Chapter 9: The Bellwether Traveler

"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire."

"Woman, I'll have you know that there will be what you refer to as 'payback' in your near future for these ridiculous garments. This outfit is befitting neither a Saiyan or a Prince and much less both,"

"It's literally the only thing I have left to let you borrow, unless you'd like to try on something of my father's?" She'd gotten enough enjoyment out of merely seeing Vegeta adorned in near-blinding neon.

The laughter had died down after a few empty threats from the flowery fighter, and Bulma had felt a sort of genuine contentment that pelted her gut. The Prince of all Saiyans was certainly still menacing at times, but the Z Gang was slowly coming around to see him the way she was. Her heart felt warmer than it ever had since the flame-haired man had left.

"I would not, upon pain of death, wear any of that old man's clothes," The seams were nearly ripping apart at the seams with the way that Vegeta's chest filled the hot pink shirt. The mission had clearly been a success in multiple ways, Bulma's thoughts skittered. After he turned away from her, azure irises couldn't help but travel down the well-muscled back, continuing even further downward.

Either Vegeta hadn't taken notice, or he was purposefully ignoring the burning that Bulma could feel in her cheeks, even in the mid-day sun. "Come. I have something to show you in the ship,"

Bright blue eyes lit up as the light form of Bulma Briefs easily and willingly followed the purger of planets into the dim ship. It was only after she was fully inside the hull that the memories of her dream came to the forefront of her mind.

He strode into the personal quarters of the ship on a mission and Bulma hesitated for a moment on whether or not to follow him. What could he possibly have to show her in there?

Before Bulma could make up her mind to follow the prince or not, he'd just as soon returned with a steel box in his hands. It was slightly larger than a shoebox, with reinforced sides. It seemed to be one of the specimen boxes that the research scientists used for keeping older remains in prime condition.

She regarded the box with curiosity, "What is it?"

"It's your souvenir, idiot," Ah, classic-Vegeta-comeback, oh how she had missed his cheery attitude.

A blue brow quirked in irritation, "That still doesn't answer my question, asshole. However, it's nice of you to have remembered,"

"I suppose you'll have to open it to find out. Although, I do believe that I was promised armor in exchange for a souvenir," His powerful hands rested easy on the sides of the box, deft fingers curled under the mysterious package.

What could it be? It could be a gadget from a faraway planet, or an organism for her to study. There was an insurmountable set of possibilities for what Vegeta had brought back from space… and Bulma's curiosity was getting the better of her, "Vegeta, please… Can't I open it now? Can't I just see what it is?"

For once, a scowl had not dressed itself on Vegeta's features, his strong brows were both raised as if he did not have the power to simply lift the lid and reveal her prize. "As I have yet to receive said armor…"

Her breath rushed out to meet his, "I swear on my life that your armor will be done by the end of the day tomorrow," What could it be, what could it be?

"Then you'll get to see it at the end of the day tomorrow, won't you?" That damned man was teasing her.

Frustration clearly written on her face as she blustered, "Vegeta! Come on!"

"Woman, you really are a brat,"

"You're not much better. Nothing more than a tormentor," Huffing as she made a show of crossing her arms and turning away from him.

A dark laugh rumbled from his throat, "Oh, I could be much, much worse. Believe me,"

Bulma had a dark thought glimmer through her mind as she smirked into her shoulder. Perhaps she could fluster him and just take a peek at her souvenir. "Oh really? How much worse?"

"If I told you, I'd be afraid of your little mind breaking. It's already so fragile as it is," He shifted the box to his right hand, lightly holding onto the box, his left arm hanging at his side.

Shifting her body to glance back at him, the heiress had a look of quiet determination upon her visage. Much like a graceful wildcat, long legs found their way back to standing in front of the Prince. A smile surfaced on her face, and with an open palm, her right hand lifted to maneuver the curve of Vegeta's jaw. He was on alert, onyx orbs watching her movements carefully, as if she were a bomb that could go off at any moment.

