Yeah, I know, I really shouldn't be starting another fic, but once I finish the next chapter to the Capitol Room, all I'll have to work on is Coral Minor. Sooo.... I'm adding this one too. It is NOT as super religious as your gonna think and I most definately NOT trying to promote religion at all. It's just a part of the fic, and I hope that if you have any qualms with the idea of an angels *coughs* Goten *coughs* that you don't read. ^.^ Thanks everyone! Also, just so you know, Bra is NOT Trunks sister in this fic.
Disclaimer;
Goten: *grumbles and trips* Dammit, Jack, you got my robe in the wrong size! I can hardly walk in this thing.
Trunks: It's a dress, Goten. Women can hardly walk in them, you think *you* can do any better?
Goten: Hey, shut up or I'll go Condemn Meister on your ass!
Jack: . Would you two just say it already!
Goten and Trunks: *turn angry heads* FINE YOU DON'T OWN DBZ! NOW LEAVE US ALONE!
***************
"Have you ever woken up one day to find everything was different than it was before you went to sleep? Did you ever look at one thing when you were younger and now it brings a whole new meaning to mind? Well, don't be afraid my friends, for that is the power of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ-" The screen went black, the idol behind the remote rolling his crystal blue eyes while flinging the black controller over the chair.
"Who are people kidding? God in this day and age? Ha. The church won't last another week," he muttered to himself, going to his feet with extended arms to the ceiling, stretching lean, lightly defined muscles. He was tired. Doing a show everynight this week was beginning to wear on him. He was young though, 16, and he had quite a few years ahead of him his voice didn't wear.
The phone rang from the kitchen. Frowning, he went in, adjusted the towel on his shoulders, and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hello, munchkin! It's your angel calling!" Trunks rolled his eyes, rummaging through the fridge for a Slimfast. 'Oy,' he complained in his mind. This wasn't how he'd have liked to start his day.
"Pan, you really need to stop saying stuff like that. The whole religion thing just isn't me, k? I mean, look at the lyrics to my new song," he laughed. Her pout, which he hated with a passion, was heard in the following whine.
"Aw, Trunks-baby your no fun sometimes." he raised an eyebrow and pulled the phone away for a moment before returning it to his shoulder.
"Somehow I doubt that. Look I gotta go. Lunch with some important people. I'll talk to you later." With a quick press of a button, the line went dead. Shaking his purple head of hair, Trunks threw the towel on the floor and went to his room, changing into the 'futuristic' outfit he was told to be known in.
The 16-year-old grimaced at the tight silver pants and loose dark violet shirt. He'd have passed out if anyone had tried to get him into such a monstrosity last year... Before any corporations had gotten to his mind, music had eliminated his faith, and the fans made him give up on love.
He looked at the window, his reflection staring back at him. A flash of the old him came into view. The small square glasses, the pure purple hair without the monstrous blood red tips on the end, and the blue eyes that had had a more positive outlook on life.
His bodyguard Rauren opened the door and lowered his sunglasses.
"They're hear for you, Mr. Briefs." Trunks nodded and Rauren exited. He sighed, running a hand over the glass, eliminating the memory from his mind. His silver sunglasses were put on and he turned away, closing off any memory from the old him.
No longer was he that innocent Catholic boy. Now he was Trunks Briefs.
Superstar.
***************
Figures in white glided around the room. There was very little distinction between the people and their surroundings, the pure color nearly blinding to the eye.
One person in particular walked down the hall, rubbing her eyes as several other people walked beside her. The voices were talking in sync, all mumbling gibberish about this case or another.
"Listen," she said, turning flashing blue eyes to everyone, stopping in front of her office. "I'm head of this orginazation, not your mommy! You got a problem with your case, go to your case director and *don't* bother me unless it's important!" Turning into the room, she closed the door behind her and sank into her office chair.
"Puh, angels." She glared at her fists and closed them, the vein in her forehead making a small appearance. "Sometimes I could just.."
"Uh uh uh... What ideas in such a place," the blonde haired man said from his chair across her desk. He fingered the name plate in his hands, mocking her with his smile. "I would expect the President of Faithful affairs to have more control than that." She rolled her eyes, looking through various files scattered on her desk.
"Oh, be quiet William. This isn't heaven," she mumbled, marking something before pushing it through a mailbox-like opening in the side of her desk.
