—2— "I could talk about industrialization and men's fashion all day."

The silence after the machine guns had stopped firing echoed with dreadful resonance. Bulma looked around the room trying to spot Vegeta, but his familiar wick of dark hair was absent from the crowd. Her father held her comfortingly, her own fingers clinging in his shirt. She could admit it, at least to herself: she was scared. The armed men looked like they meant business. Bulma had been around enough military men in her life to know that. They collected everyone's personal devices into a trash bag and completed a final sweep of the room.

"Stay calm. We're gonna be fine, we're gonna be okay," Yamcha whispered in a panicked voice nearby, trying to reassure himself more than anyone else.

"Ladies and Gentleman!"

The last of the screaming and sobbing died down until there was absolute quiet. Everyone looked at the man speaking. He was short and slender, not especially imposing in size but something about his eyes and the way he held himself — the way half a dozen armed men carried out his orders — commanded attention. His hair was severely undercut, slicked back, and dyed a dark purple. He wore an ash-black tailored suit with a maroon red tie that brought images of dripping blood to mind. As his eyes scanned the room, Bulma felt a chill of dread pass over her as if Death himself had just measured her life.

"Allow me to dispense with introductions. I am Frieza, your unexpected host for the evening. Do be so kind as to follow all instructions given and you might be able to walk out of here rather than be carried out. In pieces." He smiled, his eyes crinkling cruelly. It was an unpleasant expression which made her gut wriggle with revulsion. A few whimpers of fear met this statement but were quickly quashed as this Frieza raised a hand to continue.

"Now, due to Capsule Corporation's excessive monopolization and greed, I am about to teach them a lesson in the real use of power. You will all bear witness… So without further ado, where is Dr Briefs?"

Bulma tightened her hold on her father. "Don't," she whispered.

Frieza started walking leisurely through the crowd of Capsule Corp employees, eying each one of them from head to toe. "Dr Briefs. Born in 692. Graduated from West City's College of Science and Engineering with a doctorate in physical science. Founder and CEO of Capsule Corporation in 712 after his revolutionary invention of the hoi-poi capsule. Generous benefactor of six humane animal shelters. Married, father of two, one of whom recently became Capsule Corporation's COO."

"Enough." To Bulma's horror, her father let her go and stepped forward. "I'm the one you want."

"Daddy, no!" she cried out, clawing for his arm to tug him back. He gave her a sympathetic smile before two armed men grabbed him up and whisked him away. Frieza walked smoothly past her.

"Don't you dare hurt him!" She shrieked, shaking in both fear and fury.

Frieza gave her a sinister smile. "That's entirely up to him." Then he left for the elevator where he and two of his men abducted her father upstairs. Bulma picked up a nearby present from the Christmas tree and hurled it uselessly after them.

~xox~

Vegeta moved from floor to floor, checking each one as he went up. He encountered men transporting heavy artillery on the 32nd floor, submachine guns strapped to their backs, but he was able to retreat before they noticed him. Whatever this operation was, it was well orchestrated and well manned.

The first phone he could safely get to was dead. As was the next, and the next.

"Fuck!" He slammed the receiver down and pushed a hand through his hair in frustration. He could almost hear Bulma's voice now chastising him for not owning a cellphone. It was killing him to feel so helpless, and every second he left Bulma in the hands of terrorists was gnawing at him.

A moving light caught his attention. Glancing over he watched as the elevator drifted up, the display indicating it had stopped at the floor above. He hurried back to the stairs and followed it up. He needed information.

The 34th floor was elaborately decorated, some kind of showroom displaying Capsule Corporations' many achievements, as well as various antiques that Bulma's father had amassed over the years. Japanese armor. A crystal skull. Gold inlaid pages from ancient texts. Vegeta watched as three men escorted Dr Briefs through the gallery.

"A beautiful collection, doctor."

Vegeta couldn't believe his eyes, but there was no denying that voice. It would be imprinted on him the rest of his days and nightmares to come.

Frieza. Criminal, terrorist, war monger. He had run up against Frieza and his operation several times during his service. It was thanks to Frieza that he had been forced into early retirement.

What the fuck was he doing here?

"Your empire is impressive," Frieza mused. "Vast, expansive. Like the Romans. What will be your downfall I wonder?"

Dr Briefs said nothing, hands shoved in his pockets. Vegeta had to give him credit for keeping a cool head under the circumstances, but his presence was a problem. It was going to be hard to act without endangering his life.