Chasing his jawline, her hand met the nape of his neck, and as Bulma's stare convened with a scorching gaze, she was acutely reminded of her dream. Her feet shifted onto tip-toe, her chest brushing against muscles, as her hand reached to run itself through fiery locks. A warm hand that touched her left hip caused a shiver to sprint up her spine.

Bulma angled her face towards Vegeta's, a pale pink tongue slipping into view to wet her lips. Less than a few inches apart, their faces sat as eyes stayed locked. Sound softer than breath escaped from her mouth.

"I think you'd find that I'm a lot tougher to break than you think,"

All the while that Bulma had been distracting the dark prince, her left arm had been acting out in solitude. It had wound its way through the air to rest upon the cool metal lid of her rightful souvenir. As fingers crept across the surface and reached victory upon hefting themselves over the side and pulling the lid away, Bulma's eyes flicked down to her reward.

Blue brows knitted together in confusion, "What is this? A box of rocks?"

"You insufferable wench…" The words billowed out of his mouth in contained heat, "That is all that remains of my people," Of all the things Bulma could have predicted, even if given a million chances, would it have been the remnants of a dead race. Vegeta's words had made it sound as if there was nothing else in the universe he would've brought her.

"Vegeta… Are you telling me… This is part of Planet Vegeta?" The thumping in her chest had partially calmed, but seized suddenly as she examined the crimson rocks settled in the box. A whisper of breath, "Oh, Vegeta…"

Her eyes, wide with wonder and appreciation, stared him down. "Are you sure?"

"I would not give it to you if I did not want to, moron. Besides, this may help you with understanding Saiyan physiology when creating more things for my benefit,"

"Thank you," She placed the lid back on the box, but threw her arms around Vegeta's neck. She had reacted too fast for him to suspect anything from her, and he tensed as her body pressed against his. This closeness was different from the moments prior. Her embrace was filling him with a feeling of safety.

It wasn't entirely unpleasant.

His body could feel the coolness of her skin seeping through the garments that she'd provided. As his muscles began to relax, a sensation overcame his mind, a crackle of energy flitted over his skin. The barest of brushes from an unknown strength that was hurtling towards Earth.

Was it Kakkarott? No, the third-class idiot gave off a sense of untainted vitality, this reeked of a familiar iniquity. Gathering a scrap of calm, Vegeta took a deep breath against the blue hair that was curling at his cheek. She smelled of lavender. Perhaps he'd focus on that pure scent

She pulled away after seeing that his body hadn't relaxed after a few moments of her nearness. "Sorry…"

He backed away willingly, glaring out of the ship's rounded windows. He set the steel box down on a surface by the main controls. "Freiza is coming,"

Had that been her gasping? The hand covering Bulma's mouth indicated that she'd clearly been the one to make the noise.

"What?"

Vegeta made no move to repeat himself, simply leaving the ship while staring at the sky.


Freiza had indeed come.

Somehow, Bulma hadn't been able to convince to take her with the rest of the group, so she'd had to find her own way to the rendezvous point. The heiress had entirely missed seeing the infamous Freiza and she wasn't about to let the opportunity pass her by again. She'd known when Vegeta had returned that he hadn't become a Super Saiyan. The mechanical genius, in all of her logical thought processes, decided to embrace the fact that she was facing the imminent death of her planet, there was no use in quivering in fear or futility.

Soon, the rest of the Z gang gathered in near silence; all awaited the arrival of Freiza. Each one had the thought in their mind: Was it possible the dragon had been wrong? Had Goku really died after all?

The ship, recognizable to some, landed with a smooth descent upon the Earth. The arrival of the vessel seemed to drain Bulma of all bravery, and she clung to the small frame of Puar. A wave of nausea overcame her, and she fell to her knees. Perhaps it wasn't all that important to look upon the face of a mass-murderer. Glancing over to peek at Vegeta, a thought skittered through her mind, if you've seen one mass-murderer, you've seen them all.

