Disclaimer: I dun own DBZ, nor do I own "Savin' Me" by Nickelback...they were nice enough to sing it, and I was nice enough to use it for no profit!
Chapter Two: On Hands and Knees
'Perhaps it would've been a good idea to wait to come back tomorrow,' thought the scarred human as he found himself backed into a corner in the living room. He had returned to Capsule Corp. in great triumph, wanting to replay all of the game's events to his beautiful blue-haired vixen. Of course, he should've known that his demise had, again, been plotted by the angered woman.
She tapped the fireplace poker against one hand, waiting for the long explanation about agents forgetting to remind the excellent baseball player that their game was, in fact, tonight, and not tomorrow. Yamcha gulped, eying the poker and the woman that weld it.
"Heh, heh, hey babe!"
No answer. Well, if one overlooked the snicker in the kitchen. Yamcha threw a glare towards the flame-haired alien that watched the scene in amusement.
"I didn't know it was chow time! What's for dinner?"
Bulma continued to glare at him, causing him to take another gulp. Brother, he had goofed up this time. Not that dwelling on this would help him. He suddenly began to realize that his life would soon be void, and not even the great Goku himself would be able to save him from a very pissed off Bulma.
Oh yeah, he was dead.
The blue in her eyes took on an intensity that he had only seen few times before. It was almost as though she was trying not to shoot electricity out of them. It was as if she was containing some Earth-shattering powers. He knew this look well. It had scarred him, emotionally, and was about to mark him again. Yamcha shot a "Help me!" look to the three in the kitchen, begging for some means of escape.
Vegeta continued to look amused. Mrs. Briefs kept shoveling more food onto Vegeta's plate. And Mr. Briefs, ever the one to stay out of things, buried his nose deeper into the latest issue of his "Mechanics Weekly" magazine.
"Look, Bulma, I'm sorr-"
"Don't even start! How could you? How dare you forget that we had a date tonight…AGAIN! What the hell is wrong with you Yamcha?" Bulma had long since held the poker at her side, weakly fingering it in an attempt to analyze it's usefulness in the situation.
"What's wrong with ME?" started the man, suddenly angering. "What the hell is wrong with you? You do realize that this is my only way to make money to take you out on a date to begin with!"
"Oh don't come to me with that bull, Yamcha. You and I both know that you still have millions of zenni saved up in that pathetic bank account!"
Yamcha suddenly glared, taking a huge step towards the woman. She held her ground, dangerously narrowing her eyes. The clanks of chopsticks against plates died out. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? Had I known that we had a game today, I would've rescheduled with you-"
"Yeah, and this would've been the fourth time!"
"It's not like I do it on purpose!"
Bulma spun around, tossing the poker on the couch. "I find that hard to believe," she whispered, her back still turned to him. "How can you not know when a game is? And why couldn't you just call me, instead of having Akira do it for you?"
Yamcha guiltily shoved his hands into his jean pockets, vaguely aware that the occupants of the kitchen were still watching the two bickering adults. "Well, he had rushed me to the field. And then there were fans." He winced when he saw her tense up. "There was no way I could've talked to you while trying to escape the crowds."
Bulma felt her anger subside slightly. Disappointment soon followed. "Why am I not surprised," she ground out, walking to the kitchen to take her seat at the table again.
Vegeta's left eyebrow shot up in wonder. Wasn't it painfully clear that her idiotic weakling had forgotten? Couldn't anyone else see through his pathetic lies?
The tall warrior scratched the back of his head, taking only a few steps into the kitchen. "This wasn't exactly why I came here. Tien, Chaotzu, and I are heading to the desert to train for a bit. We all need a bit of peace, relaxation, and definitely some practice to keep from losing our abilities all together. I came back to get Puar. We leave tonight."
He approached the table, standing behind Bulma. Grasping her shoulders, he leaned down to offer a misplaced kiss on the cheek. Bulma only stiffened again, making the tall, scarred warrior sigh in surrender. There would be no forgiveness before he left. It would just have to wait until he got back.
And with these thoughts, he turned and exited the kitchen.
With the last repetition of his one-handed push-ups in sight, Vegeta let out a full-fledged grin. The old man had decided to test the back-up codes for the GR in its main computer, and had opened to door for the Prince to train under 400 times Earth's gravity.
Kakarot, here I come!
The difference between the usual 350 and 400 was painfully evident. He had only reached the max 350 nearly three days ago, and already he was pushing 50 g's more. Sweat oozed from every pore. Every muscle screamed with the effort of the unusual, added pressure. He wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't move anything tomorrow. Not that this was necessarily a good thing. Vegeta kept in mind that the sooner he reached his Super status, the sooner he could perfect it, and, in effect, the sooner he could confront Kakarot. What joy.
Standing upright, he felt the gravity claw at him, trying to pull him down to kiss the floor. With a determined sneer, he powered up slightly, wanting to continue on with his next phase of training: ki-enhancement. The bots readily obeyed his command, taking up their defensive position. Shooting a slightly powerful energy ball at one bot, he watched as the ball bounced between the four bots. He floated easily in the air, slowly, but surely getting used to the thick air of the GR.