And oh, how Vegeta itched to act. Frieza was right there along with two of his lackeys who he was also familiar with: Zarbon and Appule. Memories threatened to bubble up and cloud his judgement, but Vegeta pushed them — and his seething hatred — back for now. For Dr Briefs and Bulma. Going out in a blaze of glory wasn't going to help them.

Frieza paused by an illuminated glass display with a large crystal ball inside. It had four reddish markings resembling stars. The refracting light of the amber crystal glittered back in Frieza's eyes. "The world's rarest gemstone," he purred. "One of the infamous Dragon Balls. Legend has it they were handcrafted by ancient priests and contained magical properties. As a set, they are worth more than 600 million dollars, no?"

Dr Briefs said nothing.

Frieza's eyes slid to him before his face broke out into a serpentine smile. "Forgive me, I'm something of a collector myself. But enough history. To business, shall we?" They moved into the adjacent board room. Vegeta snuck closer, hiding behind one of the displays to better eavesdrop on the conversation. The boardroom had a window on the door he was able to glimpse through.

"We are both busy men, so I shall not waste time." Frieza gestured for Dr Briefs to take a seat. "All we require from you is your passcode and then we shall be out of your hair."

Dr Briefs sat down. He pulled something out of his pocket, slowly so as not to trigger the gunmen, and placed a cigarette in his mouth. He lit it, set his lighter down, and finally replied. "If you don't mind my saying, my code is useless to you. It changes every midnight. That's hardly enough time to get up to much mischief."

Frieza's mouth curled up in a chilling smile that didn't reach his eyes. "If it's so useless, then there's no reason not to give it to us."

Dr Briefs took a drag on his cigarette. "If you're thinking of holding our company ransom—"

"What I'm thinking," Frieza smoothly interjected, interlocking his fingers as he leaned forward, "is that I require your code to access your vault."

"The vault?"

Frieza's grin widened dangerously. "That is where the other six Dragon Balls are."

Dr Briefs went still. "…You're after the Dragon Balls? What kind of terrorists are you?"

"Allow me to worry about my agenda. All you need concern yourself with is your code."

Zarbon spun a laptop about and shoved it towards Dr Briefs, where a blinking cursor awaited input.

Dr Briefs glanced at the screen. He took another puff. Vegeta saw the old man's hands trembling slightly.

Frieza leaned back in his chair. "I understand your reticence. Admire it even a little. But a few pretty gemstones are not worth dying over, are they, Doctor? You keep them locked away, unappreciated. Forgotten. You'll hardly even know they're missing. I get the stones, you get to continue playing Alexander."

Dr Briefs said nothing, didn't even move. Ash from his cigarette fell onto the table.

Frieza sighed and pulled out a handgun. Vegeta tensed, watching as Frieza stood and walked around the table, moving out his sight. "I am going to count to three. There will not be a four."

Dr Briefs still didn't budge. Vegeta glanced about the room. He not longer had a clear shot if he was going to take one.

"One…"

He moved carefully to the next display.

"Two…"

The angle wasn't much better. Zarbon and Appule were annoyingly in the way.

"Three—"

"My password isn't the only one needed to access the vault," Dr Briefs tried to explain.

"Then again, you should have no qualms handing it over."

Dr Briefs hung his head.

"Zarbon, radio Dodoria and have him shoot the daughter."

Vegeta went cold. Bulma! He had to get back downstairs to her—

"Wait!" Dr Briefs leaned forward, his cigarette falling from his mouth. "Please, leave my little girl out of this."

The laptop was nudged closer. "The code then. Now."

Dr Briefs' shoulders slumped and he typed in his passcode. Appule took the computer and checked the code's authenticity. He nodded. "It's good."

"Excellent," Frieza enthused. "I do so love the conclusion of a successful business deal."

The gunshot ripped the silence, and a red film of mist sprayed against the boardroom window. Dr Briefs' chair fell over from the impact. Vegeta reeled back, pressing himself flat against the display incase he was seen. His breath sounded too loud in his ears.

"Zarbon, be a dear and clean that up. Appule, bring the laptop downstairs; we have work to do if we want to get into that vault."

The three men left, Zarbon dragging Dr Brief's away. When the elevator door's closed, Vegeta dropped his head forward against the edge of his pistol.

