DISCLAIMER: This is a (non-profit) fan based parody. DragonBall, DragonBall Z, and DragonBall GT are all owned by Funamation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama. Please support support the official release, but not GT, please. Let that thing die in peace. Oh and DB Evolution. Lost a few brain cells watching the trailer for that one.
The day that was chosen was the day Bulma Briefs had set for her speech, for obvious reasons. Being outside would no doubt be lamented in the reports of her death, reasoned those who played a part in the conspiracy. One bullet was all it would take – then Capsule Corporation, the international titan, corporate conglomerate, would fall.
But they forgot one thing. Or rather...one person.
Click.
The hitman smiled evilly. One for the books, alright. Bulma Briefs, Capsule Corporation head. This would definitely get him some more jobs. He took the photo from the slot it spat out of and placed it in his "memory album," right underneath the photo of the Carean dictator he had finished last week. Suddenly his radio squawked.
"Zero, are you going to sit around all day or are we going to be home before midnight? Come on, get it over with! I'm bored!" The hitman scowled as his irritating partner blabbed on and on about matters of increasing triviality, until finally he growled into the receiver. "Shut the hell up, Carada. Last time you didn't take your time and I had to clean up your mess. Be quiet before I make you history." A childish whine came through the speaker in response, but finally blessed silence reigned.
He took his rifle – a PGM Hécate II – and fitted his custom silencer onto it. Looking through the scope, he grunted in annoyance as he saw that the powerfully built, but short man who was apparently the CEO's bodyguard had moved in the way of his shot, his ridiculous mane of hair obscuring the target. Shifting around, he finally managed to get a clear line of fire. He smiled again.
Click.
How his woman managed to get him to attend, Vegeta never quite figured out. His brain began throwing up error messages when he tried to find the memory of being forced into the ridiculous black suit he was in now. The one thing he managed to remember was his insistence on being by her side as she droned on to the masses. He snorted inwardly. Though the new invention she had made – a hyper-efficient engine that required practically nothing to run and could even repurpose its own exhaust – was far better than anything he had seen during his days as Frieza's lackey, he failed to see how that necessitated a long drawn out speech like the one currently being given.
His dark eyes flashed to his left as a bright star seemed to appear in a window on a high rise. Scowling, he walked over to the other side of his wife, crossing his arms over his chest in such a manner as to block any picture of his wife from that angle. The camera fiends hadn't gotten any smarter, despite the spectacle Vegeta had made of the unfortunate idiot who had tried to sneak a pen camera under her skirt. The prince smirked inwardly at the memory – the poor soul was still recovering from the fractured pelvis, broken ribs, arms, and various other injuries that he had sustained from being forcibly pushed through a subway car wall.
He allowed himself to drift off into thought as the speech wore on, his mind wandering back to times where he and his woman were freer. Now? Since Buu's defeat, the world had been clamoring for quicker ways to rebuild. It was great for business, bad for personal time. Vegeta and Bulma hadn't been in the same bed at the same time for months due to her work schedule. The prince huffed in indignation as he recalled one incident where he had been quite summarily disappointed when he had mentioned the lack of se-
The flash came again. This time it wasn't a camera.
Vegeta smelled an unmistakable odor – combustion – and whipped his hand out as a bullet flew past him. He caught it and grabbed his woman, ignoring her protestations. 'Kakarot, I need you to get Bulma. Someone just tried to kill her.' His mental link with the third class registered shock, then anger so profound it rivaled his own. With a telltale SHHHFT, Kakarot appeared and grabbed Bulma, then disappeared as he raised two fingers to his forehead. Ignoring the gasps of the audience, Vegeta grabbed one of the other Capsule Corporation functionaries by the coat and growled, "Someone just took a potshot at my wife. Get them to shut up so I can end the fool." Shoving the hapless man towards the microphone and leaving him to his fate, Vegeta took off and sped like a maddened hornet to the window where he had seen the flash.
Zero smiled as the bullet arced towards its target. The bodyguard would no doubt be absolutely no help; all he would see would be a flash as the projectile buried itself in flesh –
The man's hand whipped out and caught the bullet. Dark, murderous eyes located him. Eyebrows furrowed in anger so horrifying in its scope, it could swallow the universe.
"SHIT!"
