The KidVegeta Anthology/Midnight City

Midnight City was one of the first story concepts I came up with for Things Were Better Then. This story was based off of two things - Destructivedisk's story, A Front, and a (relatively) recent interview where Toriyama stated that Krillin had become a police officer after the defeat of Majin Buu. I thought Krillin as a police officer would be a more interesting version of the Great Saiyaman, and I wanted to portray it in a serious way (not the comedic way he is portrayed in Resurection F, for example). A Front influenced this story in a less direct way; I think the tone of Midnight City, as well as some character development and small references were what came from that influence.







The above pictures show that I had chosen Krillin to be the protagonist for this story from a very early point. That idea never changed. I felt like the ninth song that this story worked well for Krillin. I got an idea (while listening to that song) of him wandering the streets wanting to go on a holiday with Android 18 while dealing with depression and feeling like he was alone amongst the crowds of people moving about him. This image was so visceral to me that I came up with the entire story of Midnight City from it. It was very much like Bonetown Blues in that way. I feel like Krillin and Yamcha are very similar characters by the end of Dragon Ball Z, with their main difference (Krillin being married and a more active member of society) serving only to suppress Krillin's feelings more than Yamcha would. So seeing how the two display similar feelings in very different contexts was fun for me.



The above picture (as well as the two above it), shows the theme color I eventually settled on for this story. Lime green was not originally one of the colors I came up with for Holiday in the list seen in the above picture. That list was formed as I listened to the song; I wrote down the colors that came to me, without thinking about it, as I listened to the song. However, I was unsatisfied with the colors I came up with, as none of them felt right. I listened to "Holiday" a few more times and eventually settled on lime green. That color captured the happiness of the song more accurately than my previous list, and that was the theme color from then on out. I was particularly happy with this theme color, as it contrasted greatly with the dreary grey-black of the city in this story.

Now, the above pictures also show that this was one of the few stories I tried to name early on. Since I considered Yamcha and Krillin to be similar characters and in similar situations in this collection, I considered having both of their stories end in "Blues", which is how "Midnight Blues" and "Downtown Blues" came about. Both of those are nice names, but I ultimately decided that the "Blues" ending was redundant. I would have used one or the other had Bonetown Blues not existed, but alas it did. I actually didn't come up with "Midnight City" as a name until I posted Things Were Better Then on this wiki on February 20, 2015. But once I came up with that name, I knew it was perfect for this story. It remains one of my favorite names for any one-shot in the Things Were Better Then collection.



The above picture shows that this story, along with We'll Never Feel Bad Anymore, was one of the few TWBT one-shots to get a poem for it before I abandoned that idea. The idea for the Dr. Seuss poem was that it highlight the agency problems Krillin is feeling in this story. He feels swallowed up by the city, by his obligations, by his past. He feels like he hasn't gotten anywhere in life, and that is depressing him. He feels an obligation to become a police officer, to become someone he's not in order to do something with his life, as he feels like he hasn't gone anywhere in life so far. That pressure, along with Android 18 wanting Krillin to get a paying job is why he becomes a police officer, and Krillin's struggle throughout this story is trying to figure out if trying to get a legacy is worth the mental misery it puts him through.

I was ready to write this story before I even wrote Glory - or at least I thought I as. I had this one as well as A Soundless Dark listed as "ready to write" from the moment I came up with Things Were Better Then. However, I was not really ready to write it, as I thought. As I completed each TWBT story before it, I worked on the plot for this story. The process was slow and I didn't work on Midnight City often before completing Before Creation Comes Destruction, but I did do some stuff. Mostly, it was research into Krillin's history and the nuances of his personality.

In late February 2015, if I remember correctly, I looked up "Holiday", the ninth song on the Blue Album on weezerpedia (as I did with the other nine songs). The thing that first struck me was the connection to Jack Kerouac in it. The second was the upbeat tone and unbridled happiness coming from going on a "holiday". Melding these two things together, I came up with a lot of the themes for this story, as well as the tone direction and how I wanted to portray Krillin's character growth. The main thing I worked on in the coming months, aside from researching Krillin's canon personality, was researching Kerouac's philosophy and the beat movement, as I was unfamiliar with both, but realized that understanding them was critical for the development of this story.

