Papercut: The Face Within
By: Cabalistic
Disclaimer: I don't own dbz
(Crap I forgot this the first time. But you guys should know it by now.)
Part One: Nightmares
II
Yes! Vegeta mentally yelled as their space pods landed on the mud ball of the earth. It crashed into the ground, shuddering the pod from the impact. He loved the thrill of knowing how many people would looking in the direction of the crater, eyes full of horror, hearts full of fear. Especially on a planet like Chickyuu, which had already known what a true saiyan onslaught was.
Oh yes. All their worst nightmares were about to come to life.
He burst out of the pod. The crater was huge as usual, exposing the mud from the green earth. It was morning, and the sun was a semi-circle against the sea. A new day. Wet dewdrops clung to the grass he stepped on when he came out of the crater. Even the birds were singing. He had to admit; the earth was a lively place to be, filled with life and harmony, the complete opposite of Vegetasei, the planet of siege and destruction. He breathed in the light air deeply. Yes, he had been away far too long. The peace radiating in the air was absolutely disgusting.
Nappa was standing there, by Radditz's closed pod. He frowned and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the pod. "Bastard fell asleep."
Vegeta rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for this. "Wake him then split up and find the child. Leave the woman to me." Nappa grunted; he never seemed to agree with accepting orders from someone shorter than he was. Of course, he was loyal and obeyed commands without hesitation, but he never liked servicing under a prince younger than him. The prince paused and added for good measure, "And we are not taking any other captives." This voiced complaints from his subordinate.
Vegeta gave him a quick nod and took off into the sky. He hovered in the sky, breathing in the airy taste of grass that he had sorely missed. He messed around with his red scouter for a few minutes until he found the strongest life form.
"A life form of 800," He sneered. Well, it wasn't much of an improvement. Obviously the life form was Kakarot, and when there was Kakarot, the woman was sure to be close by.
"Lie still," said the voice, "it will be quick and painless… if you will it." Bulma whimpered, pushing herself further into the dark corner. The chains on her wrists rattled ominously. She closed her eyes tight and breathed in cold air. She made out an iron door squealing loudly as it opened and closed, scraping against the cold earth. Soft brushing footsteps were made against the stony ground. She felt wetness wash over her eyes and somehow, she could tell even through the darkness that it was blood.
Bulma looked up in the darkness, breathlessly, knowing that a face hovered there in the darkness, a face of evil. Sinisterly, his hand gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look upward directly at him. She could hear the steady sound of his breath. Suddenly he was on her, lifting her effortlessly by the throat. She twisted around, gasping for air. "Did you miss me?" His voice came as a ripple of cold air against her face. She clamped her nails around his wrist and screamed inaudibly for air.
He pushed her against the wall, his lips meeting hers forcefully. She planted her hands widely against the wall and pushed her knees up into his chest, an attempt to push him backward. He laughed in amusement as his hand grasped her hair. She winced and pulled away, only making her scalp burn with the pain. He lifted her hair upward and met her lips again, and she felt his hand snake into her shirt.
Bulma lifted her hands and scratched him across the face. His hand clamped over her mouth to silence her - and she bit down hard. The taste of his blood in her throat made her choke which he easily pulled away. The voice in the darkness laughed again. "Biting now?" His breath was coming heavily against her neck. "My turn." Both hands pinning her into the wall on either side of her head, he sank his teeth into her throat. Her lips opened in a coarse scream.
Bulma woke with a start, with her hands on her neck, on the verge of screaming. She looked down at her hands, to see no blood. But her neck was still stinging with the pain. She looked out the window, breathing easily. The morning streaked the sky in hues of crimson red.
Reality meant nothing to Bulma. She had surrounded herself with hope and strength, so her son could grow strong. But one could not escape pain entirely; the real pain she suffered was at night, when hallucinations came to her and spread their dark wings over her sleeping form. To comfort herself, she tried to retrieve a mental image of Yamcha, the cocky grin, the dimples on his crossed-scar and his nonchalant laughter. Instead, she got the memory of Vegeta, cold and ruthless scowl and echoing chuckle that made the hair on her neck rise in fear.
Shakily, she rose from the bed, looking around fearfully as though he was somewhere within the shadows of the morning light. When there was no saiyan prince there, she straightened. Feeling more confident that it was just a nightmare, she pulled on black jeans and a Capsule Corps blue jacket, with the original logo on it as well. She remembered, so long ago, when she stood as a little girl, drawing a large letter "C" outlined in black and white crayons. She had presented it to her father, smiling ear to ear, while saying, "I wrote Capsule Corp!" Her father, impressed by the picture, had turned it into the company logo. She put her fingers to the button and closed her eyes, attempting to remember. Lastly, she put on the necklace, the spiraling hook necklace. She remembered only four years ago, how Yamcha gently placed it over her head and touched her collarbone, grinning. "This is just temporary—soon I'll get you a ring with a diamond." The chain had broken and the black paint on the hook faded to gray, but it was still the gift. How sincere he had been when he had said that, how truthful he seemed when he spoke of marriage.
It saddened her, how much she had believed him. How much she waited for him to return each day, only to receive the news of nothing. How her hope had kept her up long enough to make her fall harder.
How much I couldn't believe you were gone…
She walked into the kitchen, preparing a little tea to calm her nerves. The familiar smell of the leaves brought unsuspecting comfort to her mind. Goku came in, hard-faced. He stood there, uneasy for awhile, looking down at the floor. Bulma waited for him to speak, already dreading the worst.
Finally in a hesitant voice, Goku said, "Goten was outside this morning, ice fishing with Trunks. He saw… he saw a space pod fly across the sky."
Bulma jerked and dropped the tea and the liquid poured all over her legs. She cried out, gripped her legs, but also wishing to grip her heart that sprang into her throat.
Goku disappeared and returned with a cool cloth, gently pressing it into her hands. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she whispered, "Where are they?" Goku dipped his head and murmured, "I saw it crash far down towards the south but I feel an abnormally strong aura headed in this direction. It's sure to be Vegeta." Bulma paled visibly at his name. Goku's face softened. "I want you to leave, Bulma, take Trunks with you. You're who he is after. I'll hold him off, for a little bit at least."
Bulma nodded and walked to the closet, taking one of the survival packs. "I knew this day would come," she said in a hollow voice. He didn't respond, seeming to be locked in a world of his own. She wondered what he was thinking about, the way his eyes furrowed down in complete concentration. Probably which way his punch would be thrown and how he would block, where he would aim. How much energy he would use for each shot, and probably trying to sharpen all of his senses to prepare himself for the moment.
