Dancing with the Devil
(formerly EOC's Halloween Challenge)
00/10/22 - 00/10/30
Sex!
lots of it, bad words and blood gore. You've been formally warned
Side note: This is the same piece (though changed slightly) submitted to EOC's Halloween Challenge 2000. It was the recipient of first place.
Revised 00/12/02, and posted to on 07/01/19
Softly the Regen tank bubbled, illuminating the room with its pale turquoise glow. The portable generator along aside it hummed slowly, pumping energy to the mechanical marvel. The nutrient filled tank clicked and whirled as it recycled the bloodied liquids in a desperate attempt to heal.
Hanging limp like a mauled and disfigured puppet, the Saiyajin no Ouji dangled. His limbs had been smashed beyond recognition, four of his ribs poked through his abdomen like bony fingers; one eye was crusted shut with blood even the healing waters couldn't remove. Angry red scorch marks marred every spot of tanned flesh in a gruesome portrait. Skin hung in ragged flaps waving solemnly in the soft current. Few of his internal organs were still intact, the rest floated with vague constants in the destroyed body cavity.
Like hell-sent demons shadows watched from the darkness, their eyes the candles placed for light. Each snap of the burning wick and sputter of flames was the chatter of anticipated death. Together they waited to snatch the soul and rip it from the crushed body, bringing it to hell for judgement.
Trembling, the Capsule Corporation Queen sat in the floor cross-legged. She rocked back and forth rhythmically, watching the space with mascara smeared eyes. The black shadows under her eyes darkened by the ruined make-up made the desperation in her face sharp and haunting. Her soft lips were now dried, imprints of constant gnawing and picking, the beautiful blue mane was grimy and ratted as the thick grease reflected in the candle light. She pulled the tattered remains of a thick, dark, army-issue watch cap down lower over her ears. Her small hands were pushed hastily into fingerless gloves, which did nothing to keep out the cold. The long sniper's jacket she wore was spayed out around her, the temperature was a distance discomfort in her decaying mind as was the blood encrusted wound in her abdomen.
In a far dust inhabited corner, lay the smashed remains of a watch; it used to beep every hour on the hour. The plexi-glass faceplate had been removed and used as a means of failed escape. The wristband was smeared with dried blood and oil. Both of the metal hands had stopped at the 12 in darkened remembrance of its death.
Off behind the overshadowing demeanor of the Brief's estate sat a small simple white rectangular building. Its two stories consisted of a lab/invention graveyard and a simple yet luxurious apartment suite. With music blaring through speakers inset in the walls Bulma Briefs sung while she tightened the bolts on a new training robot for her guest.
Like a virgin
Touched for the very first time
Like a virgin
When your heart beats
Next to mine
She turned the music louder to ward of the sudden feelings of ill fate and general displeasure. Something seemed off tonight, electricity danced in the air draped in dark purpose. Whatever it was that darkened her doorstep she was sure would vanish if ignored.
Gonna give you all my love, boy
My fear is fading fast
Been saving it all for you
'Cause onl...
The upbeat 80's music suddenly stopped, filling the room with silence and darkness as the power died. "Not funny Vegeta! Put it back on!" She yelled, her mood too bright to be squashed by the moronic alien prince. She waited yet heard no sign of the usually loud guest. In the darkness, she rolled out from under the robot and felt along the floor for the flashlight she occasionally used. Her fingers grasped the cold cylinder and flicked the on switch. A dying beam of light barely illuminated the floor ahead of her.
Slowly, she picked her way around, trying not to trip and impale herself on anything sharp. She tended to leave things of such a manner lying around on the concrete floors. The beam quivered and died, leaving the scientist to find her own way through the maze of darkness to the door. The tender palms of her hands brushed lightly against the wall as she used it to lead her to safety. In a painful crash of chains and human flesh, Bulma's shoulder coiled with the hydraulic hook that slid from one side of the room to another on tracks in the ceiling. Clutching her bruised arm she struggled once again to reach the door.
With a yelp of joy, Bulma found the door handle, it rested cool in her sweaty palm. Her deft fingers punched in the key code for the security system to open the door. She waited, no change occurred, the door stood stubbornly closed. "Vegeta! Let me out! I swear that the longer you keep me in here the longer you go without a gravity machine upgrade, or better yet DINNER!!" No response from the alien royalty. Bulma hissed with indignation, this was the last straw; she was sick of it all, being dragged from her bed at ungodly hours, cooking & cleaning incessantly after hurricane Vegeta and most of all his attitude towards her. "What a wonderfully fucked up way to spend Halloween!" She snorted to the darkness.