So around the time Before Creation Comes Destruction was finished, I began to seriously research Kerouac's stuff. I had only briefly looked at it in the months before, but now I had no more time to put off this story. I spent several hours going over his ideas, beliefs, etc, and these greatly influenced Midnight City. I don't remember why exactly it took me so long to write this story - ideally, it should have been released around May 17, 2015, but I had finals that week, so I couldn't focus on this story. So then, I was planning on releasing it on May 24, 2015, as I was finished with school by May 20th. I don't remember why I didn't write it around that time - probably I was celebrating being done with school and was just partying too much to do some serious work. Either way, I only began to work on this story on May 31st. I wanted to finish Things Were Better Then by the end of May, which left me in a bad position, as it meant I had to write two stories in the span of one day - an unheard of amount of time for such complex one-shots. Most of them took me a week minimum to produce, so this was worrying. What it meant was I began to work on this story earlier than I had anticipated - at 2:25 am of May 31st, specifically. I worked from then until 4:59 am on the first section of Midnight City. I wrote the first draft of the first section by 3:45 am and then spent the remainder of that time editing it and making it as perfect as it could be. I returned to this story on the same day at 4:51 pm (almost twelve hours later), and then continued to edit off and on until 8:53 pm (I took many breaks during this span), writing the short second section and editing the entire document. Once I was done, I posted it and then immediately began to work on A Soundless Dark (but more on that on that story's anthology page).

I remember being relatively happy with this story once it was completed. I haven't read it since posting it, so I'm not sure if that will hold up. I do remember thinking this wasn't as good as Suicide Missionary, Before Creation Comes Destruction, or Bonetown Blues, but we'll see if it stacks up against those heavyweights in the below endnotes. Anyways, onto the detailed commentary!

Story
This story's theme is Holiday.

They were on the road by nightfall. Krillin sat in the passenger seat, his hands meekly clasped in his lap, staring out the dirty window at the acute glow of city lights. Officer Carrow drove in silence from light stop to light stop, not saying a word for the first ten or so blocks. There were so many people walking the streets. It was as if, with the sun having gone down, the city had come alive.

“So, you’re the new guy, eh?” said Carrow gruffly, just as the silence was becoming intolerable. He had a raspy tone, as if he had smoked too many cigars as a youth, and his accent was foreign, though familiar. Krillin couldn’t place exactly where it was from.

Krillin gulped. ''Just gotta get through this conversation. Make a friend. Don’t seem weird. I’m a normal guy.'' “Yeah, that’s me!”

“You’re a little old for a recruit, aren’t ya?” Carrow’s malachite eyes narrowed, and his face wrinkled up. He’s old, Krillin thought. ''Looks like he’s been through a lot. Is that how I’ll be in ten years?'' He shuddered.

“Ye-yeah, I guess,” Krillin laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “I-I just thought I needed a career change, y’know? And my wife thought it’d be good for me to get a paying job…”

Officer Carrow scanned the road ahead. “What did you do before?”

“I was a martial artist.”

“Ever win a tournament?”

“Not first place.”

They were quiet for a while. Carrow drank something from a flask; Krillin believed it to be alcohol. Still, he didn’t say a word. If the other officer was an alcoholic, Krillin wasn’t going to tell anyone. And if he was just drinking coffee or juice, there was no need for the former martial artist to make a fool of himself on his first day. A voice from the radio directed Carrow a few blocks ahead, where a man was committing indecent exposure. Krillin jumped out of the car and formed up behind Carrow. Being in a police officer’s suit made him feel powerful, important. He’d gotten a similar feeling the first time he’d taken the stage at the World Martial Arts tournament in Master Roshi’s school attire. Krillin eyed the crowds moving passed him and noted with grim satisfaction that they seemed a bit scared of him; perhaps they were all feeling a little guilty about something. ''They won’t have any idea this is my first day. They think I’ve been a police officer for a while. I’ve got the look already.''