"Of course not. There isn't a heaven for this to be." The older man stood, the length of his robe shuffling on the floors as his eyes inspected the frame promise each 'angel' gave and had posted on their office. He'd memorized such a document, though it never bothered him to read it once every so often.
'I, Bra, swear that as a Faith Carrier, I will protect and ensure the hope and faith in every person put under my wing and that under the precedents of my fore fathers and mothers, that it shall be so with all around me.' He smiled. A nice promise.
"So," Bra drawled, signing a few papers before sending them on their way. "What brings you to my neck of the Belief?" (AN: Just so you know, 'Belief' is the world that these Faith Carriers or 'Angels' live in. Not a heaven because these people don't follow a specific religion.)
"Well, Jonas, the person guarding one..." he checked the file in his hand and looked at her again. "Trunks Briefs has disappeared. Which means only one thing..." Bra's face grew solemn, and she nodded.
"He's given up his faith." Silence remained for a few moments, before William shifted.
"I want you to assign someone else to him." She blinked at him before frowning.
"I can't risk that. If they're unsuccesful, they'll be gone too! I can't have some of my best people, which is exactly who we're gonna need to try and bring him back, going back to Earth has humans! I need them here!"
"Don't raise your voice with me," he threatened, getting to his feet as well. Hazel bore down into blue, daring her to challenge him. She looked away, backing down.
"Good. Now I know this isn't the best situation, but it's something we're gonna have to do. And I believe I already have someone in mind...." She raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
***************
"Groove is in the heaartttttt, groove is in the heaarrrrrrtttt, grove is in the heaaaaaarrrrrttt, GROOVE! is in the hear-" Goten raised any eyebrow and turned, mid hip twist to face to amused faces.
"Uh, Lady President, I didn't expect-"
"Sit down, Goten," she said, seating herself while ignoring his attempt to speak.
"Okay."
"Now listen. We have something very important we need you to do...."
**************
Goten sank into his chair two hours later, staring out the window of his office as the sun sank in the sky. All the files on this Trunks character were spread across his desk. From what they said, it was a surprise that something like this would happen.
As close as last year, Trunks had been an ideal student. Active in school plays and sports, singing in the choirs, playing in the band, helping out at all different places of gathering, including a Jewish Temple and an Atheist-based camp. His grades were sublime. All A's with a B thrown in here or there, friends to space and beyond, and the a pleasantly rich family where he was the only son. What had happened?
Publicity was his guess. Ever since he'd entered a singing contest and gotten signed to a binding contract with a music company, things had gone downhill. The executives didn't like his original lyrics, full of lovey-dovey-boring-crap it quotes. So, they gave him a makeover, both physically and mentally, and you had the atheistic purple-red haired teen idol, rocking the American TV scene with his music about sleeping with women and rotting into nothingness when you die. The things you hear about these days, he thought with a sigh.
The arrangements had all been made for his arrival in the real world, but he was going to lay back and just observe for awhile. Get a feel for this person. At least he'd get an idea of how to approach the guy without getting attacked or ignored.
Yawning, he walked out into the hall and took the elevator down, suprised to see the blue haired Bra in there as well.
"Oh, hello Goten," she said, her voice thick with sleep. He gave her a smile and pressed his floor. The doors closed and they didn't speak, both going somewhere they'd rather not be.
"That reminds me...Here ya go." Bra reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, putting it in his hand before she exited.
"Just stick to those rules and you'll be fine. See me later with your report, k? Have a goodnight, Goten."
"You too, Bra." As the elevator fell back into motion, he looked at the sheet and read the words.
1- Don't get personal. Don't give out information that would give you a tie to the person and would lead to emotions which would interfere with your judgement.
2- Refrain from revealing your dead abilities (See wings, the ability not to make contact, and the fact you don't eat.)
3- And most importantly, if you don't follow any of the other two rules, follow this one.
Don't
Fall
In
Love.
'That won't be too hard,' he thought to himself, folding up the scrap and replacing it in his pocket.
Goten walked down the street of sorts and to the end of it, staring down at the shining lights of nightime New York and closing his eyes, smiling.
'Just go down, get the job done and return back here. Then, I'll have filled up my card and I can be reborn once more.' His brown eyes searched for a good area to enter and sat down.
"Okay, Trunks Briefs. Here I come."