A few words from Vegeta and the entire group was slowly making their way to the landing site, just over a ridge of escarpments. After Yamcha's mental breakdown, everyone clambered over the rocks, attempting to stay out of sight, knowing that just below laid a monster of great destruction and terror.

Freiza had stepped out of the large ship, seemingly much worse for wear, as the icy demon was half machine. The cybernetics jarred against his pale flesh, jagged and partially revealing angry, puckered skin – though the engineering made Bulma nearly drool at the magnificence of a fully working cyborg. A larger, similar shaped alien followed him out of the metal hull. This one had horns and was accompanied by a more refined air, Bulma deduced it must be someone related to Freiza.

However, moments after Freiza had barked out a few orders to the men surrounding the frosty pair, the henchmen were in pieces. A singular man appeared in front of them, sheathing a large sword.

A feeling of déjà vu washed over Bulma as she stared at the man. He was certainly a young adult, perhaps even a teenager. His hair was a shade lighter than her father's, with eyes shining even brighter than her own orbs. He even wore clothes donning the Capsule Corporation logo. The only thing that seemed otherworldly about him was the sword strapped to his back. The expression on his face was one of determination, and as Bulma watched the young man, a calm eased its way into her heart.

She was sure that she'd never met someone like this soldier standing before their enemies, but he also seemed memorable in a way. A quiet prayer left her lips; Kami, please don't let this man – whoever he is – be killed. Keep him safe.

The young man didn't need her prayer after all. In fact, it might've been Freiza who could've used a prayer. The mysterious youth expertly handled the rest of Freiza's men, along with the larger alien and Freiza himself. Astounded, the Z gang had watched as a mere teenager had become a Super Saiyan of unparalleled power. The words fell unbidden from Gohan's mouth.

Most of the looks were shared among their group, expressions of awestruck wonder at how such a young guy could hold so much power in his hand. Yet, Bulma noticed most of all the look of reserved fury engraved upon Vegeta's face. He was furious.

The youth astounded the group further by powering down and turning his attention to them, cheerfully inviting them to come with him to meet none other than Goku. Questions whizzed through Bulma's mind, and the rest of the group seemed just as unwary at the invitation. After a short discussion, the Z Gang ended up following the purple-haired teenager to a location not too far away, still surrounded by dust and desert.

Cool as a cucumber, the young guy popped open a fridge capsule and offered everyone a cold soda. The change in his demeanor from a rigid determination to a cheery friendliness had piqued Bulma's interest. Either this young man was completely confident in his power or someone had told him that he could trust the whole Z Gang. Bulma was betting on the latter. Something seemed so familiar about him…

"Have we met?" She kept the question casual, so as to not alert him to her suspicions.

He simply shook his head, "Uh no, sorry…"

Gohan decided to chime in, "Excuse me mister, but how do you know my dad?"

"Actually, I haven't met your dad before, I've only heard of him before," He seemed at ease among the strangers.

Krillin spoke up this time. "Then how do you know he's going to arrive at this spot in two hours?"

A flustered blush crept up well-defined cheeks, nearly touching a pair of bright blue eyes, "Well… that's, uh… sorry, but I can't say,"

"Why not? I'll tell you!" Livid was not a word that Bulma would have used to describe someone's voice before, but Vegeta's certainly was livid. "Because you're up to something! Tell us now, tough guy, who are you?"

"I wish I could, sorry," The guy seemed apologetic to say the least.

Gohan piped up again, "When you defeated Freiza and that big guy, you were a super saiyan, weren't you?"

The mystery man was quiet when answering, "…Yes, yes I was…"

"That's a lie! Look, my friend, Kakkarott – the one you call Goku – and myself are the only saiyans left. Kakkarott's kid there is half-saiyan, so if you count him that makes three of us. There's no way that you could have Saiyan blood!" It sounded more like Vegeta was trying to convince himself than the man who stood in front of him. The fact that someone had attained his legendary – his legacy – his inheritance – once again before he had even grasped it in his hands – was unraveling the Prince of all Saiyans.