The city stank of old garbage, and even now, in the dead of night, spotted pigeons were rummaging through rotting food in the gutters. Hovercars zoomed by; the traffic lights blinked systematically from one color to the next. The grid was heartless as it was efficient. Krillin looked around and saw imposing skyscrapers on every side of him. It made him feel small. This city sure is lonely, he thought as he watched and felt the sparse crowds moving by. They were like ants, marching off this way and that, not betraying a hint of emotion, of humanity. Graffiti lined the nearest wall, gang signs and poor drawings of King Furry intermingled in a sinewy mess of bright green and brown spray paint. Krillin wondered what all the people in the buildings whose lights were on were doing.

Carrow gave the half-naked man a slap on the wrist and warned him that there were no second chances. The policemen got back into the police hovercar and sped off into the lighted night.

Krillin felt silence creeping on again. Carrow didn’t seem like a man of many words, and that worried Krillin. He had to make a good impression. ''Just say something! You’re not getting anywhere by not saying anything!'' “So, uh, it’s Officer Carrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you done this for very long?” Krillin tried to keep his tone delicate and polite.

Eighteen said as long as I’m polite, they’ll all become my friends. And Krillin was in desperate need of some new friends. Not that his old ones were bad – far from it, really. Goku would always be his best friend. But times had changed. Krillin was no longer a young warrior, ready to defend the Earth from the next wave of crazed aliens or psychotic androids. It’s time I had a normal life with normal friends and normal problems. He stared out the window again. Carrow was speeding, and the lights of the buildings and lightposts blurred together in blues and reds and yellow-greens. Krillin wondered if there was ever a moment the whole city wasn’t lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Been here six months. Probably won’t stay another six.”

“I guess you like to travel, huh?”

Carrow seemed to find that funny, but his expression remained coolly stern. “Heh, you could say that.”

Krillin clenched his fists. It was painful, this conversation, but he had to push through. He had to act normal. He had to act like all the other sad, lonely people out there, for Eighteen’s sake, and for his own. He couldn’t go on as a Z Fighter. It’s way past time I grow up. “What were you before this?”

“A traveler, I guess. A wanderer. Just a guy passing through.”

“Where are you going?” Krillin asked.

Carrow looked back at the smaller man. His eyes were lion’s eyes, his mouth as sharp as a jackal’s. “Where are you going?”

Krillin didn’t know how to respond. “Uh… wherever you’re taking me.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Carrow frowned. “I mean where are you going? You obviously joined the police force to change things up. Why?”

“I told you,” Krillin contended. “My wife wanted me to get a job that pays well. She, uh, likes money.”

“We get shit salaries man. Plus, this work ain’t exactly safe. You could’ve become a businessman or something. Why this?”

Krillin shrugged. “I guess I want to help people.”

Carrow raised an eyebrow. “This is the only way, is it now?”

Krillin grit his teeth. ''He doesn’t understand. I just couldn’t compete with the others anymore. I was dead weight. Useless. I worked all my life to become a great warrior, and I failed.'' “I just want to make a difference.”

The other man snorted.

“What, you don’t think I can?” Krillin asked him, his eyes wide and shimmering, reflecting the city’s artificial luster in them.

“I didn’t say that,” Officer Carrow said. He changed lanes violently. The light ahead flashed green, and the cars around Carrow and Krillin floored it, as if they didn’t care that the two officers were watching them. “Just by existing, you’re making a difference, even if it’s a small one. But if you think you’ll do something important here, think again. You might change someone’s life tonight, you might even save someone, but tomorrow, someone else is gonna need saving, and it’ll be like that for the rest of your days. You’ll never win. There’s always someone else to help, always another crisis, always another crime. You’ll never do anything permanent. You’ll never fix humankind, because we’re all fucked in the head. We’re all broken in some way or another. Things will never be okay. There’s always going to be an endless supply of problems. It’s just the way it is. So what’s the point trying to save anyone? You’re damning them to more suffering, more pain. A harder life, but a life’s a life I guess. And that’s why I’ve figured I may as well keep traveling, keep moving on. Better to see the world than try to change what can’t be changed. Better to live than to think you’re making a living.”