He looked at her and said sharply, "Go! He'll be here any minute!"
She nodded and whispered, "Don't die, Goku."
Goku didn't respond and she felt half of her heart being ripped from her chest. She walked outside, slowly in a dream state, to see Trunks already standing there, with a survival pack slung over his shoulder. His eyes were also furrowed down in a glare, making him look so much like him. She turned away, the other half of her heart beginning to dissolve. "These are the saiyans that attacked a few years ago?" He asked in an urgent voice. "The ones that killed Grandpa?"
Unable to answer, she nodded. And me as well, she wished to say. Trunks broke out into a grim smile as he picked up his mother by the legs and began flying, low but fast. She kept one hand on his head to keep balance. She looked up towards the sky, fearfully, trying to sort out the different colors, looking for the very man she feared—her lover. Vegeta.
Vegeta burst into the house, the door swinging uselessly against its hinges as it broke, shattering to the ground. The Chickyuu house was nothing like the ones four years before that towered over the ground and overlooked an entire city. The house appeared to be falling apart on itself like a saggy lump of twigs held together by a clumsy pile of mud, proud yet not sturdy, leaning on its side heavily, held up with an unsteady pole. The windows had no protection against the elements and the door itself was far too easy to break down.
"I've been waiting for you, Vegeta." A voice said loudly. He looked towards the center of the room to see a five-spiked hair man wearing an orange gi. He had his back to Vegeta, but the prince knew who he was, even after all of these years.
Vegeta's face broke into a smirk. "Well, Kakarot. Come to greet your prince properly?"
Goku turned around slowly, his eyes narrowed down angrily. "You aren't welcome here, Vegeta."
Vegeta, while examining a strange Chickyuu object in his hands, coolly said, "You know what I'm here for Kakarot, so hand her over." The object was a strange glass figure of a woman, with her pale head tilted to look up at Vegeta with baleful black eyes.
Goku's fists tightened at his sides as he smiled grimly and said, "You're not getting her, Vegeta." Vegeta smirked and crushed the pretty object in his hand. The frail thing shattered and bit into his hand, spraying all over in a rain of glass over his fist. "Kakarot," he paused, flicking away the shards, "I can come here easily and quietly, just take the woman and the child, or if you force me, I'll have to do something very… unpleasant."
Goku's expression did not change. "Bulma stays, along with the child."
Vegeta smirked and said in feigned sadness, "It's a pity you haven't learned anything from the past, Kakarot." He raised an eyebrow at his lost arm and said, "Even when its evidence is right in your face."
Goku didn't even see him move, or even had time to block himself from the attack. Suddenly his remaining arm was twisted around his back in the wrong direction and Vegeta held it there, with his foot planted in his back. Vegeta chuckled, jerking his arm further. Goku yelled, feeling the bone shatter. Then his arm hung limp as Vegeta released his limb.
Vegeta shook his head and said with fake sympathy, "A saiyan with no arms, what use is that?" He held his open hand in Goku's face as it began glowing with chi. "Die in stupidity, Kakarot." He hissed.
Goku swung his legs around, in an attempt to trip Vegeta. The saiyan prince easily hopped over but Goku jumped up to his feet abruptly and rammed his body into Vegeta. The impact sent the prince through the wall. Vegeta stood slowly, outside with a few wooden planks that used to make up the house.
Goku weakly with his limp hand took a bean from the pouch in his belt and put it to his mouth. Vegeta watched, astonished, as Goku healed once more. He flexed his now healed fingers and smiled warily, "See Vegeta? I'm not letting you go that easily." His eyes narrowed. "Bulma and her son are part of my family, Vegeta. There is nothing you can do to take that away."
Vegeta's smirk widened. "We'll see about that, Kakarot."
He pointed his first two fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. Goku tensed, trying to anticipate his foe's intentions. Suddenly Vegeta's eyes flew open and his elbow jerked down, releasing a concentrated chi ball. Goku had suspected that move and dodged to the side, but Vegeta had leaped up and flew into Goku full force. They both attacked each other with a flurry of attacks, mixtures of punches and kicks. By the human eye, it was impossible to tell who was winning or losing but suddenly Vegeta jerked his arm back and landed a heavy blow on Goku's face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Blood spilled from his lips as Goku spat a mouthful of the liquid onto the earth. He felt his face swell—not a very pleasant sensation. He wiped off the blood with a grimace on his face, while Vegeta jeered at him, "What's the matter, Kakarot? The easy living made you soft and forget what your own blood looks like?" Goku smirked and said darkly, "I've had no easy living ever since you came, Vegeta. You've made my life a living hell!" He shot a ki ball at the prince and Vegeta took it on, full force.
Goku leapt back up and dove straight into the air and into the saiyan prince, hitting him with a heavy thud as he didn't slow the attack, sending two punches into Vegeta. Vegeta scowled and used his legs to ram into Goku, sending Goku into the earth, creating a huge crater on the surface. Without pausing for a second, Vegeta shot two ki beams down at the crater. They landed into Goku, yet the saiyan made no reply.
Vegeta said loudly, "I suppose I'll go fetch my woman now."
This made Goku fly up in rage, eyes glowing with anger. "She's not yours!" He screamed, plummeting Vegeta to the ground.
Surprised by his sudden comeback, he kicked Goku off of him and landed a few punches in him. Drawing his hand in a diagonal line, he sent a sharp jet of ki in Goku's direction, splintering the fighter's body into a mass of blood. From the amount of blood loss, Goku collapsed.
Vegeta scowled, sensing Goku still alive yet unconscious. "And I fail to kill him yet again." He looked back towards the house. There were no lifeforms pulsing from the human pile of sticks.
But two small energies were creeping off of his scouter towards the east. That had to be them. Vegeta would tear apart the earth itself in search of her. It was the suspense he hated the most, for he had never been a patient creature.
Bulma felt it in her chest, a large fist forming right around her collarbone. She felt the impact as Goku collided into the earth and she heard the saiyan's prince laughter echoing in her mind. She knew that Goku would not last very long. And it was time for her to face her greatest fear. "Trunks," She said quietly, gently tapping her son on the shoulder. "Put me down."
Obediently, Trunks put her feet down on the ground first and said, "Yes, Mom?" She looked at her son. He was so innocent, too innocent to be the son of that monster. He had her whole heart. She refused to let him fall into his hands. "Leave me here," she said slowly, "and go on alone." Trunks was shocked by his mother's request and he protested. His mother overrode her son's reaction and said, "Trunks that's an order."
Trunks dipped his head. His mother never spoke that way to him. He did not fully grasp their situation but he slowly nodded and said, "Yes mother."
