Introduction
Innocence
Sounds of heavy footsteps would reverberate down the staircase as a shot rang out and a thud fell to the hardwood floor of the old mansion. Scraping of the body was tracked through the home and when the door opened, he looked up and the body tumbled down the stairs, landing before him. The lifeless corpse would come to rest in an undignified manner before the slave and the eyes of the woman that came down the stairs grinned as she came down the stairs. Blood started to pool around the body and the wife looked upon her now deceased husband.
The slave looked toward her having no idea what was going on. In her hand she held the smoking pistol and then grabbing the slave's bare hand she would get his fingerprints before again taking it and laying it just out of reach of the shackles that held him. Jenny grinned; her auburn hair brimmed down to the middle of her back, a petite woman with a model's poise and grace, topped with features that looked as if she could have been a makeup model as well. Sapphire eyes would pierce the darkness as she looked upon the ill fated person that would be framed for the crime of the murder of her now late husband.
A cruel smile would twist her lips as she then took the whip in hand as she would near him. Then backing him to a corner, she would force his hand to strike her and in that moment would then lay whip and club to him. "Don't worry slave, pretty soon, you'll have a nice cozy room in the State Penitentiary. Then when my new son is old enough, you will be passed to him as your new Master, while the grieving widow collects the insurance and assures that the property remains in the family forever more."
Black eyes looked up at her, in disbelief, and after his beating, he lowered his head lightly shaking it slowly from side to side. Glazed over with years of ill treatment, the eyes lowered to the now blood-pooled floor. To say otherwise right now would only earn him the muzzle being placed upon him, so instead of arguing back, he would curl up in the corner he was chained in and waited as the Mistress put on a look of desperation and frantically called the emergency services. Once called, she stayed on the phone as she spoke desperately to the operator on the other end.
Minutes later, the scream of the sirens could be heard and soon more footsteps could be heard above and around where he was. For now he sat and waited, but then came the medics all of them urgent upon the body and one looked toward the slave curled within the corner. The man stood up from the body and walked over to him when he spotted the gun. The fresh wounds on the hunched person would indicate a recent beating, perhaps a struggle as he noted one upon Jenny as well. Then seeing the gun, he nodded. "Get the police down here; it's time we get this criminal out of here. Jenny also needs to go in for questioning as well."
Moments after saying that, the slave had his hands bound behind his back in which he cringed at being touched. The officer noted the heavy shiver, the tightening of muscle under his grip and reflexively eased up. Looking around the place, he shook his head as his partner began snapping pictures of the large dark basement. It looked more like a dungeon, with the chains, different torture devices, and more the crime scene on hand. The lower ceilings scraped a tall seven feet and as the officer led the slave up into the light, the Saiyan closed his eyes, his head turned as he turned his head trying to get used to the light. It was then that the cop would place a hand over the eyes for a moment to help ease the lighting upon the pure black gaze. Whatever story the woman had spun, he wondered if he could have even been able to. What he was seeing made a pit open in the bottom of his stomach.
Once out in the daylight the full scope of Vegeta's condition came to light of the officers. The back was a mess of scars, years old to recent, the once stout and trim figure was little more than skin and bone. The heavy steel black collar looked aged yet still given a shine off it. Jeremy would gently lay his hand upon the head, feeling a moist dampness come from the top and the thick matted hair. When he pulled his hand back, he could see the red fluid upon his hand. Blood.
The officer shook his head and then quietly turned back to see where he'd just pulled this person out of. The expression upon the cuffed prisoner spoke only a silent plea, one of just a gentle hand it seemed. Jeremy also noted no sounds coming from the prisoner in his grasp, no struggle. The behavior was more of an abused individual instead of the perpetrator of the crime itself. However, he would have to still take him downtown to book him into the prison. A trial would have to be set and he slowly, sickened by the condition of this man, would read the warrior his rights, perhaps the only rights he'd had in a very long time.