Zero's expletive was well deserved. He dropped his gun into its case and scooted everything into the bag he normally had on jobs. He shouted a warning to Carada. "The short guy is one of those monsters from the Cell Games! Start the car!" A crash in the room he had recently vacated signaled the arrival of said monster. Zero's eyes widened and he ducked into a bathroom, hardly caring that it was the wrong gender. "Stay quiet!" he whispered frantically into his radio. The door shut agonizingly slowly, but quietly. Loud footsteps sounded in the hall. They were slow, unhurried. A voice spoke, one that evoked images of royalty and power, culture and strength – and anger.
"I've killed before. I know you have too. But you don't know how much I've killed. So I'm a monster, am I? To billions...yes I was." Zero's eyes bugged out of his head at the fact that this man/monster/unearthly thing had heard him all that way out there. "Ah...I can smell your fear." A dark chuckle pervaded the air. "I settled here because of that infernal woman you just tried to kill. Infernal, infuriating...wonderful woman. She is my wife." The hitman gulped. Angry monster husband. Perfect. The footsteps stopped. "I'm not from this planet, as you have probably figured out. I've not killed in years. It's an urge that I've been recently more...aware of. I like to hear the tormented screams of my victims as they realize that they have no chance..."
The door to the restroom burst inwards under an enormous impact. Ensconced in a stall, the hapless hitman shook in abject fear as the footsteps came closer. "Know this: you are going to die. There is nothing you can do about this." Crackling sounds came to Zero's ear's. Then a small explosion; then a louder one many floors down. "Your partner isn't going to be waiting anymore," sneered the voice. The footsteps stopped outside Zero's stall. Warmth spread in Zero's pants as he lost bladder control.
"There is one thing you can do to better your situation now. You can tell me what I want to know and die quickly and painlessly - " The stall door exploded in a cloud of dust to reveal a short man in a business suit, hair afire with energy, lightning crackling about him...and his eyes...something savage, barely contained, lurked behind them. He held two balls of fire in his hands.
" – Or you can refuse and die in utter pain such as no human has had the misfortune to experience."
Zero lost control of the rest of his bowels. The devil in front of him grinned malevolently.
After incinerating the corpse of the hitman, Vegeta paused. 'Kakarot, keep her safe. There are others. I'm going after them right now.' The only response he got was a deep sadness and anger simmering across their mental link. 'Have the humans fed what happened to the news yet?' There was a pause as the third-class checked the television – it was a miracle of argument that had gotten the contraption into the Son household – and then he replied. 'Yes, but no one's sure what happened. I doubt they think she's dead, though. There is one story about some guy fainting at the podium though.' Vegeta grunted and closed the link. Extending his ki sense, he located the two other hitmen stationed in the city. Both were highly agitated, so their ki signatures stood out hugely from the masses.
Barely two minutes later, he came upon the first hitman. Shouldering the massive Hécate rifle he had picked up from Zero's corpse, he pointed at the man with one gloved finger. "You are going to tell me what I want to know, or you will eat this in one piece." Vegeta waited as the man emptied his clip on his invulnerable skin, then grabbed the man's arm and broke it between two fingers. "Let's try this again. Tell me who hired you." A stream of obscenities trailed from the man's mouth, but no names dropped. Growing angrier, the Saiyan prince lit his hand with a ki blade and set it to the hitman's arm, just above the break. Instantly, the hitman fell silent. "Good. Now tell me who hired you." The man blubbered something about not knowing and Vegeta sneered. "Wrong answer, fool."
Vegeta left the man outside a hospital sans half an arm and one other important part, both of which had been removed before the man would finally tell the prince where they were supposed to rendezvous to get paid. The third hitman was already on the run, but Vegeta cornered him in an alley, having discarded his suit on the way and popping his training outfit capsule open to change. A wardrobe malfunction at the hospital had ensured the demise of the suit. This time the rifle was unboxed, his gloved right hand easily supporting it. A scene similar to what had played out before ensued. Vegeta questioned the man after said man emptied another clip into his chest, ruining the workout shirt. This time, Vegeta used the rifle to extract information. The results were gory, but satisfyingly painful. Finally the man told him who had hired him – a coalition of many of Capsule Corporation's rivals. Again, the man was left outside a hospital, without a foot, two fingers, and a leg broken. Then he took off to finish the bastards who had tried to kill his mate. His anger boiled over, igniting the air behind him in crimson flames as he arced towards the meeting spot. As he approached he slowed, hearing voices. Grinning malevolently, he ignited his ki and tossed a small ball towards the hapless nit who had been appointed to carry the money. He screamed shrilly and dropped the bag he was holding along with the phone. The person on the other end of the line shouted at the bag man, but was met instead by Vegeta. He growled across the line and a stream of obscenities and familial implications flowed from the speaker. Using a ki beam, he shot the unfortunate messenger through the leg. Paying attention to the person on the other end, he hissed, "You are going to die..."