Bulma forced her lips into a smile. "That's my Trunks." She said softly, running her hand through his hair. She kissed him on the forehead gently. "I'm so proud of you." Slowly, the boy levitated, looking at his mother, feeling her courage and confidence and not even noticing the usual suspicions. It was then she realized that the boy had always, to some extent, understood. He had seen this coming, known what she was thinking and didn't need any answers. Some part of him must have known what his accursed birth was like, how much she screamed and cursed when he had first come into the world. Trunks' eyes melted as he whispered, "Be careful, Mom." His eyes melted at his mother with sympathy and compassion. Then he burst in a stream of blue light towards the cave.
Soon the child would be safe from the real harm. His mother, however, would possibly not be as lucky. Her resolve became shakey. Was she doing the right thing? She shivered and crouched down in the snow, wrapping her arms around herself.
And waited.
There was a blue line streaking across the land at a distance, possibly no more than a few miles away. And then it veered towards her, opening and widening. She couldn't breathe. Her worst fear. Her living nightmare.
He stopped flying a few yards away but he continued running, skimming against the top of the snow, the snow flying up behind him in a wave that fell back to the earth. Bulma stood, slowly, hands grasping her forearms, shaking from the cold...and fear. Then he stopped a few feet before her, skidding to a stop in the snow, spraying a sheet of the icy powder at her feet.
Near a decade had passed, and still her memory of him remained the same, if not worse. His oblivion eyes were so dark, it was as though they were made of the shadows themselves, piercing through the human girl and causing her mind to go cold with fear. The red scouter, the piece of scarlet blood glass over his left eye, added a sinister touch. He was muscular and tall, towering into the sky. He wasn't much taller than she was but she felt like she had to turn her face completely upward to see him. Powerful, shimmering with an aura of dark blue. His profile was sharper than she remembered. The years had stripped him of any of his boyish features. And that cold, twisted smile spreading across his face rooted her to the spot in terror.
She was just like in his dreams, no even better, a vision. She was as pale as creamy milk and her skin gleamed in the slimmer of sunlight. She hadn't aged a day, even after eight years. No, if possible, she was even more beautiful. Her blue hair was a shimmering veil covering her head and billowing in the wind. A vision of water and ice. She was shorter than most saiyan women, and slender. Her eyes were a mixture of different hues of blue, like changing waters, in defiance, anger, hatred and fear, all directed towards him. Her cheeks were a faint blue from the cold. She was well curved and the figure in her seemed softer yet even more defined. He had to fight the temptation of sweeping her into his arms and devouring her whole, claiming the woman his.
She gripped the spiraling hook, as though it could bring her a bit of comfort, a little connection to the time where she had been carefree.
"Bulma," he said icily, keeping his eyes level with hers. He had to tilt his face down at the woman in order to look her full in the face.
Bulma shivered. His voice was still deep and whole, that demonic voice that came to her during her sleepless nights. It was colder than the atmosphere around her, his breath so cold it didn't even hang in the air like hers. She replied, trying to mimic his indifference, "Vegeta."
The wind flew around them, hissing in Bulma's ears. She wished more than anything to just disappear at that moment and fly away in the wind. The silence made Bulma nervous. He was just buying his time on thinking of what he would do to her. They both knew, and also knew that the other knew, that Bulma was powerless against Vegeta. And how this encounter would end.
Her only tactic was wit against strength, it wasn't much. This was only a delay, for Trunks to reach the cave in time, perhaps his only sanctuary now. But even her delay would not last long, just like Goku's. Soon the prince would strike her dead...and she would never see her little boy again.
She cursed herself for not asking Goku for more lessons about chi. She didn't know how to form it, only how to fly and sense it. Nor were her fighting skills of any use.
Vegeta chuckled darkly. "Time has had little effect on you." She didn't reply, unsure of what to say.
"Vegeta," she said his name again, narrowing her eyes. He felt a jolt of energy sizzle through him; he loved the way this woman pronounced his name. "You've come back. I've anticipated this." Casually, she stuck her hands in her coat pockets to protect them from the cold.
Vegeta laughed again, coldly, harshly. "Woman. This day was going to come. You have given birth to an heir to the throne, a costly mistake."
Bulma's temper flared and she lost her cool demeanor. "Mistake?! Was it any choice of mine to be raped at the mere age of 16 by a monster?" She spat the title as though it were filth. If anything she was in a helpless position. He knew it. She knew it. She hated him for it.
Vegeta raised an eyebrow and said, with feigned concern, "Of course. One could only imagine the horrors you have endured over the last eight years." The knowing smirk on his lips made his words mocking.
All of her feelings that she had bottled up inside her for half a decade suddenly spewed. Anger. Frustration. Grief. Terror. Hatred. It all come bursting out of her, wrenched from her lips as though torn from her very soul. She glared at him with such hatred he could practically feel the heat of her vision on his face. Her hand had clutched into a fist, turning paler each second. "What you have come back for," she seethed, "will not come to you."
Vegeta smirked and took a step, his feet sinking into the already knee-deep snow. Bulma didn't move, not backing away like she did years ago. He found this irritating yet oddly attracting. She was no longer afraid of him. He had been away too long. Her eyes, instead of widening, narrowed even more, her teeth bared in a tight snarl. "How do you know what I come back for?" He asked.
Bulma didn't even blink. "The child. He's your only heir to your throne, is he not? You have come to take him away from me but damn it I won't let you." She pinched her lips into a thin line. "I'm surprised he's your only heir. Being the prince of saiyans you must have seduced others and the chances of them producing another heir is very high."
Taken back, Vegeta suddenly straightened. He laughed at her, shaking his head in wonder. "Such insolence." He took another step and Bulma bit her lower lip. Please don't come any closer. "There is no other heir because there are no others. You're the only woman I have ever touched that is still alive. The others are dead, killed by my own hands, or ripped apart alive by the experience of giving birth to a saiyan. Most races are not powerful enough to survive the birth of a saiyan." He paused and looked at her strangely. "Though how a weak Chickyuuian like you could have survived escapes me."
Bulma didn't respond. She remembered Trunks' birth, ripping her body almost into two pieces. She remembered screaming so much that her voice was hoarse for a week. She remembered so much blood… She only survived because of her willpower, her want of the death of the prince of Vegetasei. She remembered inititally ooking at her firstborn with utter distaste but now her son was her only reason to live.
Vegeta suddenly was straight in front of her, so tall she was forced to look straight up to him. She fell a step back and he took her wrist, almost shattering the fragile bone in his hand, making her wince. Just touching her made his blood race and he felt his pulse throbbing in his head. Her skin was just flawless... "I am not here merely for the child. I have also been sent to retrieve the mother." Her mind jumped instantly, her skin freezing with realization. "I will not be…" She snapped, before he cut her off.