She hardened her hands into fists and pounded on the door "Dammit, Vegeta! You fucking, arrogant asshole! Let me out of his this god-damned minute or I swear I will find some way to blast your worthless ass to hell so you can rot with Frieza!" Vegeta didn't answer, although nature did. In pathetic fallacy soft pellets of rain spattering upon high placed windows, whispering through the air. The sky had become considerably darker in the last hour, even though it was barely five in the afternoon; blackened thunder clouds blotted out the sun and all traces of natural light.
Bulma cursed herself for including a security system in her lab, with the power out she was stuck tight in the building with no chance of escape. Her fingers snapped in the darkness, the security system was supposed to run on its own power source, why had it gone out with the lights? The concept suddenly occurred to her, the security system was incapable of loosing its power source, unless it'd be deliberately tampered with. A soft gasp filled the darkness as the suddenly diminished woman sank down to the floor searching for a weapon and hiding place.
Inside the sphere-like training facilities, the Saiyajin no Ouji turned the gravity up another notch. The flashing indicator blinked 501 like an eerie, all-seeing eye. He started out simple letting his body adjust to the new level, first it was simple sets of jabs followed by crosses until the pattern became a blur of hand and foot attacks accompanied by simple ki handling techniques.
Since dawn he'd trained ruthlessly, pausing barely for breakfast and lunch. He'd cast a surveying eye out the window some time ago taking note of the gathering cloud mass and catching the scent of soon to fall rain. The prince returned to his training, beginning to levitate, testing out the muscle strain the added pressure caused. The first splatters of heaven sent water blurring down the only window to the outside.
Outside, dressed in black combat fatigues, an armed troop of six mercenaries circled the room. The leader moved his fingers in signals and one man stepped forward pulling open a panel on the gravity room wall. He methodically began to snip the security wires, then moved on to the safety controls. As he shoved the panel back into place he dashed away from the pod, diving for cover with his comrads. The training pod began to hum and hiss and an overload of power began to surge through the machine. The excess energy jumpstarted the preset controls and pushed the gravity limit, 513, 556, 586...
Vegeta who'd been hovering in the air was roughly face slammed into the ground; the blood gushed from his nose as he strived to move. Beyond thought, he was incapable of simple life sustaining movements. A frantic beeping began to grow steadily louder until it became a monotone screech. In a rush of heat and flames the gravity room imploded sending Vegeta to death's doorstep.
Quivering in her hiding place, socket wrench in hand, Bulma felt the world shake, bottles and light unanchored objects clinked and crashed, sending fumes and dust to the air. She tucked her head between her legs and held her breath. The piercing squeal of the metal of the door filled the air as the titanium-reinforced door gave way. She pressed her ears harder to drown out the sound of footsteps entering her sanctuary.
The overhead lights flickered on and her laboratory hummed to life. Bulma shuttered and shivered, remembering all the times Yamacha had attempted to teach her self-defense, each attempt only ended in them making out on the floor of the training compound, she had never let it go farther then that. If she'd learned anything from his teachings it was how to keep a man down.
It was as if they knew in advance where she was cowering in fear. It should have been impossible, the reinforced walls were lined with special linings that no scanner, even scouters, could not penetrate. Bulma kept her eyes covered hoping that this nightmare would fade for her to find she'd fallen asleep while working. She had no such luck. Dark gloved hands reached in after her, latching on to her body like a thousand worms all fighting to get a hold of her. The terrified woman slid easily out from under a blanketed work bench.
She kicked and screamed, bite and tore at her captors to escape their iron grips. Fingers like freshly sharpened daggers bit deeper into her skin to hold her held. Bulma began to work at raising her ki, hoping to catch the attention of Vegeta, or possibly Goku. She fought back violently with words and flailing legs. "You god damned mother fucking whores, let me the hell go! I swear I'll rip your bloody piggish entrails out one by one and stuff them down your shit filled throats when I get free!"
"Tie the bitch up" one snorted, hissing at his men while glaring at the little witch from behind his mask of dark grease paint. The others nodded, four of them dragged the struggling woman to the floor while two pinned her down the others bound her hands, elbows, knees and ankles. One shorter commando manipulated the controls and the hydraulic hook slid to a stop over Bulma. The commandos lifted and hung her upon the hook, grinning through their grease paint as she was hoisted into the air.
"What the fuck do you want with me, you disturbed bastards!" The hook swung slightly as she wiggled in her bonds. "With you? Nothing, we are above sluts and whores." The leader jabbed at her pride, "We had come for that creature you keep hidden, Vegeta no Ouji." He smiled, flashing a perfect smile with delicately pointed canines to her. "You can take the little Bastard if that's all you here for. He's nothing but trouble and bad karma!" Bulma stopped her twisting and cocked her head to one side. "Then take him we shall. He will be ours no matter what your position on him is.