The red ki was suddenly flung at him, and he sluggishly dodged it, grasping at his side as the searing heat barely missed wounding him. Agitated, he shot another blast, watching as the bots flung them between one another a bit faster than before. Still on the cool, metal floor of the room, Vegeta watched, anticipating it being thrown at him again.
Soon, it was shot towards him, and his eyes widened as he realized that he was much too spent to dodge it. "No!" he grit out, firing a blast at it in an attempt to shoot it back. He managed to send it back towards the bots, melting and destroying the equipment that had nearly claimed him.
Vegeta blinked as the female computerized voice warned him of a system overload. He muttered a few curses, vaguely wondering why he still had to fend off the energy ball. The brightness in the room grew to an intensity he couldn't stand, and he threw his arms in front of his face, hoping to somehow protect his body from the explosion that was soon to follow.
Debris began to fall from the ceiling, one landing on the head of the unsuspecting Prince, knocking him out cold.
Bulma started when she felt the sudden shakes of the ground. Her usually chipper mother shrieked something about earthquakes, and held on to her husband for her life. All three managed to run towards the back of the dome, where the shakes intensified, and made it just in time to see bright gulps of energy consume the GR. Bulma's eyes widened as she tried to shield them from the overly bright power.
The ground became still, and the light dispersed. Her father's gasp brought her back to the reality that in order for it to blow like that, someone had to have been using it. "Vegeta," she murmured, wondering if his life had been claimed by the metal scraps before her. "Oh no!" Bulma exclaimed, sprinting off to the metal mountain, despite her father's warnings about it still being dangerous.
"He can't be dead," she whispered, tossing anything that she could to the side, or over her shoulder. Oh sure, they had had their spats, threatened each other, flung things (at least from her end), and even nearly-hated each other's very existence. But for him to be dead? She did not wish it to be so. Bulma knew, that deep down, if Vegeta was gone, then life on Earth would be rather unbearable.
And so she pushed on, lifting sheets of metal with her bare hands, ignoring the nicks and cuts that formed. Her only goal was to keep going, to hope to at least save him, if need be. No one deserved to die like this. Not even him. Was he even alive? She had been pulling things, along with her parents, off of the never-ending heap.
Fifteen minutes had already passed. Her father had long since given up ever finding the body. Yes, that was what Vegeta was now labeled as.
A body.
As in dead.
As in, never coming back.
Sure, they could wish him back. But who would? Next to Goku and herself, Bulma knew that not one other soul would lift a finger to find the dragon balls in order to wish back the surly man. He was still their enemy. He still wanted to defeat Goku.
Bulma rocked back on her heels, landing with an 'Oomph!' on her butt in the grass. Her mind began to swim, consumed in her own thoughts about how life had not been fair to pretty much anyone associated with their little band of warriors. Everyone had died at least once!...well, except for Gohan, Chichi, and herself. And now…even their enemy/ally was gone.
A shriek from her mother shook her easily from the all-consuming thoughts. "Nani?" Bulma gaped at the hand that was sticking out from the metal, struggling to find some solid support to grasp. She slowly made her way towards that part of the destroyed GR, stumbling over cylinders and wires that half hazardly suck out. The hand finally found a strong base, and with a flex, pulled out an arm, a shoulder, and finally, its whole upper body.
"Vegeta! You're-you're alive?" Bulma gasped out, watching as he freed himself from the rest of the wreckage.
"Of course I am," he grumbled, his voice wavering as he tried to stand. He fell back unceremoniously, glaring up at the overhang of the GR. Again, he sat up, shaking his head to clear it. Bulma let out a sigh, sinking to her knees in the sharp ground beneath her. Anger flaring, she came to her senses as she surveyed the yard.
"You BAKA! You almost destroyed my house!" she threw her hand behind her, watching as his tired eyes looked to the tall dome in front of him. He tried to stand, only to fall back down.
Bulma winced, realizing that he was pretty much out if it. "You're hurt," she stated, lifting up his upper body to hold it. "I don't need your help. I need to keep training! I'll be fine, human, just let me go!"
"Yeah, ok, everyone knows you're a tough guy. You just need to rest," she smiled down at him, watching as he blinked up in shock at her. His eyes flashed with something for a moment, before returning to the cold, dark pools they had always been. Easily, the Prince shoved her to the side, attempting to stand. "You will not keep me from training. I've got to…keep..goin-"
The Briefs let out a collective gasp as Vegeta limply fell over.
A/N: Well, there's another chapter! Hope y'all liked it. I really do think that the infamous "GR Explosion" scene didn't change much between timelines. And Yamcha leaving to train? Train for what?, you might ask. Well, you'll see.
Thanks to the fantastic reviewers who reviewed and Story Alert-ed this fic! And a VERY special thanks to VeryShortMidget for BETA-ing!!
Till next time...Read and review!
-Pearl3