***************
Well, thanks for even making it this far. It's not too long, seeing as it's just the prolouge, but I hope I got you interested! See, Belief isn't heaven because there's no organized religion in the world that has come up with it. It's just a place filled up with beings that I've made up that are just there to make sure that people believe in something, not necessarily following a certain religion. I'm sorry if that made no sense. @_@ I'm known to ramble. Well, let me know what you think and if it's negative, just don't say anything. ^.^ Thanks! -Jack
Disclaimer;
Goten: *grumbles and trips* Dammit, Jack, you got my robe in the wrong size! I can hardly walk in this thing.
Trunks: It's a dress, Goten. Women can hardly walk in them, you think *you* can do any better?
Goten: Hey, shut up or I'll go Condemn Meister on your ass!
Jack: . Would you two just say it already!
Goten and Trunks: *turn angry heads* FINE YOU DON'T OWN DBZ! NOW LEAVE US ALONE!
***************
"Have you ever woken up one day to find everything was different than it was before you went to sleep? Did you ever look at one thing when you were younger and now it brings a whole new meaning to mind? Well, don't be afraid my friends, for that is the power of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ-" The screen went black, the idol behind the remote rolling his crystal blue eyes while flinging the black controller over the chair.
"Who are people kidding? God in this day and age? Ha. The church won't last another week," he muttered to himself, going to his feet with extended arms to the ceiling, stretching lean, lightly defined muscles. He was tired. Doing a show everynight this week was beginning to wear on him. He was young though, 16, and he had quite a few years ahead of him his voice didn't wear.
The phone rang from the kitchen. Frowning, he went in, adjusted the towel on his shoulders, and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hello, munchkin! It's your angel calling!" Trunks rolled his eyes, rummaging through the fridge for a Slimfast. 'Oy,' he complained in his mind. This wasn't how he'd have liked to start his day.
"Pan, you really need to stop saying stuff like that. The whole religion thing just isn't me, k? I mean, look at the lyrics to my new song," he laughed. Her pout, which he hated with a passion, was heard in the following whine.
"Aw, Trunks-baby your no fun sometimes." he raised an eyebrow and pulled the phone away for a moment before returning it to his shoulder.
"Somehow I doubt that. Look I gotta go. Lunch with some important people. I'll talk to you later." With a quick press of a button, the line went dead. Shaking his purple head of hair, Trunks threw the towel on the floor and went to his room, changing into the 'futuristic' outfit he was told to be known in.
The 16-year-old grimaced at the tight silver pants and loose dark violet shirt. He'd have passed out if anyone had tried to get him into such a monstrosity last year... Before any corporations had gotten to his mind, music had eliminated his faith, and the fans made him give up on love.
He looked at the window, his reflection staring back at him. A flash of the old him came into view. The small square glasses, the pure purple hair without the monstrous blood red tips on the end, and the blue eyes that had had a more positive outlook on life.
His bodyguard Rauren opened the door and lowered his sunglasses.
"They're hear for you, Mr. Briefs." Trunks nodded and Rauren exited. He sighed, running a hand over the glass, eliminating the memory from his mind. His silver sunglasses were put on and he turned away, closing off any memory from the old him.
No longer was he that innocent Catholic boy. Now he was Trunks Briefs.
Superstar.
***************
Figures in white glided around the room. There was very little distinction between the people and their surroundings, the pure color nearly blinding to the eye.
One person in particular walked down the hall, rubbing her eyes as several other people walked beside her. The voices were talking in sync, all mumbling gibberish about this case or another.
"Listen," she said, turning flashing blue eyes to everyone, stopping in front of her office. "I'm head of this orginazation, not your mommy! You got a problem with your case, go to your case director and *don't* bother me unless it's important!" Turning into the room, she closed the door behind her and sank into her office chair.
"Puh, angels." She glared at her fists and closed them, the vein in her forehead making a small appearance. "Sometimes I could just.."
"Uh uh uh... What ideas in such a place," the blonde haired man said from his chair across her desk. He fingered the name plate in his hands, mocking her with his smile. "I would expect the President of Faithful affairs to have more control than that." She rolled her eyes, looking through various files scattered on her desk.
"Oh, be quiet William. This isn't heaven," she mumbled, marking something before pushing it through a mailbox-like opening in the side of her desk.
"Of course not. There isn't a heaven for this to be." The older man stood, the length of his robe shuffling on the floors as his eyes inspected the frame promise each 'angel' gave and had posted on their office. He'd memorized such a document, though it never bothered him to read it once every so often.