The black grease paint was becoming glossy under the hot bright fluorescent lights of the room. Sweat was dribbling from any available cracks in the paint and falling in slow trickling streams down the leader's face. He seemed suddenly uncomfortable in the glaring brightness, as if he had something to hide. "Out! All of you! Search for the Ouji and bring his sorry ass back here alive. I want to watch him wither and squeal in pain before my eyes!" He barked the orders with an almost feverish tone, which became almost loving when he spoke of torture.
Bulma's wrists and arms stung, the ropes they'd used were unusually coarse and unpleasant. Slowly, she began to try and work herself loose. The cords scratched and began to draw warm blood. It slid down her hands and to the tips of her fingers where it took a devastating nine foot drop to the cement floor. The man watched the droplets splatter the ground, "You'll never get yourself free that way, you're doing nothing more the cutting yourself up." She hissed at him and struggled furiously, letting more crimson rain free-fall to the floor.
"Sir! We've found him sir." Four of the five men entered dragging Vegeta along with them. His head lolled to one side in unconsciousness. Gashes covered his body and his face. The mastermind stepped towards a table and in one quick sweeping motion pushed everything off to crash upon the floor. The prisoner cringed as her precious work slammed into the concrete by the hand of the enemy combined with gravity. They layed the unconscious man on the table and set to securing him there with the same rope that held the woman. In his sleep, he groaned and clenched his teeth together. The last man trailed behind slightly his hands clutched dripping objects which left a trail from the door.
"What have you brought me, soldier?" The soldier saluted then bowed, "Sir, remains sir!" "Show them to me" He face seemed to lighten with glee. The soldier layed out his possessions on the ground with a disturbing smile plastered on his taunting face. Bulma's eyes roamed over the objects, the bile rushing up her throat. There was a waxen severed hand, the blood pooling around the stump of an elbow. The appendage was decorated with slim golden bracelets and rings, all glinting merrily in the light. Next she viewed an ear, a single tear drop earring hanging for the lobe seemingly glowing in the pool of crimson. Aside the ear and arm was a pair of crushed glasses, ocular fluid covered the inwards pointed glass. Impaled on one glass dagger was a blue eyeball. The semi-transparent fluid was still dripping adding itself to the pool around the other objects.
...Otousan...Okasan...
The bile became too much for her and Bulma's stomach heaved. It came up in a maddening rush, bits and pieces of undigested food brushed against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. The feeling of physical substance being regurgitated in her mouth made the heaving increase its pace. It fell to the ground with sickening aftersounds and smells.
The leader turned away in disgust from the steaming pile of Bulma's stomach contents. "Clean that up." He gestured to a soldier, who without flinching pulled off his utility vest and sweater underneath. His facial features locked in a monotonous look of dispassion began to clean the mess with his shirt. With all the nauseating pile gone the man took his shirt to a corner. It dropped to the floor with a splat followed by a burning match. The soaked clothing leapt into flames, giving off darkened smoke. Another soldier stood by with the fire extinguisher waiting for the shirt to disintegrate.
With both piles of bodily waste taken care of all the subordinates were ordered out to the grounds to survey for hostiles. "Who are you?" Bulma mumbled out, trying to avoid tasting the flavor in her mouth. "I am none of your business, Ms. Briefs. You know all you need to know." She bucked her legs ahead of her swinging on the hook. Her feet came within inches of his face before he ducked to avoid the blow. He caught her ankles in one hand holding her in an almost completely horizontal position. "Now that wasn't polite. I thought you were one of the social elites, Ms Briefs. I expected far more from you then this. Although if it's more information you want I can give it to you...for a price of course." His tone seemed taunting, like some disturbing version of twisted situational irony.
"What price do you demand?" She pulled on her poker face hoping to bluff the information and her freedom out of him. He cracked his knuckles and pulled her computer chair to him into which he sat. "I want you to join me. Your brilliance and mine would be invincible." Bulma narrowed her blue eyes, "What is it you want me to join, Mr...mr.." "Mr. Ble Dia Ble. I want to rid this world of pathetic creatures like Vegeta." The capsule corporation queen wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Never!" In contempt, she spit at him, watching with satisfaction as her spittle crashed on his nose.
"You disgusting bitch, I should have known better then to ask you to join a cause so far above your understanding." He sneered as he pulled out his gun from his shoulder hoister. The Colt .45 gleamed in the light as the barrel started at Bulma's forehead. The safety clicked off, making the appearance of the weapon that much more menacing. "Though I suppose I can always get something useful out of this I suppose." He grabbed the remaining rope and began to loop one end trough the bonds at her ankles. He tied the knot securely and threaded the other end to a set of steel shelves bolted to the walls. Now Bulma was completely horizontal, her torso held by the hook and her legs strung up by the shelves. "You bastard." she hissed at him, unable to look up due to the strain on her neck "I hope you rot in hell, you asshole!" He grinned, "Been there, done that! Now be a good little whore and do what I tell you or.." she could feel the gun pressing harder into her head.