"Fuck. Fuck." He had hesitated, and it cost a good man his life. How the hell was he going to tell Bulma he had let her father get executed?

When the elevator was long gone, Vegeta stood and moved inside the conference room. There was fresh blood on the floor, and the old man's lighter sat on the table. Vegeta picked it up. It was heavier than he expected. Weighted with guilt. He slipped it into his pocket to give to Bulma later.

He had to do something. If Frieza was running this operation, there was no chance for any peaceful resolution. Dr Briefs' compliance had just proven that.

"Think, goddamnit."

He looked around and his eyes landed on the case with the Dragon Ball.

~xox~

"Where's my father? Where is he? What did you do to him?"

Frieza smiled serenely, watching as a terrified man in a yellow suit held the Briefs girl back for her own protection. She certainly was a spitfire. He had a soft spot for the kind. They were always so fun to rile up.

"I wanted this to be professional," Frieza lamented, speaking to the hostages while pointedly ignoring the girl. "Efficient. Cooperative. Alas, Dr Briefs failed to meet those requirements, so he won't be joining us for the rest of his life."

The daughter screamed. Frieza had been anticipating it. They always screamed. To her credit, amidst her tears, she shouted a slew of unladylike curses his way. How amusing. When her ire petered out into broken sobbing, the poor chap next to her caught her up and tried miserably to comfort her.

Frieza's radio crackled, breaking up the droll display. "What is it?" he inquired.

"A silent alarm has been tripped."

He exhaled through his nose at the minor annoyance. "Then contact the security company and give them the code to call it off. Must I do everything?"

"Yes Sir, uh, no sir. But I think you should know it originated from the 34th floor."

Frieza frowned and looked over at Dodoria. "Is anyone supposed to be up there?"

Dodoria shook his head.

Frieza clicked his tongue unhappily. "Cui, go investigate that. Quickly, please. I don't like loose ends."

~xox~

Vegeta looked out the massive window as a couple police cars came down the main street. "Fucking finally." Never did he think he would be so grateful to see flashing red and blue lights. They were nearly at the last intersection when, incredulously, the lights turned off and the cars slowed and turned back the way they had come.

"What the… No, NO. YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! GET BACK HERE!" He slammed his palm to the glass just as the sound of the elevator behind him announced its arrival.

A man stepped out, and they both drew their weapons on the other.

"Hi," Vegeta deadpanned. "Come for the view?"

"Vegeta? What are you doing here?" Cui glanced around. A nasty smile grew on his face. "All by yourself, huh? Don't you have all the luck."

"Tell me about it."

"Well then, this should be easy since you know who you're dealing with. It would be stupid to resist. Put your weapon down and you can rejoin the others."

"No thanks. I've never been very good around others. Or liars."

"Have it your way then."

Vegeta jumped behind a display case as Cui open-fired. He fell into a roll and sprang back on his feet, running and firing off wild shots behind him to provide cover for his escape. Bullets chased after him until he found the first set of door and dove in. The machine gun fire stopped, but Cui's footsteps approached. Vegeta quickly surveyed his options and his dwindling ammo supply.

The door creaked open. He waited next to it, out of sight, heart pounding a thousand miles per hour. As the first footfall crossed the threshold, he kicked the door hard into Cui's face and emptied his magazine after.

Silence followed.

He waited, every muscle tensed, watching the smoke rise from the bullet holes in the door. After several seconds, and keeping to the side in case of retaliatory fire, he pulled the door open.

Cui was dead on the ground. Vegeta stepped over and took his MP5, strapping it across his shoulder before looking for anything else useful he could appropriate. He took two mags, a watch, and a radio. He compared their feet, but it was clear Cui's shoe size wasn't compatible.

"Nine million terrorists in the world and I've got to kill one with feet smaller than Bulma's."

He organized his equipment before heading towards the staircase to figure out his next move. He passed more Christmas decorations and slowed to a stop. An idea began to formulate.

~xox~

Ping!

The elevator opened on the thirtieth floor. One of the hostages looked over and started to scream.

"Get them back!" Frieza snarled. He hurried to the elevator and came to a sudden halt.

Cui's lifeless body slumped in an office chair, wrapped upright with Christmas lights. Something was scrawled on his sweater in red sharpie.

"What does it say?" he demanded.

Zarbon flicked his long ponytail over his shoulder before stretching out the sweater to better read the text aloud.

"Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho."

~xoXox~