The radio called up again, telling them there were reports of a 10-51 nearby. That means public intoxication, Krillin observed. Hey, I guess all those nights of cramming for my police exam weren’t for nothing after all. It was closing in on midnight; the night was young, the air cool. Wind blew through the streets, sending trash into the air. Pigeons took flight to chase after the bits they deemed food. I’d bet all of Kame Island they can’t eat newspapers.

“All right… Krillin, is it?” Carrow asked. Krillin nodded. “Let’s take this easy. Drunks are wildcards. Never know what you’re going to get. Stay alert, and if he tries anything funny, don’t be afraid to taze him. Stay behind me.”

They got out and approached a man on the sidewalk who was swinging around a half-empty bottle of rum and standing on a cardboard box. The man wore a lime-colored leprechaun hat, thick glasses that would have made even Buddy Holly proud, and his business suit was torn open, revealing a flabby, misshapen belly, though his tie still hung from his neck and seemed to sway like a half-dead tail. He was ranting about something eclectic – something to do with how King Furry was a dancing circus bear who got loose and was now trying to bring down the government from the inside. He was screaming about King Furry’s will being the linchpin of it all, but that made even less sense than the drunk’s first statement. And since King Furry was not, indeed, a bear, but a well-mannered dog, Krillin knew the drunk was just being incoherent.

“Evening,” Carrow said to the man as he walked up to him. “What’s going on here?”

“Look man, I dun’wun any trouble. Imma jussst exercisin’ my free speech!”

Carrow was unphased. He scratched his chin, feeling grey stubble. “Yeah, that’s good of you. My issue isn’t what you’re babbling on about. It’s about what you have in your hand right there.” He pointed at the bottle of rum. “Sir, have you been drinking tonight?”

The man’s eyes widened. Krillin saw the realization flush into his face like a light flicking on. “I…”

“Krillin, give me your handcuffs.”

“No!” the man shouted, taking a step back. “No way man!”

Carrow stepped forward. He looked larger than before, taller, more dominant. His chest puffed out and Krillin saw that he had some large muscles… for a regular human. That made the shorter man feel a sense of relief. For a moment, he had thought he would need to use his own strength to subdue the drunkard. ''I swore not to use my real power. I’m just a regular human like everyone else. I’m no superhero. Those days are in the past. That’s not who I am anymore.''

“Sir, if you try to run, I will be forced to restrain you,” Carrow sighed. “I don’t think any of us want that. Now come on, step over here so I can–”

“Never! You’ll never take me alive, copper!” the man shrieked like a ghost. He jumped back, away from Officer Carrow, and then threw his bottle of rum into the policeman’s face before scampering off into the distance.

“Son of a qwark!” Carrow grunted, feeling broken glass on his face. He wiped away rum and the blood, blinking rapidly and putting his arms out on either side of him to prevent himself from falling over. “Krillin… where’d he go? Huh?!”

“That way,” Krillin said, pointing to his right. For a moment, Krillin wondered why he hadn’t leapt on the man as soon as he had thrown the bottle.

“We’ll let’s go, come on! Don’t freeze up on me now, rookie!”

They ran after him, pushing their way past oblivious bystanders and speeding hovercars. Krillin could sense the man, and he directed Carrow in the right direction every time they lost sight of him. ''There’s no point in me not using my ability to sense people. Besides, Carrow won’t realize I’m even doing it.''

