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He's running and running, and he keeps on running but he can't seem to catch up to them. The two super Saiyan in front of the proud Prince were just too fast. It seemed to be impossible that they obtained that speed and raw power. Why could they ascend to the legendary Super Saiyan but not him? He was the one with royal blood. Not those low class warriors, yet somehow they achieved what he could not. It was infuriating. The elite warrior spent his entire life trying to achieve what they somehow obtained accidently without even knowing the honor behind it all. It just wasn't fair. Hadn't life screwed him over enough, now he lucked out on this

Chapter eight: It's like hockey, except it's not. -Recap- Matthew is able to convince everyone that she's a representation of Quebec named Madeline filling for Canada for the moment. Everything remains under control…until Matthew realizes that Gilbert told Elizaveta about her true identity. Now all Matthew wants to do is get some answers from Gilbert and choke him to death, not necessarily in that order… XXX After the little episode in which Matthew had tried to throttle Gilbert (and failed), all nations were called back to the conference room in order to continue the meeting. Before entering the room, Matthew made sure to get t

 Mon Dieu.. my head. I don't even remember getting drunk... Matthew thought groggily, squeezing his eyes even more tightly shut, not wanting to be assaulted by the morning light. He must have passed out quite suddenly, because instead of a mattress or couch cushions beneath him, he felt hard, cold floor, possibly concrete. Where the hell am I..? Slowly he opened his eyes, glancing around the spacious, dark room. Wait.. why was it dark? It should be morning, shouldn't it? The only light came from the top of a tall staircase, a small sliver escaping under a thick, bolted iron door. Where am I..? he thought slowly to himself, shifting slightly

Couple of months had passed since Vegeta took off with the ship and everyone seemed to be enjoying the peace on Earth, everyone except for Bulma. With each passing day she grew more worried for the Saiyan Prince but never understood why. He was arrogant, demanding, hot headed, and never had she ever met anyone so stubborn. And she loved that about him. It was refreshing to deal with someone who was always up for a challenge, Yamcha always caved into her. He never made arguing fun. That dream that she had about the Prince only a few nights ago didn't help much either. She had dreamt that he came back in the middle of the night and invited hims

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Warnings: Cussing A/N: First things first, I was going to wait to post this (polish it up a bit more), but then I realized if I waited, I would have no clue to when I would have the time to actually post it as it is the holidays, and things tend to get a bit chaotic--so you guys are getting it fresh! (Fresh meaning I apologize beforehand for mistakes, of course). Second things second I love you all, and hope you guys have a great holidays, no matter what you are celebrating. To sound a little bit cheesy, when I'm going over wh

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Warnings: Cussing. A/N: AAAAHH! I'm the worst. Sorry guys for not updating sooner. This past month has been insane, and that's a bit of an understatement. On top of that, I feel like my fingers can't put down what my brain wants it too...but anywhooo...I made up for it, hopefully, by making this chapter that much longer--as well as giving you some answers! And as always, thanks to my reviewers, old and new alike, who manage to make me smile and want to keep writing, even when things are batshit crazy. Love ya! Chapter Five:

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Warnings: Cussing. Some adult themes A/N: Big love to my reviewers--seriously, I'm like Tinkerbelle--your clapping powers me! Chapter Six: Dangerous Waters Vegeta stood at the helm of the Saiyan Lady, his hands behind his back, his legs far enough apart to balance on the swaying deck, instinct and long-ago learned skills making him as comfortable on the choppiest of waves as most people were on land. They were halfway between America and Britain, and though he had been through some horrific storms on this route in the past, r

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Warnings: Cussing. A/N: I know I promised to reveal Goku's origins in this chapter, but honestly, this part got away from me, and so it will have to be next chapter where we get some answers. Hopefully this chapter will appease anyone hoping to start a mob riot over my unintentional lie. Love to my reviewers, as usual, and for those of you who were asking, there will be some more characters from the DBZ/DB universe throughout the story. It's more fun that way. Chapter Four: When It Rains... The next morning, Bulma was awak

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Warnings: Cussing (...as usual. I'm sorry--I just like to swear) A/N: The good news is I was able to get this out sooner than I planned--the bad news is I was able to do so while being extremely tired. So sorry if there are (more) mistakes (than usual). And (of course!) thank you to everyone who reviews! You guys are awesome! Chapter Seven: Foolish      Bulma did not generally think herself a fool (in fact, she knew she was usually the complete opposite of a fool, what with her being a genius and all)--but she knew what sh

Summary: America wonders what England thinks of him. One-sided(?)US/UK Edit: Re-uploaded according to some critique. ---- I know what they say about me. I know what everyone is thinking when I stand up in a meeting. I know what everybody says when they think I can't hear. I've noticed. I know they call me fat and stupid. I know nobody pays attention to what I say. Oh, about those meetings. Do you know that I actually prepare for them? Have you noticed that I come with a speech written out and everything? I guess you haven't. You never listen or take notes anyway, so it doesn't matter. Hey, England. What would you say if I told you I