"I dislike your attitude towards me, Bulma," He exaggerated her name. "Perhaps I should remind you how it is done." A cruel smile was fixed on his lips.
His eyes fixed on the hook necklace. His face darkened in confusion and he studied it, reaching out to brush his fingers against it. "What an odd trinket—" he began before Bulma threw off his wrist with a quick, single movement, backing away a few steps and snarling, "Dare you touch me again and I'll… I'll…"
Her mind searched frantically for a way to keep him physically away from her, some form of a threat, something to keep him away. She opened the survival pack, then threw the bag aside and she held a short dagger in her hand. The weight of the weapon made feel reassured.
Vegeta laughed, clearly amused by her defiance. "I suppose you are going to attempt to plunge the weapon through me and kill me?" He laughed again, making her burn with anger. His tone made it seem like it was impossible. Then it flickered through her mind that it was.
"Nothing's impossible," she gritted her teeth, speaking mostly to herself. "Or maybe," she tested, swinging the knife around, "Maybe it's for me." She laid its cold tip to rest against her collar bone.
Vegeta chuckled. "Women, you are truly a work of art." His eyes darkened. "You know as well as I that you aren't one for suicide theatrics."
She grimaced. Was she? The thought of death was a welcome release after all the misery of these years. But it was cowardly and weak. And she couldn't leave her little boy alone in the world without his mother.
Suddenly he wasn't there anymore and she was aware of how the knife was suddenly no longer at her neck. Vegeta was standing right in front of her, resting the knife on his stomach. "Go ahead," he taunted, "Kill me. I won't move."
Here was the man that caused her so much grief. Here was the man that caused her life to be a living nightmare. The man was completely ready for her not to kill him but oh how she longed to prove him wrong. In one quick jab, she could be at the end of her cruel life and start a new one. She could just ditch her problems behind her right there.
And yet… something held her back, freezing her with her fingers curled around the handle of the knife. Perhaps it was because this alien in front of her was the father of her firstborn. Perhaps it was the dread if she saw the blood of the man forever scarred on her past. Perhaps it was the horror of, if she did, then she would have sunk to his level and become no better than he.
She lowered her head. No, she couldn't do it. Even if she did, the saiyan probably had a trick behind his back ready to take her down with it. Hah, like he'd really let her kill him. She almost threw the knife aside yet temptation held her in place, urging to end of her troubles.
Bulma stood with the knife still resting on his stomach, torn. Finally, trembling, she threw the knife aside. With some regret, she watched it land somewhere in the featureless landscape, landing somewhere in the vast field of snow. "Pathetic woman." He jeered.
Trunks must have reached the cave by now. Her son was safe that was all that mattered. She looked up at the prince, her emotionless eyes drilling a hole through him. He was then suddenly behind her, his arms pinning at her waist into him. She felt frozen in time, remembering a few years ago. "You are a wonder, woman," he said in her ear. "Perhaps by some sort of miracle you have gained feelings for me over the years."
"My name," she hissed angrily, "is Bulma. Not woman. Perhaps your barbaric mind cannot grasp the difference. And I will never fall in love with a demon."
"How very touching." He said dryly, his fingers unzipping her jacket. Cold air bit into her bare skin.
"I'm here to remind you that you are the lover of the prince of saiyans." He hissed in her ear. With an abrupt movement, he had twisted her around, lifting her chin upward to look at him. He suddenly kissed her, forcefully planting his lips on hers and filling her mouth with the taste of blood. His hands were in her jacket, roaming over her soft skin.
"A saiyan isn't gentle, woman." His words years before rang in her head. "He won't stop at anything to get what he wants." Another chill fell over her mind. She couldn't run away. Her arms were hanging uselessly and she couldn't get any feeling into them. "Since we are lovers," he whispered darkly in her hair, "and you are no longer a virgin, I will suspect you will have more experience this time and know what is coming." He smirked and she felt every muscle in her body tense.
It was then she broke away from him, sliding her arms out of his grasp and running. Faster, faster, faster… She knew she couldn't make it but she didn't want to be near the saiyan any longer. She zipped her jacket up to her chin and ran, hot tears blinding her vision. Bulma wouldn't go back, she couldn't go back. Behind her was a living nightmare, her living nightmare. That was it, she was having a nightmare and she couldn't wake up. Maybe she never would. It was hopeless though. He was a large image, throwing his shadow everywhere and she couldn't run away...
Then Vegeta was back in front of her, laughing. Her foot hit something hard in the snow that drew a cut into her boot. She did not hesitate; she reached down and picked up the knife. Slightly cold in her hand, she didn't pause that time and plunged the knife into Vegeta's stomach. Slashing it into a frantic semi-circle in his stomach, she pulled it out and backed away, each step tempting her to run. His blood flew out of his wound in an angry wave.
Bulma shut her eyes tight and knew that he wasn't dead, much less hurt by the wound. He approached her, slowly, the blood from his stomach soaking into the material of his armor and dribbling onto the snow. "The most damage any woman has ever done to me," he said aloud, putting his finger to his blood. His face split into a smirk and he laughed again, this time low and menacing.
His hand shot forward and suddenly she wasn't holding the knife anymore. Suddenly the knife had collided into her, the butt of the handle jamming into her cheek, and blood was frothing from her lips. He pulled so quickly backward that she fell backward, falling onto the snow. Earth and sky melded as one.
She realized that she was nothing to him – just the mother of a brat that he came to be rid of, just like the others. Her insides shook with the meaning. Her little boy would be dead after she was taken care of.
Vegeta watched her curiously. Her blood began soaking into the snow, a mass of red pooling from her lips. Her eyes were blank, staring up into the sky. She looked like a pretty doll now broken in a heap. Regret clutched his mind as he crouched next to her. She flinched instantly when his hand touched her bruising cheek.
"I am not afraid of death," she said aloud, as though welcoming the final shot.
Vegeta laughed and said icily, "But you are afraid of me." His hand trailed down her neck in a whispery motion as he said in a mocking voice, "Aren't you?"
"I fear nothing," She declared, but her voice came out in a feeble whisper. Bulma clenched her teeth in order for the tears not to come. She had to be strong for Trunks. To the very end, whether it was Vegeta, a fall from a cliff or a sudden murder. Trunks needed her to be strong for him.
Vegeta moved a stray curl of sapphire away from her face and whispered in sinister gentleness, "Remember who I am and what I have done. Go back to twelve years ago when you first laid eyes on me and remember why."