The gun left her head for a moment as he turned to lower the hook, still her nose was no more then three feet from the floor. It slowly dawned on her...his name...Dia Ble...Diable. Diable was French for Devil. This all seemed almost too coincidental, Halloween, the Devil, a break in. Something else was at work here this night. The feeling she'd felt earlier was back, it now thumped heavily in her breast, it was the pounding of her fate, birthing itself into her world.
She watched with her head pulled down by gravity as the rolling feet of her chair fell into view. The bile was churning again in the pit of her stomach, threatening to burst forth in a slime of vile body liquids hastily mixed together by the sudden movement she'd been subjected to. The maniacal laughter of her captor created goosebumps on her exposed skin, something about the throaty voicing of his deranged humour frightened her to no end. The chair rolled closer to her as she was now inches from the top of his knees.
Bulma began to tremble as he felt him begin to run his fingers through her hair, "So beautiful..." he whispered in her ear, "Can't let something like you go to waste, now can I?" She could feel his lips brush against her temple, his breath teasing her skin. He slipped a hand under her chin and pulled her eyes up to face his. "You have such beautiful eyes," he kissed them softly, "and such lovely lips." He pressed his to hers, "so soft and silky. They taste wonderful. Does the rest of you taste this good?" He questioned softly to her closed eyes. Bulma refused to open her eyes, hearing the rustling of clothing, 'oh god no' she though to herself. "Look at me!" he demanded, her eyes refused to open, "look at me!" Her eyes seemed to open themselves.
At first sight she was captivated, the grease paint had been rubbed off. His hair was sandy blond with flecks of platinum; dark cerulean blue eyes rimmed with emerald green watched her. He was in all aspects beautiful, the well-chiselled face, the soft contours of his lips and nose. It seemed that everything she found attracted in a man had found its was to his face. Bulma forced herself to look away.
She was the prisoner and he the captor, there was no escape from his prison. Perhaps the ropes could be broken, although the gaze he held her with would never be. Again he pressed his lips to her, harder this time. She clenched her teeth, refusing him entry. His hand snaked up and pressed the soft points where her jaw met, his entry was granted. His tongue pushed itself past her own, touching every place it could reach. His tongue swirled around hers, driving to edge of insanity and back. She tried to gather the strength the push him out. He was too strong and held too much knowledge of how to get what he wanted. Diable pulled back, leaving Bulma gasping for breath, "I want you to kiss me like that." He cocked the gun and pressed it against her temple, "understand?"
The prisoner could do nothing but nod. Compelled by fear, she turned her head up to do as he asked. He pulled back, "Not there" he leaned back in the chair and unzipped his pants freeing himself. "Here." His manhood lay limp on the fabric of his pants. "Do it and don't fail" Bulma reflected as she looked at him deciding how to approach this disgusting version of bondage. She leaned her head down, a fraction of an inch to short to reach. So she settled for something different. Still shaking she began to blow softly on the member, watching as it slowly began to harden, though not rise.
Suddenly she felt his hand on the back of her neck pushing her to take him inside her mouth. "I...I can't reach." she mumbled. "Well you'd better learn to. Your performance here depends upon your fate. Don't disappoint me." She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. Bulma stretched out her tongue as far as she could, the tip barely brushed his soft skin. Instantly she received a reaction. As if it was a snake it shot up dancing to the tune of her warm breath. Again he pushed her head harder, shifting so he could lean back and enjoy the show. "Now!" He barked as he forced open her mouth and shoved himself inside.
She was frightened, she'd never performed oral sex before. Her tongue kept darting back into her mouth each time the tip touched him. "Get the fuck going!" He hissed pressing the gun harder to her. She got the message this time and began to move herself vertically up and down the shaft, almost enjoying the salty taste of him in her mouth. Under her he began to thrust his hips towards her, shoving himself almost to the point of choking her. His green eyes slid back into his head in a private ecstasy, leaving Bulma to foot the pain and suffering. She could feel him stiffen and ready himself for release in her mouth. The captive fought to pull herself away, the captor had anticipated this and pushed her head down.
The soft yet bitter liquid filled her mouth, making the remembrance of the bile a pleasant memory. Diable held her mouth closed forcing her to swallow the vile mass. It slithered down her throat in a disgusting mass of wriggling micro-organisms. "Again" He demanded, Bulma shook her head and clenched her teeth, once was bad enough. "No..." Diable glared down at her, sweat dripping down his face at a faster pace. "You will do as your told, whore." He cocked the gun and pulled her head up by the roots of her hair. She watched the barrel of the Colt .45 swing a half circle to point at the unconscious Vegeta. "No" She hissed again louder and more defying.
