Hey! Me again. Now, we all know I don't own DB, DBZ, or DBGT. If you do think these things, you may sue me. All you will get is a ticket stub for Jurassic III, ¢35, and some lint. You can have my report card to! Make your parents think you are failing pre-algebra! They'll love it! Mine sure didn't.


Bulma shook her head. Yamcha had just walked past with one of the girls he had met at a company party. Bulma shook her head again. When would he learn that she always found out? She sighed. She knew a fight was in order, they had passed the sixth week of them being together (again) yesterday. Yamcha was never faithful for more than a month.
"That baka. I am soooo sick of him!" Bulma sighed and went back to her computer. Finish these calculations, she promised herself, and then deal with Yamcha.
She heard someone walk up behind her. Who on Earth was dumb enough to bother her now? They all knew she hated to be bothered.
"Woman."
Oh, goodie, the High-And-Mighty-Prince was back again. Bulma sighed. She was in no mood for Vegeta and his holier-than-thou attitude. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing shorts and sneakers and covered with bruises and small cuts. His muscular form was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The tiny voice in the back of her head started whispering, as it always did when he showed his face.
You know, he is kind of- she smacked down the thought before it could go on. NotnotnotnotnotNOT! He's an arrogant jerk who won't even call me by my name and tells me how ugly and emotional I am all the time and I can't stand him, I'm just trying to accommodate the new guy on the planet!
Except he isn't the new guy any more, now is he? Face-
Shut up.
"Woman, the gravity room is broken again. Go fix it."
"I'm busy. I'll do it-"
"Now."
"Later."
"NOW."
"LATER."
"NOW!"
But Bulma was firm. She wouldn't even turn around. He thinks he's tough? Not a chance. I'll-
Vegeta decided to take this into his own hands. Literally. Her wrapped one arm around her waist, swung her over his shoulder, grabbed her toolbox with his free hand, and carried her screaming to the busted gravity room. The titanium tiles were falling off the roof. Some circuitry was exposed and hissing, sparks flying. All in all, it was going to take her free time for a while, but wasn't a real big deal. To bad. He should have left it for later.
He smirked smugly. "Now."
"No."
"Yes."
"Not on your life."
Vegeta watched as she closed her eyes and set her chin in firm defiance. He liked that pride. And apart from that, she might be fragile and weak, but whenever the familiar impulse to destroy struck, the sight of her made his blood boil at the thought of anyone harming that spitfire.
So he picked up a screwdriver and popped out the panel in front of her. She opened one eye, wondering what he was up to now. When their eyes met, he found himself lost in an ocean of blue. After a few moments, he wrenched his gaze away.
Bulma blinked as Vegeta began to mutter to himself.
"Red blue or red green?" TZAP. "Ok, red blue then." The light's flickered on. Bulma's jaw dropped.
"Vegeta…you're…fixing…how…what…"
"My, you're articulate today. "
Bulma's jaw slid a little more.
"What?"
"Who are you and what have you done with Vegeta?"
"What?"
"Hello! That is a delicate piece of machinery you are tampering with!"
Vegeta wagged a finger at her mockingly. "No, no, no. Tempering is messing with what is there and in perfect working order. I am repairing damaged equipment. Damaged equipment that must be repaired before I can train again."
When Bulma just stared at him, he went back to the wires. "Red blue lights, green…white?" TZAP. "Blue?" The door slid shut and sealed its self. "Red blue lights, green blue door. So white blue…" The console hummed to life. Bulma expected Vegeta to shoo her away and start training again, but instead he began bolting the usable tiles back in place.
"What are you doing?"
Vegeta looked at her. She was wearing a lavender tee shirt and short shorts; her oddly colored hair hung loosely down her back like a waterfall. She had gotten a grease smudge on her cheek sometime during the day. The sun was setting behind her, fiery oranges softening into purples, the clouds drifted lazily through the sky.
Kami, she's beautiful.
Vegeta was staring at her, completely captivated. So Bulma took this chance to study him. She looked at his olive skin, his coal black eyes. Every motion dramatized by bulging muscle. The light played across the sharp angles that smoothed into his face. His widow's peak that tapered into his own, very unique style.
Kami…
"Bulma baby! There you are!"
Bulma and Vegeta ripped themselves away from each other to glare at the idiot who had interrupted them. Yamcha was completely oblivious to the fact that Bulma was furious, couldn't figure out why Vegeta wanted him dead immediately, usually it was more like You-idiot-one-of-these-days-I'll-kill-you-now-get-lost kind of thing, so, he launched right in to his well-prepared speech.
"Sweet heart, I know I'm running late, but I had to help my neighbor move some furniture-"
Vegeta sniffed. "A very feminine neighbor at that."
When they just stared at him he amended his last statement. "Unless, of course, men on this planet wear perfume and lipstick." He grinned malevolently and tapped his cheek pointedly. Bulma looked back at Yamcha, who was hurriedly trying to wipe off the scarlet smudge. She sniffed. Sure enough, the air around her boyfriend was scented faintly of honeysuckle. Ok, Bulma thought, no more Ms. Nice Nymph. You are going down.
"Yes, and I am so glad you moved all that heavy furniture for Shirley. She is such a thin little thing. No muscle at all." She moved in closer, her voice a seductive purr. She caressed his cheek and Yamcha smiled triumphantly at Vegeta, who tried very hard to smother the smug grin that was spreading across his face as Bulma's plan came into focus.
"I, on the other hand, have been working out." Her other hand traced his collar. "I'm no martial artist, but I am strong enough to take care of moving my furniture."
She dug her fingernails into his face, just behind the jawbone where the flesh was soft.
"And I have learned something. There are lots of extremely sensitive spots on the male body. Shall I show you some?" She drove another fingernail into the soft spot between his middle and ring fingers. Blood trickled down his neck as she added more pressure.
"Okay, I told a little fib." She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I am learning martial arts. It just won't do you any good."
She flung out her arm and sent him skittering across the yard. Vegeta counted the skips. "Three, four, five, six, seven, seven and a half, he hit the fence post. Not bad."
Yamcha gaped. They were playing with him! Skipping him across the yard like a stone across a lake!
"Oh, like you can do better!"
Vegeta dragged him back to where Bulma was standing, blood dripping off her nails, and proceded to fling him again. Bulma counted.
"Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven-shoot, can't see him anymore. Oh well, you win." Now very sure that Yamcha was gone, Bulma turned back to Vegeta. "Thanks for playing along. I couldn't have done it without some super back up."
Vegeta looked at her for a moment. Then he flashed that lopsided smirk.
"You have serious potential."
"Huh?"
"You could be a phenomenal fighter. You just need a little training." And he turned to walk away.
"Vegeta…" She drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Would you train me? To…to be a fighter?"
"Why do you want to fight? Just because of that weakling?"
"I hate having to be looked after! I'm sick of being treated like some kind of cheerleader every time our lives are threatened! I'm really sick of being treated like a weak, whimpering girl!"
"You are a girl."
Bulma just looked at him for a moment. "I'm not sure if I should be attempting to punch your lights out or not."
Vegeta laughed and led her into the Gravity Room.
"Where I'm from, females were treated with respect. Or else." He rubbed a small scar on his neck absent-mindedly. "They were fighters, artist, politicians, scientists. Whatever they wanted to be. Because they could and would backup their mouths."
"So all women on you planet could take care of themselves?"
"No." He picked up the phone and smirked. "They could take care of each other."
"Hello?" Bulma, now as confused as you probably are, felt her confusion grow as she recognized the voice on the other end.
"Chi-chi, I need a favor…"