Not according to her will, her eyes shut and all the memories flooded back...
12 years ago
The stench of fresh blood rose from the ground, from a thousand dying bodies. A silence hovered in an ominous cloud over the eerily empty city, shattered by an occasional scream, then swallowed up immediately after. The ruins of the city stood like hulking silent giants - remnants of skyscrapers, fallen billboards, up-torn roads, shards of glass scattered across sidewalks like shimmering, transparent snow.
Standing on the top of a building, the prince of saiyans surveyed the ground before him with a note of satisfaction. His two partners were off, Kami knew where, somewhere here in the wreckage, probably taking out their bloodlust on some poor survivors. But he stood above it all, gazing down at ruins before him, basking in relish of it all.
Under an hour's time, it had only taken the three of them to render a populated, bustling city, full of life and light and movement and noise, into this quiet, eerie graveyard. The world was painted with crimson - on his hands, his face. The blood of millions upon him. He relished in his power, in their fear in their eyes. How those children screamed, how women ran, how grown men fell crying on their faces, reduced to helpless tears in his wake. Oh, they were so powerless before him. In spite all their running, crying and pleading, in the end, he was the one who determined their fate. Clenched in his very hand was Death, and none could escape him.
A shiver tore through him and he bent his head toward the sky above him, clenching his fists on either side of him. The sun shimmered through the darkened clouds and shone upon him like a blessing. This was power. This was life. He was young and in the prime of his power, none could defy him, none could escape him.
But is this it? A tiny voice said in the back of his mind. Annoyed, he attempted to ignore it again, but it seemed to be growing louder of late. Is this all there is?
Static burst from his scouter. Irritated for the interruption of peace, he answered curtly, "What."
"Well, Nappa and I uncovered a huge group of stragglers down here - we're talking like 50-60 people all in this underground tunnel. But when we cornered them, they all bolted and we're having a tough time tracking them down. Now, I wasn't going to call you, but Nappa said that you might be interested…"
A malicious smirk tilted across his lips as he regarded the world below him. The lives of these mortals were pathetic, weak, insects crawling in the dust. For a fleeting moment, he recalled the surge of adrenaline in his veins, the ecstasy of his own power thrilling him, their fearful screams in the air, painting the world crimson. His grin widened savagely. "I'll be there."
Stepping on the side of the building, he regarded the city before him - those countless winding streets, a thousand floors to a building, deep alleyways running between huge skyscrapers. A million rocks for these pests to scrabble underneath for cover. Oh, he would find them.
He always caught his prey in the end.
He leapt off the building in a surge, letting gravity take him as he shot down the side of the building, his own falling reflection caught on the shimmering surface of the desecrated tower like a vertical stream. A sensation tore deep from his chest and he released it in a howl of dark laughter echoing off the skyscrapers around him…
The young girl stood staring open-mouthed at where the laughing man had stepped off and fallen off the skyscraper. She watched him with horrified eyes as he was about to impact the ground - when he suddenly veered off and took flight in a shimmer of blue aura.
"Mikomi!" Bulma called to the child. The 16-year old made her way unsteadily around the rubble, skidding off the mound to land next to the girl. "Come on," she said gently to the child she had known for a scarce hour. "The others are moving on without us. We have to go find your mother, remember, Komi-chan?"
Mikomi, or Komi as Bulma had come to call her, looked back at her with tearful eyes and nodded meekly. Bulma pulled the girl into a tight hug and smoothed her hair gently. "Don't worry, we'll find her," she said, trying to be as cheerful as possible. "I'm sure she's with the other group, okay? We just have to keep moving so we can get back to her. Can you walk?"
Komi shook her head and Bulma stooped down to pick the tiny girl up in her arms to keep moving along.
The explosion an hour ago had occurred without a single warning. Since then, a series of massive explosions had occurred and for a while, the world seemed to be erupting with noise. Skyscrapers toppled. Screams echoed. Buildings collapsed. Chaos ensued. Then it was all swallowed up in a hush of eerie quiet.
No one knew for certain what was happening, but everyone could hazard a guess. The saiyans had landed a few weeks earlier and had begun their siege on most of the major cities. But no one had thought that they would ever come here. Their city was too remote, too small, too far from the landing site. But they came anyway and now the city was in smoldering ruin.
As for Bulma, she found a shred of luck on her side. She had been down in the subways when the explosions had occurred. While the subway train itself came to a screeching halt, none had been seriously injured. For the first part of an hour, they remained in the subway tunnels, listening with horror to the havoc on the surface. In that time period, Bulma met Mikomi and her kind mother. Then, the saiyans themselves had discovered and came into the tunnels. Everyone fled, scattering in all directions to escape, and in the confusion, nearly everyone was separated. Mikomi's mother had vanished and Bulma could only hope that she also escaped to the surface.
But Bulma had her own reasons to fear and loathe the saiyan invaders. Her precious father was unfortunately on a business trip at the time in one of the biggest cities - just when the saiyans first attacked. Bulma had not heard from him since - she didn't know whether he was dead or not.
Her dearest companions had departed to defend their planet nearly a week ago. All of their faces were imprinted vividly in her mind, wonderful faces from her childhood: Kirrin, Tien, Piccolo, Goku, his son Gohan, and Yamcha. They departed like heroes on an epic journey of a lifetime, in such a manner that Bulma longed desperately to go with them, to taste the thrill of true adventure once again.
But Yamcha insisted. He held her securely in his arms, tilting her chin up at him with his broad smile lighting his face. "No, B-chan. Stay here, for me. Give me a reason to fight. That every time I take a breath, every time I miss you, I'll be reminded of why I'm fighting." Then he had given her a tender kiss and left her with a hooked necklace and his heart, the promise of their future together hanging in the air.
Oh Yamcha, where are you? Bulma thought fervently. If only they had never left! Then the saiyans themselves would have come to them!
She forced the thoughts out of her mind and turned to more practical things. Hoisting the child in her arms, Bulma picked up her pace to follow the other group of stragglers. There were about four or five others with them now - a widow, an anxious man, three sisters younger than she, and a blind war veteran. Bulma had yet to learn their names, but names could wait. The blind man, who was kind yet experienced, had assumed leadership and decided the smartest move during this unearthly calm was to get out of the city as far away as possible.
"What were you looking at, Komi-chan?" Bulma asked the child, trying to distract her thoughts.
She answered in her soft voice, "At the man falling off the building. He was laughing."
Bulma blinked in surprise, astonished by the gruesome sight the girl had seen. She grimaced. Perhaps someone had been stranded on the top of a building and became so desperate, they jumped off from sheer hysteria. "Did you see him fall?"