Diable was a man of action, not words as Miss Briefs had first anticipated him to be. The gunshot made no noise, even though the piece itself was without silencer. Air rushed into her lungs as Bulma watched in slow motion. The single bullet sailed sluggishly through the air, time stopped as it entered Vegeta's shoulder. The impact forced blood to spray in the air highlighting the bite-sized tidbits of fleshy skin and organs sent airborne.
In awkward defeat she watched as the Saiyajin no Ouji convulsed on the table his head lolling with the onslaught of new pain. Diable loaded another bullet into the chamber, "Again?" Bulma did nothing but nod her head; he accepted it as an affirmative. With Hell's Leader satisfied, he called his men to return using portable hand-held radios. Bulma watched him carefully whilst freeing the plexiglass faceplate of her watch. The small object was sharp and slippery in her fingers with her own blood. He seemed adequately submerged in recalling his minions. Slowly she manipulated her hands to let her fingers begin to saw through the ropes.
The five men gathered each stripping down to only their pants as they entered the door, they carried their vests in hand and began to assemble in a visible formation before their leader. One man offered him a large silver bottle; the top removed and wispy green steam floated into the air. Diable accepted the object and began to order his men about; one to shut the lights, another to anoint their captive, another to free her legs and move her to the circle, the remainders were to clear away the area around their subject.
The fear rose and made a nest in Bulma's breast, chirping and pounding making it impossible to hear. Her eyes widened when she saw the commandos toss machines and tools away that made Vegeta strain with effort like they were nothing more then paper cutouts. The devil began to pour the steaming green steam to the floor where it floated barely brushing the ground. He circled around Vegeta then around past her, pausing to gather a breast in his mouth and nip at the nipple through the fabric. When a full circle had been drawn he pulled free a knife concealed beneath his pant leg.
With his eyes closed a moment in dark prayer Diable's men position themselves at the cardinal points. They each remove their own daggers from their ankles, all raising the blade to their hearts. Everything began to slow. Diable opened his eyes slowly, his pupils stretched vertically with the green and blue shifting hues to red and gold. The backs of the five men began to ripple and pull on the shoulder blades. Diable blinked his new eyes once and smiled with sharp canines glaring at the world. The simple facial feature seemed to be a catalyst, from the bones of each of the men mucus draped leather wings burst forth. Their entry into this world for its undaunted attention. The devil raised his atheme and growled softly, the sound reverberated in blue waves which on contact cued the newly birthed demons.
Each demon raised their own knives and plunged them to their hearts. The crimson lifesource dribbled down their chests glowing from unearthly light. The orchid color shimmered to a burnished yellow, it formed chains of gold from the demons' hearts to their god. The devil smiled wider as each of the 5 chains sought out the hilt of his dagger. The Devil turned and stalked towards Bulma. Time speed up as the atheme slashed through her clothes without piercing her skin. He cackled with glee as he brought the cold blade to her chest and traced its tip around her areola. "So beautiful..." he hissed in his two-toned baritone voice. He pressed himself up against her body while drawing the image of her body with his knife.
Bulma clenched her teeth and turned her head away avoiding the knife tip. "Oh, don't fret, my Little Beauty, I wouldn't hurt something a wondrous as you," he turned and looked at his comrades, "Or something that gave head as well as you!" He chuckled darkly as he drew his tongue up her cheek. The captive squirmed and fought against his groping hands and the atheme. "Oh come now, be a willing participant. It's so much more fulfilling when you are. Now be a good girl." She squeezed her eyes shut as she hurried to saw through the ropes. Diable's tongue licked over the soft shapes of her lips. It was quick as he gathered her lower lip in his a bit, the blood seeped into her mouth making the bile in her stomach churn again.
The golden slited eyes glared down at her mockingly as he sucked away all the spilt fluids. "What are you planning to do with me?" she broke off his sadistic version of a kiss. "Why don't we wait on that answer after!?" His head fell back and his eyes slid closed as his hands formed fists and he began to tremble. Small white pinpricks of light began to dance up from the green mist. They gathered around the Devil spinning around his form, he trembled harder and fell to his knees. Dark wings sprouted from his back shrouding himself in darkness, save the menacing glow of his demonic eyes.
The sadistic captor stood, the dark wings held high as he advanced towards his captive. No words where exchanged as he gathered Bulma's body and pressed it's nakedness against him. The wings were harbingers of her fate as they closed in around her, shutting out all the light. She tried to scream but an unearthly feeling of lethargy gathered around her, making it impossible to work her body. For an eternity she was denied sight or sound, everything was eternally dark and silent.