"Owwww!"
Chi-chi sighed. This was going singularly not well. Bulma listened, she did everything to the best of her abilities, but it was those abilities that were the problem. She was getting into great shape, but it was not a fighting shape. Her balance… Chi-chi sighed again. This was going to be a long training session.
Vegeta, on the other hand, was meditating, watching them in his mind's eye. He was glad he had talked Chi-chi into training with Bulma. He was surprised by the extent of Chi-chi's learning, but he was glad she had agreed to do this. If he had tried to train Bulma, she would be a grease spot by now. Physically, she couldn't be any kind of a fighter. So they moved on to manipulating energy. She was much better at that, but still not anywhere near the level she would need to be to-
"What the-"
Chi-chi had thrown an energy blast at Bulma. And Bulma had extended her hands and stopped it. She then proceeded to fling it back at Chi-chi. Without touching it. Vegeta pulled Chi-chi out of the rubble and grinned wolfishly.
"I think we have something to work with." And he walked off.
"Let me guess. You need to make a phone call so some poor sap can come out here and beat up on poor Bulma?"
He flashed a smirk over his shoulder at her. "Something like that. Sap."
Chi-chi snarled.
"Oh, come on. You set yourself up for that one. Now come on, I want to know who he's calling."

Light years away…
"Peazan! Come back here young lady!"
"Lima, I have to go, I'll be right back. You worry to much!"
Lima sighed. She was a slender woman, wearing a white blouse and an ankle length red skirt. Her skin was soft and peachy; her eyes were so black you needed a miner's helmet to peer into their depths. Her spiky black hair hung down her back past her fanny. She radiated maternal tenderness. The woman she was yelling at had none of these qualities.
Peazan was muscular, but still slender. She had dark red hair and coal dark eyes. Her outfit was made out of dragon hide, glittering green in the evening light. Her clothing resembled nothing more than a sports bra, bike shirts, and thigh length heeled boots. Needless to say, there was nothing maternal about her.
Beep! Beep! Beep! "Lima? You there?"
"Huh?"
"Lima! Pick up already! I do not have all day!"
She opened the com-link channel with trembling fingers.
"V-Vegeta?"


Bomb bomb bomb! What will happen next?!? What does Vegeta have in mind?!? How does he know Lima?!? Where's my teddy bear?!? If you want another chapter in this severely less that exciting saga, you will have to encourage me! Actually, I'll probably do it anyway, but I like it when people care.