"No. Right before he fell, he started flying, just like a bird."
Bulma smiled weakly. The imaginations of children were adorable, albeit untimely.
"Let's keep going then," she told the child very gently. "We're looking for your mother, remember?"
"But Bulma!" the child cried out unexpectedly, clinging to her fearfully. "He was coming this way! I'm scared!"
Bulma gently disentangled the girl's hands from her neck. She glanced up - the group was beginning to move on. The nervous young man was calling out to them to catch up. "Komi, don't be ridiculous," Bulma informed the child. "You're perfectly safe, all right? I promise that-..." Then, inexplicably, she felt a dull prickling under her skin.
She felt the wind rush around her in a cold gust of air, her hair streaming around her face. The nervous young man, who was in the middle of waving, suddenly paled visibly, choking out a wordless half-cry at the sight of something horrible that she could not see. Suddenly he crumpled over in a bloody heap, seemingly without any explanation. The widow was suddenly sent flying backwards into a building, smashing against the debris like a rag doll without even so much a breath. The war veteran, hearing what was going on around him, turned and yelled blindly at whoever remained: "Run!" Suddenly, there was a great burst of light and a gaping hole appeared in his chest. He slumped over, gasping, and he too was slain.
All too suddenly, Bulma was aware of a shadow casting over her, an undeniable presence before her, a breath calm and even like a predator. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Komi was clinging to her, sobbing weakly.
A saiyan.
He was standing on a pile of debris, investigating his bloody handiwork with a disdained, satisfied look in his eyes. An ebony flame crowned his head, defying gravity. His face was smeared in crimson blood and gore, his hands soaked in it. Sunlight shone around him, casting her into his deep shadow. Never before in her life had Bulma Briefs felt so tiny. Then suddenly, his eyes snapped to hers. Bulma felt her chest constrict with fear. His eyes were a bottomless black void, draining her very strength away. On instinct, she wanted to run, but she couldn't move. She stared back into the eyes of a killer.
His disdained mouth suddenly twisted into a crooked smirk.
"Run," he whispered.
Then the spell seemed to have broken. Bulma moved. She turned to the remaining three girls, frozen with fright. "Run!" She screamed. She could hear his laughter echoing somewhere behind her between the buildings and she could hear her own breath in her ears, fast and hard, Komi's sobs into her shoulder. She clung to the child in her arms as a source of hope. The three girls following, one in hysterical tears. She had to survive, this child had to survive, they all needed survive, oh they would, oh please oh please oh please...
She could hear him then. He wasn't flying, simply running behind them, with swift churning of powerful legs far stronger than hers. She ran blindly towards a building when suddenly, there was another flash of light and it fell towards her, creaking and groaning. She leapt aside with a cry torn in her throat as she landed heavily on her side. The building crashed onto the ground - and they just barely dodged it. Komi slipped from her grasp as Bulma cradled her scraped arm, grimacing from the pain. Tears pricked her eyes. The building lay obscuring her path, cornering her. And there was a shadow on the wall, growing smaller as it approached.
"Bulma!" Komi whimpered helplessly, eyes darting desperately as she tugged her arm. "Hurry, we've got to go!"
"Please Bulma!" The oldest girl pleaded. She looked like she might have been twelve.
Bulma tried to sit up but hot knives seemed to sink into her arm. She clutched it, sinking her nails into her skin, hissing against the pain. No, not now...
Footsteps echoed on the buildings around them as he approached. No—they were trapped! Fear and instincts flared her senses to life: she stumbled to her feet. She seized the child back into her good arm and passed her to the oldest sister. She lurched to her feet, blinking past the sudden painful tears, and ran to the first opening in sight: a miraculous standing building. "Follow me!" She yelled. "Quickly!" They hurried along after her, youngest whimpering.
The lighting was swallowed by the building as they ran inside for cover. Bulma's eyes flickered around the building – it seemed like a usual office building. Her mind raced. Elevators would be out. Where could they go? They needed to hide, and then, run when it was clear. Underground? Or would it become their tomb? Above? Or would they be thrown like fledglings from their perch? She started for the emergency stair case, pulling them along. Her arm ached, but she forced herself to keep going, keep going, to be strong.
Then her heart sank – the stairs going down had been completely crushed by the lower part of the building. She could hear him approaching faster now – there was no choice! She pushed the girls upward and they clambered up the stairs as silently and quickly as possible. Bulma frantically tried to calculate a better situation – they were going up now, but where to? They couldn't go anywhere! They were heading straight to a dead end! The skies were his to reign – she had no trump card!
"We've got to run – hide!" the oldest girl said decisively. "Split up!" she commanded her sisters. They suddenly rushed in front of Bulma and vanished into different rooms. Just like that, and they were separated.
"No!" she whispered, horrified, standing alone in the hallway. "No, that won't work, it—" It'll just become a game to him.
Then she heard him approaching again, each firm step echoing up the stairs deliberate and mocking.
She hurried into the closest office room – the door was hanging by one hinge. Do not think, do not move, do not breathe…
She pressed herself against the back of a desk, breathing shallowly. She rested her head against the wall – exhaustion and desperation coming over her, cradling her arm. The quiet screamed in her ears. She could hear the saiyan's footsteps, each step echoing her thudding heartbeat and driving nails into her brain. How could this happen to them? Why now, why here?
No! I've got to think— What was it that Kurrin and Gohan had told her in the past? Suppressing…chi? Something like that? That scouter on his face detected chi. No! Then they were sitting ducks in these rooms, stupid animals waiting to be slaughtered one by one!
No, she had to distract him. Bulma crouched and uneasily made her way across the grass-strewn floor. The workers, she realized in a strange detached way, must have all evacuated the building long ago. The city was so quiet though – where could they have gone? She forced herself not to think about it, not now. She pressed herself against the wall beside the door, and waited, her heartbeat thudding erratically. The suspense itself was going to be the death of her.
Focus, Bulma! She had to do something! What was her next step? She had no weapon, no gun, nothing. Chi – what was it that Kirrin and Gohan said about chi? She forced herself to try to remember what they had tried to explain to her before. Like an energy source inside her body. If she could focus it - maybe she could… she could… Oh, but she never had any training! She cursed herself for not asking Goku when there had been time. Then her eyes snapped to a thick metal rod with shards of glass attached, probably blasted off of one of these shelves. Numbly, she reached out and grabbed it.
Then she was aware of the shadow that appeared in the windows, casting across the ground. She huddled underneath them, trying to make herself as small as possible. Each step was a sonic boom that blared across her ears.