Bulma was unsure of how long she'd spend in the dark recluse, but she was suddenly aware of a strange texture under her feet. It was soft and warm, though not quite solid, almost like black silk jell-o. The lethargy was gone but there was still no sounds to be heard. "Over here, my pretty." His voice was an epileptic shock to her system. She spun searching for the origin of his voice. She found him easily, his skin stood out brightly against the black see of the abyss. "Come here" he commanded, and pulled on something in his hand. Bulma stumbled forward, she looked down shocked, a heavy cast iron chain had been affixed to her neck. He tugged again on her leash and she tripped and fell. Eventually she stumbled over to his feet.
Upon closer inspection, she found him sitting in what appeared to be a hot tub of the liquid Jell-o. "Come in won't you?" With another pull she fell headlong into the water. The water was hot against her bare skin, "Where am I?" He only grinned and smiled at her. "This is were I bring those that...please me." He stood to get out of the water. Bulma balked and blinked, Was he that well endowed when..when.. She almost died of surprise, WHAT THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU THINKING BULMA!!! HE IS THE GOD DAMMED DEVIL FOR FUCK'S SAKE! "Now now, don't be ashamed." He smiled down at her, she sat still, her eyes still transfixed upon his manhood. "You can play with that later, though first I have some things to go through with you first." He snapped his fingers and five human like creatures with pale skin appeared. "Now be nice my Little Beauty, they're only here to take measurements."
One hollow-eyed goul stood ahead of the others, his arms were unnaturally long almost brushing his knees. In one hand he held a measuring tape and in the other was a stainless steel clipboard. Bulma whirled around and began to scream the injustices at the Devil, he'd vanished. The four other Gouls pounced on her, pinning her to the ground. The first began to measure her height and other various parts of her anatomy. One of the other Gouls with longer spidery fingers began to let his hand slid itself over to her breasts. Bulma bared her teeth at the creature and gave it her best death glare. It just grinned an empty toothed smile at her.
Suddenly he was standing there, dark grimace over his demonic features. "Get out!" He snorted while grabbing the back of the shredded jacket the goul wore. With a few simple tosses the gouls where gone, each sucked down through the ground with a bubbling hiccup from the earth. When the last of the creatures were gone, she almost allowed herself to sigh. "Get up! We have business to attend to." The devil jerked her to her feet by the chain around her neck and began dragging her farther and farther from the inky pool.
"Please...please...stop you're..ch..cho.choking me.." She gasped out while stumbling over the uneven semi-solid ground. He regarded her with dark eyes and lowered brows, "Here is as good of place as any." He plunged his hand with the chain into the ground, his fist re-emerged empty; the chain was embedded into the ground. Bulma tugged on the chain, hopping to pull it free and run. It held fast, refusing to budge. Slowly he sat his lumbering form down on the malleable earth. He watched her struggle and fight naked with the iron chain around her neck, the fire in his eyes brightened as a plan came to mind. The Devil steeped his fingers, his sensuous lips moved with silent words. When he looked at her again some of the fire in his eyes had dimmed.
"I want you, Bulma-san, and I will have you." He vowed in his two-toned voice. She turned to him and gathered all the spittle she could and sent it airborne. "Never!" He grinned, his canines impossibly bright in the lightless place. "I have always gotten what I've desired, and you, my dear, are no exception." He leaned back and watched her struggle with the chain, becoming slowly aroused by her futile effort to escape. "You disgusting Satyrs! (Male for Nymphomaniac)" The devil smiled wider yet and grabbed hold of the chain, pulling her to her knees.
"Come sit with me." She fell into his lap, his hands around her waist holding her from escaping. He moved slightly so her legs straddled his hips. Bulma struggled and pressed her palms against his chest trying to force herself free. He hissed, as one of her nails dug into his clavicle. He was quick and precise as he leaned forward pinning the helpless human under him. His hands snaked up and snatched hers, pushing them above her head and into the ground, like the chain. He pressed his lips over hers then down her neck and into the clef of her breasts, "You are a pretty one, aren't you?" he murmured to himself. As he suckled on her breast, Bulma fought against the rising interest of his lips. "Relax, you'll enjoy this, I promise." She hissed and bucked her hips at him, to get free. "Getting desperate now, are we?" He smiled as a hand traced its way down her stomach. His mouth nibbled and nipped as he followed his hand downwards. As he came to her lowest extremity he watched her fear filled face.
His first taste of her was shocking almost, a virgin! He hissed in displeasure. His forked tongue slipped in further affirming it discovery. "A fucking VIRGIN? What the hell is this?" He snorted pulling himself off her. "You damned bitch! You god-damned bitch!" He shook his head thinking for an extended pause, "Might as well give you a test run anyways." His body was heavy on hers as he leaned down on her again. He took a breast in each hand as if weighing them momentarily before beginning to bite on one nipple and pinch the other. He soon tired of playing and began to slid himself downwards again. To him the taste of a virgin was a wondrous fruit rarely sampled, though sample was all he was ever capable of with the untouched.
