Oozaru
Foreword:
*sighs* alright guys I'm going to put on my crown for least consistent fic writer because here I am again with something new. Thanks to the lovely ladies Vegetapsycho and Fleurlicorne over on Twitter (thanks guys) , I've got this itch to write a Black Panther inspired AU. This story will be a short ride, but a fun 'crack fic' none the less. And it is based off of the film and not the comics in the MU, with my own creative licenses as well. So sit back and I hope you enjoy the journey, cause it starts
Right
Now.
oooOOOooo
"Galactic Patrol Unit, over. This is Jaco, badge ID number 12557. Giving an update report on planet 12F in sector 7, over."
Bulma's head, which before now has been lost in calibrating a hover pod control panel, pops up to glance at a screen-less radio to her right. The static taunts her as she waits for a reply from the operator Jaco is speaking to, her bright sapphire eyes bathing in the dark blue hue of her lab.
"This is operator Alpha J7 over to Jaco, over. Galactic Patrol is ready to receive an update of your findings."
Static again, and Bulma finds herself instinctively grabbing it, shaking it between her greased fingers as her teeth grit. "Spit it out, Jaco! This is what we've been waiting on!" She tries to calm her beating heart, but the longer Jaco takes in his reply, the more anxious she feels. He's probably just being dramatic as he always is, withholding information for the theatrics of it all. She's debating contacting him herself and forcing the information out of him, but he did supply her with this radio to stay in the galactic loop, after all. She can at least pay him with her patience.
"It seems planet 12F, called Sadala by its inhabitants, reports that an old relic of theirs was taken. Some sort of ancient, I don't know, 'monkey' mask, as they described it? Didn't sound too important to me, but they were pretty shaken up about it. Destruction to their citadel was minimal, but a few casualties were reported from the explosion, over."
"Copy that. Approximately how many casualties as a result, over?"
"City records indicate about five hundred, over."
"Five hundred?!" Bulma grabs her chest and nearly falls back into her seat. For a moment, her heart aches for all of those poor people that died a merciless death. Five hundred? That means that whoever these monsters are have managed to tally up seven hundred deaths across the galaxy in a week alone. It makes her sick to even properly digest it.
"Okay that number is recorded for our records, over. Galactic patrol will send out a fleet to planet 12F, Sadala, for further investigations, over. Off the record, Jaco, I have to ask, what is it that you think they want? How many more casualties need to happen before they're satisfied?"
Jaco goes quiet for a moment and Bulma catches her breath as she waits for a reply. She hopes he knows. Hopes he can offer some sort of insight into what the hell is wreaking havoc on the galaxy. As to what force is so impenetrable that not even she can detect them. As far as she knows, only planet Vegeta has such luxuries as to being completely off the grid in terms of visibility. And that's because of her knowledge of science and her intelligence. There's no way, she hopes, that someone else can rival her wits. No possible way in hell.
"I…I really don't know Alpha J7. I wish I did, I've been all over this damned galaxy trying to figure it out. This whole monkey mask business really throws me off. You would think if they were regular pirates, they'd just go after jewels and money or what have you, but what an odd relic to blow an entire city up for." He takes a deep sigh and Bulma can imagine him tensing over the controls of his ship, agonizing over this entire mess. She is too, after all. "Whatever it is, I hope that we can put a stop to it before it gets really out of our control. Oh well, I'm off to the next incident, over. Jaco 12557 signing out."
"Roger that, Jaco."
Bulma shuts the radio off and plops back down to her stool, sulking in the weight of the gruesome news. This…this is just one big galactic mess. Just two short weeks ago things had been fine, or as fine as normalcy allows anyways. Life was being lived the way her beloved king Bardock had wanted. What he had fought for. The Saiyans, the Earthlings, the Namekians, even races of aliens she had never heard of before, managed to coexist peacefully on planet Vegeta. The intermingling of cultures dominated by Bulma's highly intelligent brain helped to create a world that was supreme among the cosmos. It's a world she's proud to breathe life into , help sustain. And of course the pleasures of living on the richest planet help tie the bow on what she considers to be a perfect society.
But two weeks ago, she thinks with a heavy anchor in her chest, Bardock had died.
It was time, his oldest son Raditz had said. Bardock was old, even though he didn't look it. Practically pushing the old age of eighty four, much to her surprise. His death was a saddened, yet celebratory time for Planet Vegeta. Their champion, their king, the Great Oozaru had died, but another quickly rose up. One that perfectly intertwines the morality of Bardock's past with the promise of his people's future.
