Dragon Ball if I was Goku

SisterZ

The RV door opened.

A man stepped out, tall, lanky, shaggy hair, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked like he belonged in the shadows.

"Hello, sir!" The stepfather's voice suddenly turned bright, false. "How are you? Chill night, huh?"

Empty words.

The driver ignored the pleasantries entirely. He walked forward and squatted in front of the boy, studying him like livestock.

Face. Body. Height.

He took a drag from his cigarette, then reached out with one hand and grabbed the boy's face, squeezing his cheeks hard enough to leave marks. He blew smoke directly into the boy's face.

No reaction.

Not a flinch. Not a cough. Nothing.

"He's skinny," the man said, standing up and looking at the stepfather. "It won't be full price."

"How much lower?!" The stepfather's voice cracked slightly.

The driver pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and held it out.

The stepfather stared at it. "That's it?! Come on, you gotta—"

He stopped mid-sentence as the driver's expression shifted. Something dangerous flickered in those eyes.

The stepfather took the money.

He shoved the boy forward without another word.

The boy looked up at him. Watched him count the bills. Watched him walk back to the car without looking back.

Not even once.

"Come on, kid," the driver said, opening the RV door wider. "Your new life begins."

The boy turned his head toward the man, then walked forward and climbed into the RV.

Inside, he could see a locked door toward the back. Reinforced. Scratched up.

The driver pushed him toward it and pulled it open.

The boy saw them.

Six other children. Probably around his age. Some sat in silence. Some were crying softly.

"Go sit," the driver ordered.

The boy looked at him, then walked inside and sat next to a little girl covered in bruises, arms, legs, everywhere.

The driver slammed the door shut, and they heard the lock engage.

"Why the fuck did it have to be me?" the driver muttered from the other side. "I didn't break his fucking vase. Fuck."

A pause.

Then: "Should take an advance on my pay."

The door opened again.

The driver reached in and grabbed one of the little girls by the arm, dragging her out.

The door slammed shut again.

The sound of the girl crying was muffled through the walls. Then a sharp sound, a slap, maybe worse.

Then nothing.

Ten minutes of silence.

The other children began to whimper. They squeezed closer together, seeking comfort in proximity.

All except the boy.

He sat perfectly still. Empty eyes staring at nothing.

Finally, the door opened again.