He snapped his fingers and she was sitting up, the chain collar gone. He snorted again at her, baring his fangs. "Now listen to me bitch and listen well. I am eternal; I can wait for eternity. When you give into human temptation and let another man slide himself freely inside of you, I'll be waiting. You will be mine! Now go!"
There was a dark burning sensation throughout her whole body. It was like she'd lived a million lives each branching off from the moment she'd offered the Sayajin no Ouji her home to stay in. Every memory was burned into her mind causing chaotic confusion to the point of insanity. "Wh..wha..why?" She stumbled over her words as she felt herself fall through space. "I just want you to know what you're missing!" The Devil dark cackle shattered the air and the surroundings into sharp cutting pieces of black ice glass. Bulma fell through the cloud of shards for a dark eternity. The bone-shattering thud brought the bile to her mouth again as she landed back in her own body on Chikyuu.
Her vision was blurry as opened her eyes, the five demon creatures lay half on the floor, their bloodied torsos supported by the green circular cloud. Each were still alive, moaning out a vague chant of haunting tenor and baritone voices. The Devil stood above all his fallen minions, bloodied red atheme in hand. He turned and affixed his burning eyes on her. "I'll be waiting, my dear." The knife curved through the air slicing through demon skin, their blood spurting over everything.
He'd gone into some mad rage, she was sure of it. The knife was long ago abandoned to the floor as he began to tear out organs with taloned hand and eat them quickly with sharp slurping sounds. She could hear the flesh tearing in final cries to keep the organs within. The blood was smeared over his entire body; it dribbled in rivulets down his chin as he again wielded the Atheme.
In a final slash, he brought the weapon down upon the saiyajin no ouji's chest. The Ouji screamed with fury as the blade penetrated his body cutting free his heart from him. Diable plunged his hand into the chest cavity and ripped forth the pulsating bloody mass of tissue. The demons fell to the ground from the circular mist, lifeless and twitching.
Diable cackled and turned to face Bulma, his voice duotoned, "The world is mine as are you!" He raised the heart to his lips and drew a gulp of blood. Vegeta's heart pulled the Devil into a feeding frenzy, his hands shredding the Saiyajin no Ouji to get to the plump organs concealed below. The floor began cracked around the boundaries of the circle, red flames began to lick up through the newly formed spider webs. The Devil faced Bulma one last time, "I will be back for you!"
The whole building began to shake and shift on its mountings. The shelves began to fall in crashing defeat. The force of the fall knocked something upon the hook's controls freeing the captive from its grasp. When her feet touched the ground her knees gave out, slamming her brain into sharp biting flames of pain which she shook off and paid no heed. With renewed fervor she continued to saw through the ropes. When the last one fell to the ground Bulma rushed to Vegeta's side looking down aupon him, "Oh Kami, I never meant for anything like this to happened when I wished you where dead." The tears sprang forth and she cried to his chest.
Something fell from the heavens it seemed to Bulma. The small white capsule landed squarely upon the fallen Prince's chest. Her blank expression was reflected in the outer casing for a long moment of silent thanks. She gathered it, quickly pressing the button. The capsule expanded and Bulma hurried as fast as she dared to load Vegeta in. She recapsulated it and took off, sprinting to avoid the falling debris.
She ran for hours through Satan City. It was destroyed, buildings crumbled, some people in shock and fear, while other looted and scavenged the area for supplies for survival. The woman began to feel the blood burning throughout her lungs. She paused, leaning on the remains of a destroyed brick wall. In her moment of silence, she looked out over Satan City, it was just a husk of burnt and blacked buildings and charred bodies.
The Capsule Corps. survivor watched people tread in and out of the broken glass window of a department store. They streamed in and out, arms filled with objects, cash and other ideas for survival. Her mind was made-up, she begrudgingly made her way to the broken window and climbed through, all the while preparing a mental list of items she'd need.
Everything in the store had been ransacked, cash registers had been forced open, and all the jewelry displays had been smashed. Bulma worked her way through the store, first gathering a long black sniper jacket, then a pair of sturdy cargo pants, followed by any computer equipment she could find, finishing with the hunting department. Her pockets were filled with capsules of equipment as she forced her way through the security system into the hunting department. Everything had been left untouched as she began to methodically search for what she needed. Shells and bullets were jammed quickly into pockets, followed by guns into holsters all placed on her body under the coat. She was turning to leave as she spotted a sniper rifle hung in a glass case above the door. Bulma had to have it, she had nobody left to trust but herself. It was simple getting the gun from the case and into her hands. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and prepared to leave.