The doors to her laboratory open then, and as if being summoned, a tall, intricately muscular man walks in, his face troubled. She stares at him with a wide smile on her face, despite her tornado of a mood inside. He's wearing the suit, after all, the suit of his father and the kings before him. The proud symbol of the Great Oozaru, the ancient god of the Saiyan race. She's learned to adapt their profound belief in the ape god, seeing more than once the power its' possessor carries. The deep, earthy brown of the muscle hugging suit fits him well, makes him seem like a god.
"Bulma," his lips pout, "I need you to take a look at this suit please. I ripped it again."
"Again?!" She fires back, standing up in her seat to properly face him, "That's the third time this week, Kakarot! You really need to be careful in your training, I'm a scientist not a seamstress." Despite her scolding, she stretches out her hand anyway, prompting him to hand it over.
Kakarot flashes her a goofy grin as he shoves the hood into her hands, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. "I know, I know. Sorry Bulma, I'm just really trying to make sure that I stay at the top of my game, you know? My dad had some pretty big shoes to fill, and I need to make sure that I've earned the right to walk in them."
Earned the right? Of course he's earned the right. Kakarot fought fair and square against his older brother, Raditz, after Bardock passed. It was a tense battle, but Kakarot won. He took on Raditz's testosterone fueled challenge for king and quickly swept him under his feet. He'd more than deserved the throne; after all it is Kakarot who is second handedly responsible for uniting these races together. She had joined him on the long journey, but it is his purity and good nature that won over his allies and his people in the end . It's the only thing giving her peace right now, after all, knowing that in this chaos, she has him to call a king. A friend close enough to be her brother. And most importantly, he is their Great Oozaru and he will protect this galaxy from whatever evils are brewing.
He needs to know.
"Kakarot," she says grimly, setting the mask gently on the table and sighing. "Before you came in, I was listening to Jaco's report on the explosion on Planet Sadala."
Kakarot's face tightens then, the same way it always has when he knows it's time to be serious. Even his voice has gotten deeper as he says, "How bad is it, Bulma?"
She takes a deep breath and fights back the urge to cry. Not now. "There were five hundred casualties from the blast. Five hundred adults and children all slaughtered for some stupid monkey mask. It's deplorable and disgusting. And I don't think they're even close to being finished."
"F-five hundred?" Kakarot takes a step back like he's just been electrocuted and Bulma suspects that she looked the same when she'd heard the news. "This is unacceptable, Bulma. Absolutely unacceptable." His fists tighten at his side and she knows what that means. He's looking for justice for all of these deaths. And it's eating him up inside that he can't figure it out. "How long will it take me to reach Planet Sadala?"
"About a day or two, but there's no point. From what I've gathered, they took that stupid mask and hightailed it out of there. I don't know where they're going or what they want, but I'm afraid for what happens next, Kakarot."
He walks over to her and places a heavy hand on her shoulder, trying to swallow down his frown and give her a reassuring smile. "Don't be. My father protected our people and I swear to you I'll do the same. We'll find them. Either I will or Raditz will, but we'll find them."
"Raditz?" Bulma shoots him a questioning look. The last she'd seen of Raditz, he had tucked his tail between his legs and sulked off, pouting at the loss from his brother. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"He said he'd investigate what's going on. I know he's pretty grumpy about losing, so I thought he'd appreciate the fresh air. Plus it works out for both of us, because at least that means more eyes and ears out there. He took Nappa with him, so I think that'll help us even more."
"Awesome," Bulma's tone drips with sarcasm as she cuts her eyes at him, "A brute and an idiot going to protect galactic peace. I can't think of anyone better." Bulma hates Nappa. She tolerates Raditz, mainly because she grew up with him too and he wasn't always such a brooding asshole, but Nappa is too much like the old king Vegeta. Violent and impatient and loud and crude. She was happy when Bardock dethroned the tyrant, and she was even more happy when King Vegeta took his son and left the planet after his defeat. He left and took his ridiculous violent laws with him, but that didn't mean his ways were lost among his people. Especially when it came to Nappa. She can't imagine what chaos those two were wreaking out there.
"Relax, Bulma, you worry too much. Nappa may be….old fashioned, but Raditz is there to keep him cool."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"I know what you mean but…Raditz just needs to find his own way. Get out from wanting this position so bad and contribute to our people in a different way. Getting off of this planet will be good for him, especially with dad dying like that. And if he just so happens to locate these guys in the meantime, then even better."