Krillin felt numb as he pursued the man, detached. He felt the wind rushing through his hair. He didn’t know if he felt alive or dead, but he felt something, some deep painful knot in his chest that he realized had always been there, and that he could not turn away from. His ran by people and glimpsed their faces, but he didn’t take anything in. It was all just flashes of light, blank expressions, cold, lorn metal-and-stone buildings. He wanted to throw up. I have to make this work, he told himself in his mind. I have to become normal, no matter how much it hurts.

They followed the man to a bar ensconced in layers of sickly neon lights. Carrow reached the place first and didn’t pause before charging inside. Krillin watched him go. He swallowed and ran forward.

Silver glinted in the midnight streets; a metallic bang echoed and howled and was gone. Then came the cries.

Carrow was on the ground, blood pooling on the cherry wood floor. People were screaming, running from the room like frenzied snappers. Krillin saw a dark-skinned man with a face painted like a clown holding a pistol, its black barrel still smoking. In his other hand was a lit blunt. Behind him, a small group of young men were huddled around a table playing poker and smoking cigars. The drunk with the leprechaun hat was with them, pointing at Krillin. Upon seeing the second officer enter the establishment, all of them got on their feet.

“Whoa, guys, I don’t mean any trouble,” Krillin tried to say in a friendly manner, raising his hands and stepping back. If they shot at him, he’d be forced to deal with them using his real power.

I can’t forget about Carrow, Krillin thought, eying the man on the ground. He wasn’t moving, which was not a good sign. He’d need help fast.

“Let’s beat it!” one of the men shouted.

“Aw, come on man, I’m up 20,000!” another complained.

“Shut up,” said the first man, shoving the other. “Let’s get out of here before more of them come!”

They nodded, grabbed their chips, and ran off into the back room, save for the man with the clown face. He eyed Krillin with his bloodshot eyes and laughed. “Say hello to your friend for me.”

Then, he fired his pistol. Krillin ducked out of the way, behind a bar stool, and when he jumped back up, the pistol-wielding fiend was already running after his friends. I could stop them, but then I’d have to leave Carrow. Krillin grimaced. He ran over to the fallen officer and felt for a pulse. Weak… but it’s there… He picked up the man and dragged him outside.

A hawkish blast of air greeted Krillin as he stumbled out into the city.

“Help, someone!” he shouted. “Call an ambulance!”

Some people stared at him like he was a mannequin in a meat shop. Others continued to walk, not even looking at him. ''Why now? Why me?''

“Come on, can’t you see he’s hurt? He needs to get to the hospital right now!”

Still none of the people did as Krillin asked. The former martial artist let out a groan of displeasure and shouted, “Hey, you know, if it was you who got shot, you’d want someone there to help you!”

The city buzzed on, as if nothing had happened. People walked, cars zoomed, lights flashed. It was so quiet in all the noise. Krillin thought he could hear the heartbeat of the city itself. And it wasn’t something he liked.

“Fine, be that way!”

Krillin conjured up his ki around him and then jumped. It felt strange using his ki again, like riding a bike for the first time in a long time. As he flew, people finally began to pay attention to him, with many of them letting out shouts of surprise and awe and recording him on their phones’ cameras. He left them without looking back.

The sky was dark and uniformly cloudy, like a polished marble. The industrial sector was giving a section of the sky an ominous red glow, but otherwise, it was without color. Krillin flew higher and higher until he reached where the wind was blowing. It was nice being so high, so far removed from the madness of that city. Krillin welcomed the cold.

Carrow began to make some noise, and Krillin realized the man was falling awake. “H-hey, are you okay?” Krillin asked him as they continued onward. The wind whipped them good.

“Hey… where are we going?” Carrow responded weakly.

“I’m taking you to a hospital,” Krillin replied. This is just like in the car, only we’ve swapped places.

Carrow looked around, and his eyes widened in shock. “W-wait… are we flying?!”

“Just be quiet,” Krillin said in a commanding voice. “Save your energy.”

“Am I dreaming?” Carrow asked, but he wasn’t talking to Krillin anymore. His voice was hollow, introspective; he was slipping back into unconsciousness.

