A/N: Well no one was really taking the polls so I made my own executive decision. :) You don't see much of this pairing, which I find really strange, so why the hell not? I'm not sure if this will be complete darkfic or not because I don't want it to follow the same concept as the Goku/Bra ones I wrote. I like to change things up a bit. I'm probably going to do a really twisted one, too. Not sure. We'll see how this pans out. Yes, this is MARRON, not MARON.

Warnings: None really. Character death?

Pairings: Goku/Marron; otherwise all canon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

-MalRev

Spectre

01

Satan City wasn't my home long enough for me to remember it very well. If I closed my eyes and thought really hard, I could picture some skyscrapers and the huge mansion Miss Videl's father lived in. Sometimes I could see the arena where daddy fought in the last World Martial Art's tournament. Beyond that, I was blind. We moved before I could settle down and make a lot of friends.

The country side zoomed by my window as we drove back towards the city that I hadn't seen in so many years. It was sort of exciting: I'd get to meet our old friends again and see how everyone was doing. But it was terrifying, too. I'd be starting over at a new high school and I'd have to meet new people. That… tended to be sort of difficult for me.

I turned in my seat and huffed impatiently while mom stared dead ahead at the road, unblinking and eerily still. She was what made making friends so hard. Dad blamed it on her programming but I was pretty positive she was your typical overbearing parent. Nothing got by her. She wasn't afraid to screen my friends even if we were going out to the mall or something silly like that.

My father noticed me and beamed brightly. In his eyes, I had no faults.

"You'll love the city, Marron," he said. "You get to hang out with Gohan's kid and Bulma's kid! Wow, I can't believe how old Pan and Bulla must be by now. Aren't they about your age?"

"How should I know?" I snapped. I was getting annoyed. He'd done nothing but try to sell me on moving for the past few months and everything was coming to a head. I didn't want to be set up on play dates. I was fifteen years old, not some stupid little girl.

"I guess you're right. It's been a while since we saw any of them." Dad scratched his head, pushing back the hat over his grey hair. "They both go to the same high school Gohan was in so I'm sure they can help you get fitted in with everyone else. My little social butterfly!"

Oh my god.

Mom snickered to herself. I scowled and picked up my favorite book, Wuthering Heights, to keep me occupied so I'd stop attracting dad's attention. He wasn't even trying to be sarcastic, even though we all knew I was the exact opposite of a "butterfly." I liked friends. I wanted them.

As aforementioned, my mother was a bit too overprotective to let that happen. So when I was sitting home bored, I'd either read or do my homework. It was sort of a vicious cycle. It was how I'd grown up so I was accustomed to it. I knew mom had her reasons for being the way she was and I also knew better than to question her.

We reached the city a while later and our progress slowed dramatically. Mom silently weaved through traffic while dad prattled on about how he couldn't wait to see all his old friends. I wondered how Pan and Bulla had grown up. We were all in high school now. Hopefully they could show me around.

After half an hour of battling traffic, we turned down a quiet street and soon pulled into our driveway. I pushed my bad thoughts and nervousness behind me, hopping out of the car to behold my new home.

It was bigger than our old place: two stories instead of just one. The house was painted blue with white shutters and had a cobblestone walkway that curved through our surprisingly large front yard. There was a white wraparound porch with some rocking chairs, a closed one-car garage, and a couple gaudy lawn decorations to greet us. It was hidden away from the busy city but you could hear the traffic.

My mother leaned on the car and examined the house while dad started unpacking. "Hm. I like it."

"I knew you would!" dad said. "Good thing you've been handling our money from when you beat Mr. Satan all those years ago. I would've spent it all by now."

"Dad, you kind of do. You don't even work."

It didn't make sense for dad to work. Mom was frighteningly good with computers and technology, so she had no problem picking up high-paying jobs. Dad didn't have too many skills that applied to the real world. He'd stay home and watch me while mom worked. She kept tabs on our money, saved a lot, and kept dad from running off with Goku whenever he called the house.

Being around all our old friends would be a welcome change. I wouldn't have to hide the weird parts of my family, like how my parents' roles were reversed. No one would think my mother had a strange name or ask why she never blinked. I could settle into the strange normalcy we had come to.

"Marron," mom said sharply, "don't be rude to your father."

Dad laughed like he always did. "Don't worry about it, babe. Marron's just nervous. Hey, how about I call Chi-Chi and see if Goku's around? We could all have dinner tonight. Maybe Gohan can bring Pan and Videl over, too. I don't know if Bulma would be up for it."

"Just us tonight. I want to adjust." Mom shrugged off the car and handed me my suitcases before taking her own from dad's grasp. "Your friends can visit as frequently as you wish after today."

"Alright!" dad said brightly.

"Marron, unpack your things so you can help me make dinner."

I saluted her dramatically and escaped when she cocked an eyebrow.

The realtor had left the door open for us. I lugged my things inside and set them down on the hardwood floor to see how the house looked on the inside. It was already fully furnished, thanks to mom's foresight, and was strangely modern. Our old house had been just that: old. Now I was surrounded by beautiful oil paintings, small live trees with bright leaves, and weird little clay sculptures.

The stairs were the centerpiece of the main hall, cutting straight through the middle of the house to the second floor. From what I could see, the kitchen was to the left of the stairs and the living room was on the right. It made the inside look much bigger than it was. Impressed, I picked up my suitcases again and headed upstairs to figure out which bedroom was going to be mine.

There was a bathroom directly facing you after you set foot on the second floor. I explored down the right side of the hall, where a gigantic bedroom was, and walked back the other way to find my room was at the opposite end. I passed a few doors on the way; probably a guest bedroom and linen closets.

I nudged open my bedroom door and chucked my suitcases inside. My room was pretty big, too. It was set up just like the rest of the house with some simple decorations I'd probably add to. The walls were painted a mint green and the window was open to let in the spring breeze. A ceiling fan silently circulated the air, whirring when a particularly strong gust blew inside.

My toes curled against the plush tan carpet. Dad had done a good job. He always did when mom insisted on it. It was nice that he cared so much but he seemed like a pushover at times. For one, he didn't want to live near the city—

"Marron!" mom called. "Come downstairs!"

I sighed. I could ruminate later.