'I, Bra, swear that as a Faith Carrier, I will protect and ensure the hope and faith in every person put under my wing and that under the precedents of my fore fathers and mothers, that it shall be so with all around me.' He smiled. A nice promise.
"So," Bra drawled, signing a few papers before sending them on their way. "What brings you to my neck of the Belief?" (AN: Just so you know, 'Belief' is the world that these Faith Carriers or 'Angels' live in. Not a heaven because these people don't follow a specific religion.)
"Well, Jonas, the person guarding one..." he checked the file in his hand and looked at her again. "Trunks Briefs has disappeared. Which means only one thing..." Bra's face grew solemn, and she nodded.
"He's given up his faith." Silence remained for a few moments, before William shifted.
"I want you to assign someone else to him." She blinked at him before frowning.
"I can't risk that. If they're unsuccesful, they'll be gone too! I can't have some of my best people, which is exactly who we're gonna need to try and bring him back, going back to Earth has humans! I need them here!"
"Don't raise your voice with me," he threatened, getting to his feet as well. Hazel bore down into blue, daring her to challenge him. She looked away, backing down.
"Good. Now I know this isn't the best situation, but it's something we're gonna have to do. And I believe I already have someone in mind...." She raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
***************
"Groove is in the heaartttttt, groove is in the heaarrrrrrtttt, grove is in the heaaaaaarrrrrttt, GROOVE! is in the hear-" Goten raised any eyebrow and turned, mid hip twist to face to amused faces.
"Uh, Lady President, I didn't expect-"
"Sit down, Goten," she said, seating herself while ignoring his attempt to speak.
"Okay."
"Now listen. We have something very important we need you to do...."
**************
Goten sank into his chair two hours later, staring out the window of his office as the sun sank in the sky. All the files on this Trunks character were spread across his desk. From what they said, it was a surprise that something like this would happen.
As close as last year, Trunks had been an ideal student. Active in school plays and sports, singing in the choirs, playing in the band, helping out at all different places of gathering, including a Jewish Temple and an Atheist-based camp. His grades were sublime. All A's with a B thrown in here or there, friends to space and beyond, and the a pleasantly rich family where he was the only son. What had happened?
Publicity was his guess. Ever since he'd entered a singing contest and gotten signed to a binding contract with a music company, things had gone downhill. The executives didn't like his original lyrics, full of lovey-dovey-boring-crap it quotes. So, they gave him a makeover, both physically and mentally, and you had the atheistic purple-red haired teen idol, rocking the American TV scene with his music about sleeping with women and rotting into nothingness when you die. The things you hear about these days, he thought with a sigh.
The arrangements had all been made for his arrival in the real world, but he was going to lay back and just observe for awhile. Get a feel for this person. At least he'd get an idea of how to approach the guy without getting attacked or ignored.
Yawning, he walked out into the hall and took the elevator down, suprised to see the blue haired Bra in there as well.
"Oh, hello Goten," she said, her voice thick with sleep. He gave her a smile and pressed his floor. The doors closed and they didn't speak, both going somewhere they'd rather not be.
"That reminds me...Here ya go." Bra reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, putting it in his hand before she exited.
"Just stick to those rules and you'll be fine. See me later with your report, k? Have a goodnight, Goten."
"You too, Bra." As the elevator fell back into motion, he looked at the sheet and read the words.
1- Don't get personal. Don't give out information that would give you a tie to the person and would lead to emotions which would interfere with your judgement.
2- Refrain from revealing your dead abilities (See wings, the ability not to make contact, and the fact you don't eat.)
3- And most importantly, if you don't follow any of the other two rules, follow this one.
Don't
Fall
In
Love.
'That won't be too hard,' he thought to himself, folding up the scrap and replacing it in his pocket.
Goten walked down the street of sorts and to the end of it, staring down at the shining lights of nightime New York and closing his eyes, smiling.
'Just go down, get the job done and return back here. Then, I'll have filled up my card and I can be reborn once more.' His brown eyes searched for a good area to enter and sat down.
"Okay, Trunks Briefs. Here I come."
***************
Well, thanks for even making it this far. It's not too long, seeing as it's just the prolouge, but I hope I got you interested! See, Belief isn't heaven because there's no organized religion in the world that has come up with it. It's just a place filled up with beings that I've made up that are just there to make sure that people believe in something, not necessarily following a certain religion. I'm sorry if that made no sense. @_@ I'm known to ramble. Well, let me know what you think and if it's negative, just don't say anything. ^.^ Thanks! -Jack