Dragon Ball Z: Paradise Found

Meeting of the Aces

Yamcha looked around the industrial facility and the machinery that his desert bandit mind could hardly grasp the basic concepts of just doing its usual thing. Whole deceased reptilian titans fell into one rotating hole that emanated with fleshy ripping sounds and something moist being pumped and filtered. Bones stacked in a neat pile ran out a conveyor belt multiple floors lower while heavy stamping hammers picked them up halfway on their journey and subtle, robotic machinery applied strips of processed meat around it.

It wasn't easy making out what the purpose of each machine was, but somehow Yamcha could make out the general idea of this facility, even if the idea of working meat this way seemed silly to him.

"Well, there you are, buddy, the Meat Processing Plant..." a bald-headed alien with large, squirrel-like cheeks and a shriveled lower jaw pointed at the interior of the industrial facility.

"Don't know how this smell and the general vibe of the place can get you into the right mood, man..." a red-skinned alien with purple spots over the visible areas of his body shook his hand in front of where his nostrils were.

Even if Yamcha had overcome his manic terror of all things female, he still hesitated approaching a Saiyan lady in an apron of white plastic over her standard-issue Saiyan armor of rather thick and large bones and a handful of moles decorating her face. While her Ki didn't knock Yamcha out of the park, she still looked like a mean-spirited lady who could whack an annoying gnat with one of those meat bones rolling around the belts she watched over.

"Say, ma-am, you wouldn't know a Gine, by any chance, would you?" Yamcha scratched his cheek while laughing the matter of him getting into this chunky woman's business off.

"Say WHA?" the woman turned around with a raspy, masculine voice. Yamcha's aloof attitude turned to frightful awkwardness.

"I'm looking for a Gine. She might have worked here some time ago. Who knows, maybe she's still working here?" Yamcha scratched his head as if attempting to excuse him interrupting the woman's work. Somewhere deeper in his mind, the martial artist thought to himself if the woman offering him her full attention was even necessary as he wasn't the one distracting her from work. She turned a full 180 at him all by herself when she could have either just answered him with information or told him off without getting all into it.

"I might know a thing or two. There are a lot of gals working here 'cause it's an attractive way of making yourself useful. One of a few ways that a Saiyan can make herself useful to the army." The raspy, chunky meat-processing lady answered after returning to her work examining the exiting line of the product before it fell into storage units and shut with an armored seal that looked almost like a link belt rolling onto the storage container to seal it.

"So, do you know something or not?" Yamcha squinted, wondering if he was wasting his time and if he should ask around someone else.

"I dunno. Maybe I could remember a thing or two over some pleasant stretch of time. A dinner, maybe an evening or something?" the large lady turned around and wrapped her arms around Yamcha, lifting him clean off the air as his wide eyes shook in an error that spanned his entire, twitching body while this titanic woman attempted to drown him inside of her hugging chest.

The first thing of some sense that reached Yamcha's inputs was the sight of the other aliens talking to one another, pointing their fingers vaguely in his direction. There was a cruel realization that he was making a fool of himself by letting this woman just fondle and manhandle him like this though this couldn't have been helped–Bardock's wife needed some rescuing and Yamcha wanted trouble with the Frieza Army about as little as Chayote did.

A sharp, electric noise filled Yamcha's ears, getting them ringing and making the martial artist twitch his head in reaction to the noise while the bright light preceding it blinded his eyes for a blink. The chunky woman fell flat on her back without a sign of life. Cold sweat ran down Yamcha's face as he stared at a blank expression on the large woman's face.