Maybe it’d be better if he thought he was.

For a while thereafter, Carrow did not speak; Krillin thought him to have fallen back into unconsciousness. The former martial artist saw the hospital coming up on the far side of the city, and flew even faster towards it. Nearly there.

“I always knew you were a traveler,” Carrow crackled suddenly.

“Huh, what do you mean, Carrow?” Krillin asked, puzzled.

“You’re searching for something, just like me. But you don’t have the courage to find it.”

Krillin’s face flushed, and he felt the winds punish him for that. “You were shot, Carrow. You need to rest. Don’t try to talk.”

“Don’t be like me,” Carrow replied in a feeble voice. “Don’t ignore who you are.”

With that, the man fell back asleep. Krillin touched down outside the hospital. It was quiet here, with only the low hum of street lamps buzzing. Krillin looked around, saw no one, a welcome change from the hysteria of the inner city, and ran into the building.

They put him on traffic ticket duty the next night, and Krillin found it to be dull work. He kept his head down and wrote the tickets, ignored irate drivers and onlookers, and thought about what his life had become. How did I end up here? He wondered that a lot; Krillin struggled to find an answer no matter how hard he racked his brain. I used to be someone.

The monolithic buildings towered over Krillin and made him feel like he was being swallowed whole. The city never slept, never quieted down, never stopped flashing lights. It gave him a headache. He caught a notorious graffiti artist named Kuanfan, and gave the man a ticket. He stopped cars for speeding and gave them tickets. He warned a man who was dangerously close to becoming a public disturbance with his screaming at the moon. It all made Krillin feel empty inside, like he was going through the motions of something that wasn’t a part of him, that he didn’t want to be a part of him.

''Maybe Carrow was right. Maybe I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.'' But what that could be, he did not know. He wanted to protect people, but he couldn’t do it the way Goku could. Krillin balled up a fist and looked up at the cloud-covered sky. ''Sometimes I wish I was a Saiyan too. Then I’d know what to do with my life.'' Whatever Krillin was doing, it wasn’t working. He tried to give a ticket to a woman who had parked illegally, and as he was writing it, she came running out from a nearby restaurant before cursing him out and throwing her lime margarita at him.The city moved on, to a monotonous artificial beat, and Krillin, the little man, was ignored. It was as if his life didn’t matter, as if nothing he did held any consequence. The only thing he could do would be to fall in line and act like everyone else, think like everyone else, be as miserable and fake as everyone else. What’s the point in being normal if this is normal?

Krillin sighed and put down his ticket pad before pulling out his cell phone. He had to get away from it all. He wasn’t cut out to be like everyone else. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for and dialed it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Krillin said.

“Yeah, what is it?” his wife replied. “Why are you calling so late?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking, Eighteen, and I thought, well, what do you think if we take a vacation? Just you and me. Let’s go away for awhile. Get away from the city and all the noise and have some fun.”

“Did you get fired?”

“What?! No! I just need a break.”

Her voice was annoyed, “Krillin, you’ve only been working there a single day.”

Yeah, and I realized it was a mistake. “Look babe, you still have all that zeni from Mr. Satan, right? Can’t we take a few days off? Have a little fun?”

She sighed long and loud. “Fine. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” Krillin replied. “I just know I have to get out of this city.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Krillin sat on the curb and watched all of the people. He felt so alone on that bleak sidewalk, amongst lifeless, colorless scenery. ''Every one of them has their own life, their own goals. And so do I. I’ve gotta be who I want to be, not what they want me to be.'' They were all on a journey, he knew, and so was he. But his journey had stagnated at some turn sometime so far back that he didn’t remember when it had happened. It was time for him to get back on the path and march on with his life. I need a holiday, he thought. ''A long, relaxing holiday. And when I come back, things won’t be how they were.''

Krillin didn’t know if he believed that. But when one is alone in a strange and distant land, there is little to keep one company but a fool’s hope.

Endnotes


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