Oh Kami, what do I do?
Then she was aware that the footsteps stopped. She could hear his breathing, slow, deep, deliberate. She felt like she would burst from holding her breath so long. Her heartbeat sounded like a machine gun going off in her mind. Then he spoke, his voice low, deliberate, demonic:
"I can hear your heartbeat, girl."
Fear shot up her legs and grounded her to her spot. Her mouth went dry, her mind blank. Now, Bulma! Now! But she was frozen with fear. Her body wouldn't respond, she was trembling so bad…
No! I've got to save them!
Instinct took over. She burst out of the room, knocking the door over in the process. Without thinking, she moved. Her old fencing lessons flooded her instincts – she stabbed at him in a frenzied series of formations.
Then it occurred to her that not a single one even made contact.
He was holding the end of the rod between his thumb and forefinger. In a twist of his wrist, the rod was bent and snapped uselessly out of shape. A wicked smirk ignited his face as he looked at her, leering. "Odd," he whispered, his dark eyes smoldering. "The first among thousands to stand up and fight." He grasped the rod with his entire hand and pulled her closer. "I'm curious, is it sheer stupidity or bravery that moves you, girl?"
Cornered, there was nothing left. Nothing left, save one, the very last one.
Chi – she had to focus on her energy, feel the world around her— She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Perhaps it was her heightened awareness of the moment or her surging adrenaline – but she felt it as surely as though she was seeing it. A glowing sensation flowing in her body in waves of gold, through her veins, to her ankles, down to her very fingertips. The four dull sparks shimmering somewhere behind her. And then this reservoir of sheer power coming across like waves before her, so fast and strong and unyielding that she was nearly blown away.
She did not think, she did not question – she moved. She channeled that golden wave within her into her hand, focusing, concentrating, imagining it moving along her arm, twisting and crackling in electric waves, and moved. Standing her ground, she reeled her arm back and pummeled it forward. She felt it hit his armor that time, and this time, felt that material give way.
She opened her eyes in time to see the saiyan stumble backwards a few steps. There was a cavity in the center of his armor from where her hit had connected, and she could see his bare flesh underneath, where his heart should have been, had he had one.
His eyes rose to hers, thunderstruck. No, impossible – a simple Chickyuuian girl like her, harness the power of chi and inflict injury on him, the Prince of all Saiyans? But even she seemed surprised from her expression. His scouter alerted him to her steadying rising chi levels. How could he fail to notice earlier? Her chi was significantly higher than those squabbling insects behind her, hiding beneath their pebbles. This was impossible – she was only a Chickyuuian girl!
As surprised as she was, she stood firm and leveled a hard-eyed glare at him. She seethed with a temper all too similar to his own. Chi streamed from her lowered fist, uncontrolled and wild.
His lips curled back into a delighted smirk. What a pleasant surprise, to encounter this strange girl on a day like this. And here he had thought he was getting bored.
"Let's play a game, girl," he said softly. She looked up and met his eyes without flinching, a feat even his own guards could not handle. "I'll be the predator, and you and your companions the prey. I'll count to ten to give you a start, and if you can evade me for, let's say, thirteen minutes, then I'll let one of you live. If I catch you before then…." He leaned his forward , his demonic smirk spreading. "All hell will break loose," he uttered darkly.
Fear coiled its vines around her throat and choked any words there. For a moment, she had thought that she had done significant damage to him- but that hope dried up immediately when she saw the expression of sick delight ignite across his face.
His hard mouth opened.
"One."
And then she was running.
She had played into his hands. Stupid, idiot girl. She played right into his trap. Instead of injuring him or disarming him, she only made his twisted game last longer. And now he was all the ready to use them for his enjoyment.
But she had to win. It was a game, and he held all the pieces, but she had to win.
Eight seconds. Not enough time to find the others. Thirteen minutes. Her mind reeled. Could they evade the prince of saiyans for thirteen minutes? Kami, it was impossible. What could she do? What should she do?
Run. To the farthest place he would expect. Her jumbled thoughts were coming together. He was expecting her first instinct to protect the others, and thus, lead him to them. She was the prize now; she had caught his attention. He would seek her first. So use that, she decided firmly. Lead him away from the others. So suppress her instinct and go the opposite direction, the farthest place imaginable. She made an abrupt turn in the hallway and, without thinking, leapt through the broken window.
The opposite building was falling away at a slant, and within jumping distance. She skidded down the length of the building, shards of glass tumbling with her, the sky reflected in the shiny skyscraper at her feet. She could hear her breath shuddering in her ears.
Follow me! Chase me! Come to me!
Three seconds. The street was cracked and many of the buildings had toppled over. Two seconds. On impulse, she darted into the sound building on her right. One second.
An explosion erupted behind her, from the building that she had just escaped. She muffled her hands over her mouth, to silence the scream rising in her throat as she watched it crumble to the ground. He did not. He did not.
But he did.
She watched as the building containing the three sisters and Komi smolder to the crowd. Dust enveloped the streets.
Frustration and helpless tears pricked her eyes. A hopeless rage consumed her. He tricked her! He had tricked her! Fool! She took his words to heart and believed him! She was a fool for believing he would keep true to his game! She thought she could win if she played by his rules, but he broke them anyway! She took a step forward. Maybe there was a chance that they were still alive. Should she go back and check? No, no that's what he wants. For her to come back to him. And thus end the game. Perhaps the game was over, but already she had lost the lives of her companions. But she was still alive, and maybe that meant that she was still a player. Either way, she couldn't go back, not now. There was nothing she could do, but keep running.
Right when she was about to run into the street, she saw a bright light stream from the fallen building. She ducked behind a cement wall and watched him from her safe spot. He rose high above the city ruins, his dark hair flaming above his blue aura. Searching. For her. With her mind slowly beginning to clear, she recalled Kurrin and Gohan's instructions to lower her chi levels.
She had to move though. Staying here would only delay the inevitable. Most likely, the saiyans would want to be thorough as possible and kill as many stragglers as they could find before moving onto the next city. If she hid here, the possibility of being found would increase. Especially since she wasn't sure how effective the suppressing-chi method worked. She wasn't about to take that gamble either.
Onward and forward then, she decided firmly. She glanced back at where the building had fallen, mourning the loss of the child and nameless sisters. Then moved forward. She began moving from building to building quietly, keeping a sharp eye on the skies above, alert for any movement or sounds around her. The eerie silence covering the fallen city screamed in her ears. She couldn't hear anything but the sound of her frantic heartbeat drumming crazily in her head.
