Blackash26: Oh my god! I just bought Dragon Ball Z!

Fallen: No, you didn't.

Blackash26: Yes I did, here are the rights, and I just got them through a fax!

Fallen: No, you just copied them off some random website not worth mentioning, so stop saying that you ownitbefore the FEDs come and arrest us!

Blackash26: Oh alright! I don't own anything except Fallen and all other creatures of my own making for my own deranged purposes. (You big meanie!)

Fallen: I heard that!

Blackash26 (innocently): What?

The Chase

"Ahhhhhh!" cried Gohan as he dashed through the forest undergrowth. He narrowly missed hitting a low hanging branch, jumping out of the way only seconds before impact. He stumbled, but was up again and running, just as quickly.

He could hear the four legged beast running behind him, slowly gaining. His over imaginative mind thought it could hear the beast's stomach growling. This only spurred thought of what would happen if the beast caught him.

So he ran faster, faster than he ever had before, while thoughts of what it was like to be eaten alive played like a broken record around his head.

Piccolo watched the boy running through the jungle with worry. It occurred to him that Gohan could get hurt by that wild beast that was chasing him. The boy had the makings of a great fighter; he was just slow about realizing his capabilities. This was Gohan's problem and the reason Piccolo was worried that he might not be able to handle the beast on his own.

He considered going out to help the boy, and immediately shoved the thought away. It had already been two months since he had left the kid on his own. As far as he was concerned nothing much had changed. Oh, to be sure he was a little stronger, faster, braver, but it a little wasn't enough. And a little wasn't going to cut it when the Saiyans arrived in ten months.

Anyway, since when would he, the great Piccolo, take the time to even think about helping anyone but himself? What was happening to him? He was growing soft. He groaned in disgust at himself, and flew off to the other side of the wilderness to train, and get away from the kid that somehow worming his way into once icy heart.

As he was running, Gohan remembered why he was in the forest in the first place. He felt sorrow weigh on his heart as well as guilt, for he was sure that his father's death was his fault. Gohan knew he should have been able to save him.

While he was pondering his guilt, the young demi-saiyan forgot to pay attention to where he was running and promptly fell flat on his face. The beast was on him in an instant, teeth barred.

On instinct Gohan threw up his hands to ward off the attack. He caught one of the thing's heads in his hands and tried to keep the monster's mouth firmly shut. This was something the ugly four headed creature did not like, because it was severely impairing its eating ability. As the creature began to struggle more violently, Gohan leaned back and threw the creature off himself with all his strength.

The beast flew backwards and hit a tree. It cried out in pain as it hit the tree trunk with a sickening crack, leaving an indent in the shape of the beast and a large crack down the middle of the pour tree. The monster fell to the ground and let out a cry of pain. But it was instantly back on its feet and madder than ever!

Gohan scrambled up and took off running, as fast as his pour feet could take him, with the angry beast close at his heels.

Gohan groaned, he had a cramp and it was killing him. He had long ago out run the beast. Because the undergrowth he had been running through had gotten so thick that he could barley see where he was going. So logically, neither could the beast.

He sat down in a small clearing, clutching the stitch in his side, he had no idea how long he had been running, but it felt like it could have been for hours. Gohan glanced up at the sky to see that it was still relatively early, around ten o'clock in the morning. He sighed, he was exhausted from all the running, and he had gotten up very early. Not that he didn't wake up with the sun at about five in the morning, ever morning; it was just that he had been up for a long time.

He lay down, forgetting his cramp, he let his exhaustion overtake him and sleep claimed his troubled young mind. The five year old boy's last thoughts before he fell asleep were of how he wished his dad was there with him.