[3] The Road

[Sullivan]

Dimitri stood in a barren wasteland covered in filth and desolation. In front of him: horizon. Behind him: horizon. In fact, there was horizon surrounding him as far as the eye could see. And not much else, aside from dirt beneath his feet and trees around him.

"Where the Hell am I?" he asked, scratching his head and then looking down at a bug scurrying on the ground.

The bug looked back up at him and replied, "This is your subconscious. That guy tranquilized the Hell out of you. You're out like a light right now."

One of Dimitri's eyebrows arched like a gymnast doing a ten point stunt. He blinked and wiped sleep from his eyes; yet, when he looked back down the bug was still looking up him. When a couple moments of unpleasant staring passed, Dimitri sat down and accepted the arrival of the bug. The bug crawled into his lap and spoke to him.

"I am Gerald. Some cultures refer to visions such as myself as spirit guides. I'm going to help you have a revelation or something," Gerald said, while drumming his feelers on his thorax.

"Gerald? Well, Gerald, what I'd really like right now is for you to go away and to go back to what I was doing. My body's about to be traded for cash," snapped Dimitri.

"You don't need it," said the bug with a shrug. "Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is, the signs around you are all pointing towards manipulation. These guys are hunting you, yet, you were told to go hunt other people. Someone's getting lied to. See what I mean? What you all need to do, is get your shit in gear, band together, and get out of there through teamwork."

"That'll never work," replied Dimitri with a scowl. "I wanna kick people's asses. Nowhere in 'banding together' can 'kicking asses' be found."

"You can kick other asses."

Dimitri mulled this over for a moment before hastily getting to his feet, brushing the bug off in the same instant. It was not anybody's place to tell him how to deal with being stranded on a foreign island. Especially not a bug.

"I'm out of here," grumbled Dimitri. "Fucking bug."

*~*

Dimitri's watery eyes opened slowly to a blurred and distorted world filled with strange images. He was lying in a heap beneath someone else on what felt like cheap polyester. The humming around him sounded like an engine. There were people's voices, as well, chiming in and out, but not filtering through his heavy sedation. Then, suddenly, the world lurched and the body on top of him shifted enough that he could roll over.

A mess of blonde hair perched atop a familiar face swam into Dimitri's sight.

"Kaden?" he asked in a low voice. "What's going on?"

The courier looked over at Dimitri upon hearing his voice. "Dimitri? Are you alright?"

The saiyan shook his head. "No. These bastards drugged me...they're taking me for bounty. Get me out of...out of here..."

He tried to sit up, but his body was not responding in a reassuring manner. He found himself able to use the seat in order to rise to a sitting position. Any further movement was unspeakable in his condition.

Ares turned to look at him from another seat. "You walked yourself right into this," the halfling taunted. "If Orion wasn't off on a walk, we would be cashing you in right now."

The full-blooded saiyan's face contorted into a scowl. He lurched forward to grasp at Ares and toppled over Zena, while the halfling smirked at him.

"Save it, kid. You're no threat to me like that," he chided.

Kaden pulled Dimitri back up to a full-sit, while sliding Zena over to the other side of the backseat. He was in the trunk of the car, where hot desert air was filtering into the car in transparent tendrils.

"Just rest up, Dimitri. You'll do more good to us healthy," Kaden said coolly.

The saiyan sighed and looked around him. Zena was in a cold-sweat and looked comatose beside him. As light filtered onto her through the car window, she looked white as paper and sicker than a dog. He was certain at that point that if he could see himself, he wouldn't look any better. Tranquilizers were one Hell of a drug. How someone could jack themselves up on anything like that recreationally was beyond Dimitri. He felt like shit. Every single bone, vein, artery, and nerve ending in his body was throbbing painfully. They screamed in protest to every slight motion. Seldom could he remember such an unpleasant feeling. It was like he had just gotten knocked out and hit by a bus.

"This sucks," he murmured, massaging his wrists which felt like they were numb still. "I don't want to becoming pocket change."

"You won't," Kaden assured. "We've got bigger fish to fry."

Dimitri looked at him with a frown. It was difficult to fry fish without a frying pan.