Bulma sighs and feels her resolve shrinking under the weight of his words. Leave it to Kakarot to be the voice of reason even when everything else says not to. He's better than her, she can admit. She would have exiled them both as soon as her butt warmed the seat of the throne. But that's why she leaves the politics to the Saiyans, and the sciences to the Briefs. The natural order of things, it seems. "I'll put my trust in you, Kakarot, but I sure hope you're right." She reaches up and squeezes his arm, physically transferring her trust through the layers of his suit down to the bronzed tan of his skin. He gives her a more genuine smile this time, one that he's given her practically her entire life.
"That's my girl. We'll be okay. Thanks to you revitalizing the Dragon Balls for energy instead of wishes, we can at least manage to stay in hiding until we figure something out. Being invisible sure has its perks, doesn't it?"
She supposes he's right about that. She looks behind them to the glass infrastructure in the back of the lab, housing 7 large glowing orbs connected by millions of tiny wires. The wires expand throughout the glass casing and upwards to the throne room, leading out into the main 'heartbeat' of the city. The Dragon Balls were rumored to grant wishes like some sort of genie, and while Bulma personally discovered that to be true, she also realized that their internalized power acted like an intense solar energy. After years of trial and error researches, she managed to revitalize them so that they continuously gave it off, making Planet Vegeta a planet of literal overpowering energy. It's as revolutionary as it is dangerous, so Bulma and her father worked out a way to make Planet Vegeta virtually unnoticeable by any map or scouted. Can't risk it falling into the wrong hands. It gives her some sort of comfort, but her heart can't help but sink as she thinks about the other planets who don't have the same luxury.
The doors to her lab burst open, practically swinging from the hinges. The abrupt sound causes her and Kakarot to whip their heads over at the new occupant, a short Saiyan with spiky hair. He's out of breath and his eyes are wild, and Bulma leaps out of her seat at his frenzied appearance.
"Cabba," she says calmly, fearing the worst news to spill from his thin lips, "What is it?"
"King Kakarot, Ms. Bulma," Cabba's pupils are unsettled as they dart back and forth between them, sweat just beginning to brew around his brow. "We have a problem. We have a really huge problem."
oooOOOooo
No one could've prepared him for this. No one could have possibly told him it would feel this. Fucking. Good.
The large hover craft kisses the ground gently as it makes the final landing. He sits back in the recliner of his seat, waiting patiently to hear the three dings! for permission to disengage the locks on the door. Each ticking second as the ship regulates gravity levels is like a massaging ego boost for him. A defined, plump upper lip curls over a sharpened canine, two grooves at the ends of his mouth rising high to meet his cheeks. How long? How long has it been that he's waited and planned and savored for this moment? It almost isn't fair, the way the cards have aligned themselves in his favor. All this waiting meant strength, meant growth, meant preparation. It meant blood and pain, hell and serenity all weaving themselves into the thread of his pride. Of his purpose. Of his people.
And all leading up to this moment. Such a fucking delicious moment.
The ship finally announces its safety, and he wastes no time in unfastening his seatbelt and smashing buttons to open the damned thing. The early sunlight peaks through the darkness of the ship slowly, and he covers his eyes to avoid the burn of its intense rays. He steps out onto the coppery red sands that squish welcomingly under his boots. Just as he remembers, the color of blood stretches far and wide on the grounds across the seemingly vacant planet. But he knows better.
He raises his wrist to his mouth, quickly flipping the top of a thick silver watch that seems almost too technical for an average person to adorn themselves with. As the lid flips back, he tries to stifle the laughter that swims through his broad chest, but is unable to do so. He can't even talk properly into the thing because his laugh is threatening to burst through his body.
"Good job, you two!" A deep voice that carries a smooth undertone to it, despite the crazed laughter, echoes through the crisp peachy winds like music. He throws his head back and hollers this time, letting out a savagery laugh that makes the sands under his feet quake. "I finally fucking did it!"
"Glad to be of service." A voice rasps back through the watch, a hint of pride sprinkled on top of the words. "It's about time we stopped this foolish peaceful shit. That isn't the core of our people at all."
"Precisely," Another huskier voice promptly follows, a sly chuckle lacing under his tone. "Say what you will about me, but I know what's best. And you're what's best for all of us."
Of course he fucking is. He scans the area meticulously, searching for the specific location. To any average eye, it just appears as a barren wasteland. Like a forgotten planet in the middle of nowhere that could easily be mistaken for Mars. A simplistic fool would step one foot on this planet and convince himself that there's nothing here to be had. But his eye is far from average and he is no fool.