She continued on through the wreckage of fallen walls, broken glass and vehicles. There were craters riddled through the ground, as though a rain of asteroids had fallen. Sometimes she saw broken bloodied fresh corpses on the ground from where they had fallen from the buildings. She skirted around them, refusing to look at them, horror rising in her throat. In some parts of the city there were scattered fires smoldering. Every few minutes she would pause and wait in the shadows of wreckage, heart pounding, before moving on. On several occasions, she saw that same saiyan swooping above the buildings, scanning the fallen wreckage, before taking off again. Each time, so far, she had managed to elude him.
While resting beneath the remains of the public library sign, she saw a flash of bright movement. Immediately, she crouched low beneath the wreckage. It was one of the saiyans hovering over the street, casually scanning the ruins for any signs of life. She wasn't sure if it was the one from before or not.
He suddenly stopped midair and grabbed at the scouter on his cheek. "What is it, prince?"
By the sound of his voice, it couldn't have been the saiyan from before. On closer inspection, there was no way it could have been the saiyan from before. This one had spikey hair almost to his knees. She wondered how she missed such a huge detail.
"You want us to what?" Another pause.
What? Bulma's heart hammered loudly. You want them to what? Join in the search? Obliterate the city? Dissolve the last survivors to ash and dust? Eat the corpses? Were saiyans cannibalistic?
"You want us to leave?!"
What? Did she hear right? She suddenly grew hopeful. Were they moving on then? To the next city? Already? That one saiyan had given up the chase then? This was greater than she could have dreamed.
"But there are still survivors. We can still root them out—" He was cut off, and wincing. "No that's not disobeying your order. All right. We'll move onto the next city then. Hope you know what you're doing, prince." He lowered his hand from the scouter and the next thing Bulma knew, he was a bright blue line streaking up towards the sky. "Oy Nappa! Let's go!" he hollered. Another line streaked upwards to join his, then the lines streaked off in the distance.
They were gone! Bulma could barely contain her joy. She was safe! Free! She had won! She practically went head to head with a saiyan, and she was still alive! Oh, wait until she could tell Yamcha! That'd show him to leave her behind next time! She was half-tempted to whoop and holler, but there was no saying that they wouldn't come back, so she settled for a bright toothy smile on her face and an ocassional fist-pump in the air every few moments.
For the meanwhile, she figured it would be best to determine what to do at this point. She was pretty much helpless until the other Z fighters arrived anyway. Maybe she could figure out a way to contact them without the saiyans noticing. Did any of them have any sort of transmitter on them? As she clambered out of the wreckage, she tried to recall what Yamcha packed.
She skidded down the length of the pile of miscellaneous junk. Now then. Supplies. She tried to remember where the general store was and headed in that direction.
Then a cold wave washed over her. No, wait. Something was wrong.
She felt a sharp prick of intuition, and she leapt back just in time before something collided into the ground and splattered all over her. Something red. With horror, she found herself staring into the dead eyes of the mangled oldest sister. With a terrified shriek, she sprang away. Unwillingly, she found herself staring at the corpse in front of her – there was a gaping hole with her intestines spilling out and all the limbs seemed to be twisted in the wrong places. Her stomach gave a violent lurch at the sight.
The deep voice spoke and she flinched unexpectedly; she hadn't noticed him at all.
"You lose."
She looked up. He was standing at the top of a collapsed building, smirking darkly down at her. And there, dangling from his arm from five stories high, was a struggling, wailing Komi.
The words got caught in her throat from horror and she could barely say a word. "Stop—please don't…!"
His smirk widened but he did not move the child. "You caught me off guard. I didn't think you would leave your companions behind like that. And to think, you managed to evade me for practically an hour. If only your companions were as lucky." His horrible laughter resounded through the remains of the city walls.
"I thought you had left," she said numbly. "The others —I saw them fly from the city."
"You're right. I ordered my men to leave the city. After all, the game was between you and I, wasn't it? But then again, that was what caused you to let down your guard, wasn't it?" He laughed again. Komi shrieked in fear. He made a face and gave her a violent shake. "By Kami, this thing is annoying. Maybe I ought to just put it out of its misery." His hand lowered.
"Stop!" Bulma screamed. "I evaded you for an hour, didn't I? I played your stupid game, and I won! You said—" she stumbled over her words. Could one reason with a demon? Could one hold a murderer to a code of honor? "You said that if I evaded you for thirteen minutes, you would let one of us live. I've won, so let Komi live!"
He raised an eyebrow curiously at her and his expression was almost solemn. Then he levitated downward so that he stood across from her. She felt her throat go dry with fear. Even on level ground, he was still taller than her. She was aware now, more than ever, of the power radiating from him.
Then all of a sudden, he relaxed. "All right," he agreed. "Let's say you win then." Relief flooded through her. Then a hard glint entered his eyes. "But who said you got to choose who lives?"
Bulma's mouth fell open. In one blink, he was standing before her with Komi struggling in his grasp, the next, he had flung her spiraling through the air, tumbling helplessly, and then there was a bright streak of light, and what remained of the child fluttered down in bloody ash.
The saiyan turned around expectantly, and Bulma was on her feet, screaming. She dove at him, chi streaming wildly from her form, and he danced backward, laughing in revelry at her passion. He finally caught both hands above her head. She glared at him through her tears, tears of rage and grief, but not fear. Fearlessness and defiance reflected in her sapphire eyes set his blood on fire.
Magnificent.
"And then there was one," he murmured ominously. His lips crashed onto hers.
She screamed, indignant, repulsed, enraged, struggling in his grasp, but he didn't move, unaffected by her attempts. She tried to level another hit at his head - he merely twisted her wrist painfully. She writhed, screaming curses at him and his eyes snapped open, looking down on her with haughty amusement, those dark hell eyes. His lips twisted into a cruel smile.
"Mine," he uttered against her bared mouth. All along, his existence had been defined by the battlefield, the killing, his conquest for glory and power. To have his name known and feared. The women in the past had been nothing more than to add to his power, and then he tired of them. But this—this was the first that he wanted to claim as his. "For now and a lifetime." He smirked and looked down into her burning blue eyes. "Until death do us part," he added mockingly, before crushing her small human body against his.
A/N: I forgot to mention last time that I adjusted the time frame for this story because I felt like Trunks should have been older. So here is a rough estimate of the time scale (hopefully I stay consistent):
Siege: 4 years
Time jump: 8 years
So this makes the ages:
Trunks: 8 years
Bulma: 28 years
Vegeta: 30 years
Goku: 24 years
Goten: ~8 years
Yeah hopefully my math makes sense :D
Let me know what you guys think!