The attack was sudden and devastating. Her assailant jumped her from behind, grabbing her in a chokehold with the gleaming blade of an Army Special Issue hunting knife pressed against her carotid artery. "I want that gun back, bitch!" The blade pressed up closer. "You can have it." She managed out, with no intentions of repeating the earlier events of that night. The gun was ripped off her shoulder as the attacker shoved her away. The first look Bulma caught of her attacker frightened her. He was a balding middle-aged man in a worn pair of nikes, ripped jeans and a soot-smudged shirt, "Takimodo?" She asked the man. He grunted and glared at her. That man was one of her employees. Takimodo blinked from behind think black rimmed glasses, "Briefs-san?" Bulma nodded her head in earnist. "You damned bitch! I always hated working for your sorry spoiled ass." For a brief coherent moment, she truly believed that Takimodo moved to fast for a man of his girth. The blade was so sharp she never felt it enter her body, nothing until he pulled out the knife. The air stung the wound as the blood began to trickle out of the stab wound.
Takimodo floundered; he'd always fantasized about hurting Miss Briefs, though he'd never imagined taking it that extra step further. Though his glasses, he watched her press a hand over the wound, the blood pushing past her fingers and dribbling down to hand. Takimodo lost it, the soiled weapon fell clanging to the floor as he took off in a run,
Bulma pressed her hand against the wound, feeling the warm spilling of her bodily fluids. The blood hung like degrading spider webs on her fingers when she held it up to her eyes. The wall caught her as she slid down sitting with her hands pressed against her abdomen. Once her hyperventilating had stopped she pulled her shirt up to examine the damage. It was a short incision of 1 1/2 inches, no blood seemed to bubble out if she kept her breathing in check. Under her own scrutinizing eye, she determined that she would survive.
It was an effort to get to her feet and stumble out of the department building. One hand constantly pressed to staunch the blood flow. Outside had slid further into turmoil, fires had now broken out and were slowly moving, burning everything. Broken fire hydrants spewed water, too far to be of any use.
She slowly began to contemplate her next move, she needed someplace safe, to nurse herself and Vegeta back to health. Few places came to mind. Most would have been destroyed in the initial chaos of whatever had occurred to Satan City. Her final choice was plausible, although she would need to navigate through the destroyed remnants. Hours passed and she finally found the abandoned rubble pile of Capsule Corporation's business facility. Bulma began to dig, until her hands were raw and unable to push away anymore debris. People drifted aimlessly through the destroyed streets, some mumbling to themselves, other's clearly trying to get out of the city. Arms akimbo, she began to plot another way into her destination, through the sewers.
The underground tunnels were dank and cold as she trudged through them, taking the appropriate turns and twists until she came to the silver door stenciled 'Capsule Corporation'. It was designed as a bomb shelter and was capable of stand up to anything. The door swung open easily after it'd scanned Bulma's retina. Inside was dark, no lights had been installed, incase of a nuclear war, they're would have been no way to get power. Bulma's hands groped to find the box of candles she'd remembered from her childhood. With the help of a match one candle sparked to life. Nothing had changed in the shelter, everything was as she'd remembered it. Completely sparse, a few pieces of furniture, the bare essentials at best. There were twelve rooms in total excluding the storage spaces, a pantry stocked with enough food for thirteen people for the span of five years, a water supply and air supply equal to seven years of use of a gluttonous man.
Bulma spared no time in clearing out one of the room. She freed the capsule and watched Vegeta float lifelessly the water swirling around him in a disturbing pantomime. She lit candles and placed them around the room, slamming them into holders. She was angry at herself, this was all her fault. Her arm wound up and she slammed a candle into the wall, its wax body crumbling to the floor. The tears began to flow quickly as she pulled off her watch and threw it in her fury against the wall along with its plexi-glass face.
For days, she sat watching Vegeta float. The blood had dried and cracked, the wound becoming infected without proper treatment. Nothing mattered to the despaired scientist. Everything had been taken away from her. Vegeta was her last tie to her smeared past, The green glow was reflected in her haunted eyes, her body quickly began to absorb the color the regen tank gave off. She couldn't live with out it, it was her lifeline to herself.
Outside clouds gathered and unleashed they wrath upon Chikyuu. Perhaps it was in pathetic fallacy that nature imitated Bulma's feelings of loss. The lost soul had given up waiting, every fiber of her being screamed to have the oblivious peace as she watched Vegeta float in day after day. With her body and mind in complete disarray, she stripped herself of her clothing, wincing while she pulled the crusted shirt away from her infected stab wound. In a last murmur of prayer she closed her eyes and climbed in the tank with the lost Ouji.
Outside, hell ascended upon earth, driving away all connections to heaven and the gods. The Devil himself seemed to be leaning back in his chair surveying all his destructive glory. Fires, floods, and natural disasters had ravaged Chikyuu, killing off most of the human population. The Devil with his perfect pointed canines smiled as he inhaled his ascension to the mortal realm. Though heaven in one small part still remained on earth, two people encased together in warm green glow.
La Fin