingers through his hair and he gripped at her shoulder, hiding himself against the crook of her neck.
“It’ll be okay.” She said loud enough for Gohan to hear. He frowned and turned, sneaking back into his room with his tail between his legs and carefully shut the door. He glanced at his school books, knowing he should really finish his homework otherwise his mother was going to scold him for his slackness; but if he sat down to work, he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus.
Instead, Gohan pulled his burnt orange colored tweed jacket on and opened his bedroom window, slipping outside into the crisp evening air. The sun still hung low; maybe only half an hour till seven; and the slowly encroaching autumn air remained relatively warm due to its rays. It was just warm enough to be comfortable and just crisp enough to clear his head, and Gohan sighed in relief. What would make mother cry and make his father look so sad? His father was never sad. People called him Smiley because he was always grinning. Even when that small scary guy came around, Mr. Vegi-something, his father never failed to smile and laugh and make the other man angry at him, even as he offered his father a job working for him; but father always refused with that same, happy smile.
Gohan squatted down, cupping his face in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees and watched the sunset. His tail wove slowly back and forth through the air. It bugged him and he didn’t like feeling like this. Maybe if he just asked them? He was getting older and father was right, he needed to grow up. If he could help them somehow, he would feel so much better.
“Gohan!”
He jerked his head up and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see his mother rush to the window and exhale loudly as she spotted him. His father nearly tripped out the front door as he burst out onto the porch and he did the same thing, sighing in relief and visibly deflated once he saw him. His father’s tail was puffed up too. Gohan didn’t think he had ever seen it that way before.
“I’m sorry, mother, I was just thinking. It got stuffy in my room.” He stood and wandered over to the window, his fingers tugging and digging at the hem of his jacket, nervously looking from his mother to his father. “I just….” He paused and swallowed, “I was just wondering what you were talking about.” He frowned, dropping his head in shame. Eavesdropping - no good boy did that sort of thing. He half expected his mother to scold him. “It seems like it’s bad and…and I want to help.”
His mother pulled back, her hand to her heart and his father pushed his hands into his pockets, his suspenders glaring and orange against his white shirt.
“Gohan-“
“Chichi, Gohan and I are going to the market before it closes. Do you need us to pick up anything?” his father interrupted and Gohan frowned, peeking back up at his parents.
Her fingers curled in her blouse but she shook her head, blinking her eyes quickly. “No…just hurry back.” She whispered, hoarse and shaky, and she shut the window.
Slapping his hand down upon his shoulder, his father turned him and they headed for the road, their shoes kicking up gravel. His father’s hands were so large. Gohan wondered if he would grow to be as tall as him one day. He thought he would like that. He wanted to keep everyone he loved safe just like his father made him feel safe.
“Gohan, you know what I do for a living, right?”
Gohan nodded slowly. “I…I think so.”
“Can you tell me what you think it is?” He asked, turning to look at his son and Gohan’s insides clenched. His father looked so - ashamed.
“Well, you are a boxer. You train hard and if you win, you get to bring home prize money.” he wasn’t sure of himself anymore.
Smiling - though it didn’t reach his eyes - his father nodded. “I am a prize fighter, yes; but I don’t always fight in legitimate ring fights.” He frowned. “I…I do a lot of underground fights, Gohan. Your uncle Radditz, he…” He winced and he stopped, staring down at Gohan.
“Father?”
“When your uncle Radditz and I were younger, we…we joined up with the Saiyan Mafia family. We had a cousin at the time whose family had been with them for generations and we thought that it would be the only way we could live. Back then, it was really hard for saiyans to get jobs, and I had just met your mother and I just wanted to give our family the life I never did and...” he licked his lips and Gohan felt his lower lip trembling. He didn’t know why he was so upset. But he was and he felt tears gathering at the corner of his eyes even as he hung on his father’s every word.
“Your Grandpa taught Radditz and me to fight, you know? And I loved it. I was really good at it too. I thought maybe if I joined too, the Saiyan Mafia could get me into the big prize money rings and I could start a career. But-“he rubbed at the back of his head. “But the underground games paid more and I got to keep more of the cash. It seemed like a good deal.”
His father became quiet and Gohan rubbed at his eyes, biting his lower lip to keep himself from making any noise. His nose clogged, his head hurt, and tears ran hot over his cold cheeks and Gohan couldn’t move. He just couldn’t. This wasn’t what he thought his father did.
“A few years back, Mr. Vegeta came to me and said he had a job for me, and he would pay me himself. I just had to…” He swallowed hard, “I just had to beat someone up. Tell them to not be late on their payments again, and then I could leave. Radditz came with me and I did my job. I, I beat up the guy with his family watching and…it wasn’t what Vegeta said it would be. After I finished my part, Radditz cut the man’s fingers off.” He winced and Gohan watched tears gather in his father’s eyes and it made everything worse. “I didn’t know he was going to do that. I would have stopped him.”
Gohan hiccupped against his will and his father flinched but as he wiped his eyes and looked down at him, Gohan didn’t care. He was actually kind of happy his father was feeling guilty.
“I’m sorry…I told Vegeta I wouldn’t do it anymore but he…he makes me do it sometimes. I have to if I want to keep you and your mother safe. But last year, I watched Mr. Nappa kill someone because that was what his orders were, and I had enough. I told the police and they got the Feds involved. They made me a deal, Gohan. They said they would keep us all safe if I testified against the Saiyan Mafia in court. With what I saw, I can at least put away some of the big guys.” He bowed his head and Gohan wiped his nose on his jacket, making a ragged sound in the back of his throat.
His father wasn’t a prize fighting athlete. He was something he didn’t even know what to call. He didn’t know what to think anymore. His father had always been his hero and now? Now he was just like any other guy on the street willing to do anything for money.
Father’s hand landed on his shoulder again and Gohan hiccupped, suddenly hating those large hands. The same hands used to hurt people.
“Come on, let’s go home.” He whispered and turned Gohan around, walking back in silence.
It didn’t last long though. Just as they came within sight of the front porch, a pair of runners raced toward them, panting as they stopped in front of Goku.
“Boss wants to see you.” The one on the left panted, lifting a hand to push his hat back onto his head. “Gots something for you that is real important.”
“No.” Goku said and pushed past them and Gohan felt his fingers tighten on his shoulder. He glanced over at the two men; the one on the right scowling.
“No ain’t going to work tonight, Mr. Son. Boss said you have to work late tonight or you know what will happen.”
He stiffed and Gohan grabbed his father’s shirt, tears racing down his cheeks and he didn’t care if the other men thought him a baby. He didn’t want his father to go. He knew now what this would mean and he didn’t want it to end up like this. “Father…”
Patting him on the back, Goku bent down to look Gohan in the face, his smile fake. “Now now, you run along and tell your mother I’ll be working late. Maybe she’ll be able to buy that material for a new dress now. I’ll be home soon. You be good for your mother, son.”
Gohan pushed against him and turned, running from him, his lungs gasping for air. He scrambled up the steps of his home and he jerked the door open, slamming it shut behind him and he didn’t stop till he fell into his mother’s arms, crying against her apron.
“Oh, Gohan.” She whispered and hugged him tight, carding her fingers through his hair. “It’ll be all right soon enough.” She soothed and he wished he could believe her.
~~~~~*~~~~~
TBC....