It clicks then, his eyes landing on what he considers to be the exact coordinates. He repeats them into the watch, asking for validation from the two persons on the other end. With their confirmations, one foot begins to lead the other as he makes his way to that specific spot.
It's certainly hot here, far more hot than he remembers. The only sort of protection he gets from the sun is his hair, shooting out from his scalp in an upwards curve like a flame. He's been to many planets now, experienced many climates, but none reign hotter than this one's. It's fitting though. There's something complimentary about hell and blood. Something complimentary, indeed.
A brass ring hangs from a thick chain that swings from his neck as he walks, beginning to slick with the sweat from his skin. Instinctively he reaches up and grabs it, rubbing it against his fingers as the scenery around him distinctly changes. The smile on his face stretches farther as the sands begin to stretch into perfectly aligned cement tiles, and soon the clacking of his boots has replaces the soft singing of the wind. "Well it appears everything has gotten a major upgrade the last time I was here, huh?"
"There's a woman responsible for that," the huskier voice responds, "I doubt you'd even remember her. She was younger than you, but she's smart as hell. Good looking too, if I might add."
"What does she have to do with anything?" He impatiently barks, no interest in additional, opinionated commentary. Multicolored flowers begin to sprout at his side, a garden to the soft lulls of a waterfall that seems miles away. It's amazing, he thinks, how this planet is a utopia of beauty instead of the deserted wasteland it appears to be.
"Well, she literally created the power source of everything you see. The fact that it isn't even noticeable upon first glance is all because of her energy supply. The planet's one gigantic battery."
"Interesting." He makes a mental note to find out more about this woman and her quizzical mind. He can definitely utilize an intelligence like hers, and she would definitely feel honored to work for him. She has no choice, anyways. Not if she plans on living.
The intricately paved roads lead into a much deeper part of the city. Past more houses and villagers than he can remember, and it makes him absolutely sick. They're not even all Saiyans; some of them look like the dinner of his ancestors. They're all talking and mingling with one another, not even bothering to notice his presence. Fools, the lot of them, proving his point about why any other race is inferior to the Saiyans.
His father is probably rolling over in hell, right now.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snarls into his watch, "Namekians, Earthlings living here? And you allowed it!?"
"Wasn't our call, not with Bardock having the say so. But that fucker's dead, finally." The raspy voice speaks, but the huskier voice remains quiet, as if he's not listening to the conversation at all. After a while he chimes in, briskly blurting out, "Are you near the royal grounds?"
He laughs, feeling an immeasurable surge of pleasure course through his veins. The familiar long waterfall, the biggest he'd ever laid his eyes on, sits in front of him. The same stone staircase circles around it to the very top, all the way up the birthright of his father. And the birthright he will reclaim. No matter how he'll go about getting it.
He climbs the stairs patiently, relishing in the beads of water that sprinkle down on him. Each footstep is a chorus of his arrival, a celebration of his name. He chuckles again, soft and low against the beating of water initially until he stretches it out, his voice bellowing like noted from a trumpet. He's a madman; a psychotic looney who is so overwhelmed with power and promise that he feels like he's going to explode. "What's my name!?" He screams into his watch, not stopping his laughter to give a reply before repeating, "What is the proper way to address me!?"
The voices on the other side chuckle in a delightful evil, egging on his pride. "Prince Vegeta," they say almost simultaneously.
"Wrong." Vegeta says, taking one last step up the staircase to the top of the rocky mountain. Just as he's suspected, there's an army of Saiyans and other races alike, their weapons and bodies ready for combat. All of this for him? What a delight. What an honor.
What a homecoming.
"I'm King Vegeta," he says into the watch one last time before staring out into the front of the army lines. Their faces. So angry. So resilient. So territorial and blood thirsty.
It's a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.
Out of seemingly nowhere, he reaches behind him and withdraws a light brown, furry mask, in the likeness of an oversized ape head. He clenches it in his hand and crosses his arm over his chest in a proud salute, an arrogant gleam glossing over his eyes.
"And I'm finally fucking home."
oooOOOooo
A/N:
I really hope you guys enjoy this, because I'm having more fun than I thought. Please leave a review if you do, because of course I'd love to hear what you think. I based this Vegeta Killmonger off of Vegetapsycho's incredibly amazing drawing, which is getting the recognition it totally deserves. Give it a look over at her Tumblr, Twitter, or show some real love by donating to her or buying some really cool art merch from her Redbubble store.
Till next time guys!