Ernst F. O'Sullivan groaned in frustration. Somehow the hit had been botched. One of his contacts wasn't responding, and there were reports of Bulma disappearing into thin air. More worryingly, she hadn't been seen since the attempted assassination. That had been two days prior. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of whoever was threatening them.
His phone rang. Jumping a bit, he swore, took a breath and calmed himself down before picking up the receiver. A panicked voice shouted from the other line. "Ernst! Help me! He's OHMYGOD HE'S HERE!" Shrieks of pain and several loud crunches floated through the speaker as Ernst listened in horror, unable to put the phone down. A deep, rich voice spoke into the phone. "If you would be so kind as to turn your webcam on…" A dark chuckle left Ernst with no doubts as to what would happen if he didn't. Gulping, he clicked the webcam button.
The sight that greeted him was grisly. One of his co-conspirators (Fred Whracken) was being turned into a human pretzel by a short but evil looking man. "What the hell do you want?!" Ernst demanded, trying to sound in control of the situation. The muscled man on the screen just gave him a malicious smile as he finished tucking Fred's left leg behind his head. Fred gurgled as blood trickled out of his mouth, then went limp. The strange man said, "Do you recall some years ago an incident here in West City, where aliens destroyed the city and laid waste to at least half the Earth?" Ernst wracked his memory, then nodded shakily as he recalled the incident. The Cheshire grin spread wider. "Look at my face." The terrified man scrutinized the avatar of death before him. His eyes threatened to pop out as he realized who he was looking upon. Like the hitman before him, he lost control of his bladder as fear wrapped icy claws around him. "P-p-please d-d-don't k-k-ki-kill me..." he stammered. "D-d-don't do th-that ag-again!" The alien snorted. "I'm not going to kill everyone, idiot. Just you and your fellow scum. That woman you tried to kill earlier? She is my mate. You signed your death warrant the second you ordered that hit. Make your peace with whatever deities you want to. I know where you're going. I've been there before. You're not going to like it." The eyes of the short man flashed turquoise for a second, then he was gone.
Later that day, after her boss had missed several important meetings, Ernst F. O'Sullivan's secretary knocked on her boss's door timidly, fearful of his savage temper. When she got no response, she slowly opened the door. She peeked around the corner and saw her boss apparently asleep at his desk. Tiptoeing over to his desk, she tapped him on the shoulder. A breeze came in through the open window, making papers fly everywhere. She pushed him a bit harder, and he fell bonelessly to the ground. She screamed as it became apparent that he was no longer living.
Ernst F. O'Sullivan never lived to be interrogated by Vegeta. Seconds after the horrifying man left the screen, the aging C.E.O suffered a massive heart attack. Further examination revealed that he had not gone quickly. A cursory investigation of the room showed that the window had been opened from the outside, an impossible feat since there was no ledge yet. Baffled, the police chalked it up to natural causes and it ran several times on the news as one of the great mysteries of the decade.
No one knew the answer behind the strange killings, either. The men who were injured and killed on that day were never heard from or about again. Those few in the conspiracy who were still alive lived the rest of their days in abject terror.
Vegeta relaxed after a day of hard training on a lawn chair, despite its groaning protestations as it struggled to support his weight. He was quite satisfied with his progress as of late. The third class fool Kakarot was slacking off, allowing the prince to catch up. His eased state of mind was interrupted by the sounds of his son playing in the front yard. Unease wormed its way into his calm mind. It was only further worsened when he heard a van screech to a halt out front and rough voices began shouting orders. He heard a snick and his son's ki dropped abruptly as he fell unconscious. A door started to roll closed, but the men inside nearly wet themselves as they heard an animalistic roar from the backyard of Capsule Corporation.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON!" And a streak of fire swarmed their way.
Now they wet their pants.
Thank you Darke Angelus for inspiring me. And kudos to anyone who can spot the reference to another anime in here! PM me if you can! :)