"Yeah, but we saw him! He just defeated Freiza and that huge guy all by himself!" Gohan's words only enraged Vegeta further, but the Prince had pulled his control tight over his seething emotions.

He scoffed with what he hoped was indifference, "I'm calling him a liar, not a weakling,"

Noting how tense and wound up Vegeta was turning out to be, Bulma decided to turn the conversation towards the fact that the purple-haired youth was wearing a capsule corporation jacket. That route ended up being a series of deflections and misdirected answers from the sword-wielding hero. The remainder of the time waiting on Goku was spent mostly in solitude.

There were a few moments where Bulma was afraid Vegeta would burst wide open and the younger man might have to contain him, but she also noticed how similar the two were. The jawlines, the eyebrow shape, even the way they sat was uncanny. Even Krillin agreed that they looked related. Plus, the secretive teen was glancing the Prince's way quite often.

After nearly another hour had passed, a small ding went off from where the mystery man was sitting. He stood, "That's it, two hours have passed. Goku should be arriving any minute now,"

Sure enough, the young man wasn't wrong, and within the minute, a spaceship almost identical to what Vegeta had first arrived in on Earth, landed only a few dozen yards away.

Goku emerged.


Time had stolen away from her.

She chased it like a rabid mongrel darting through bushes to catch a hare. She chased it with sharp metal and hot fire, she molded promises into products. The sun had caressed her face after she'd left everyone, still in shock of everything Goku had said the young man foretold.

A Heart Virus would take Goku's life.

The sunlight had dipped below the Earth, giving way to the moon's soft gaze. Still, she gave in to fear, working tireless on the project in her hands. Pulling azure tresses into a severe bun, sharp eyes scoured the pliant surface with meticulousness. Fingers brutally stretched the pure white, fitting it correctly, ensuring invulnerability. Slowly, as the moon sank, the ethereal figure took shape.

Androids would be unleashed on Earth by Dr. Gero.

She had to finish the pieces before morning came. Bulma had made a promise to the Prince of Saiyans. Now, with everything in jeopardy – her home, her family, her friends, her company – there was no time to waste. The genius had to do everything in her power to aid Vegeta in his endeavor to become Super Saiyan.

There were moments where she'd had to stop. Tears had threatened to impede her vision and she couldn't have that. Not when she had to finish. Fear was a subtle mistress, letting dark thoughts pass through her mind. What if everything she could do still wasn't enough? Even with the mysterious youth giving them the heart serum for Goku? What if they wouldn't be able to gain enough power? What if everything was for nought? What if her contributions really amounted to nothing?

That was when she would take a step back, sitting on a stool and putting her head between her legs. She would take deep breaths until the dizzying stream of conscious seemed to relax. The fear would not win. Bulma would be damned if nothing more than thoughts could cause her to collapse into a quivering damsel in distress.

When things would become too much to handle, the heiress would wander over to a particular steel box that had found its way into her lab, and she would pick up a dusty rock the hue of blood and tell herself she would be a survivor. She had always been a survivor.

Destruction of everything she knew and loved.

Hours had ticked by silently in the lab where time help the brilliant woman captive. At last, when the Sun came to greet her again, her work was complete. Rubbing her face, Bulma pushed stray locks behind her ears. The usual sharp glance had been dulled by hours filled with work instead of sleep. Her bleary vision looked over the suits of armor folded neatly and placed in a box with matching navy body suits. She'd made extra pairs of boots and gloves, packing them into a separate box.

Placing the small box of accessories onto the larger one, the door to her lab slid open. Bulma knew it was her mother coming to check on her, and would likely be upset to learn that she'd stayed up all night to finish a lab project.

"Mom, I swear that I'm going to bed," She let her hair fall from its messy bun, "I just have to drop this stuff off in front of Ve…" Turning, she noticed it was the Prince of all Saiyans himself, dressed in nothing more than the loose-fitting pants that he slept in.

"Vegeta…" His name left her lips much softer and huskier than she would have liked. Bulma attributed it to lack of sleep and long hours of work.

"Woman," He stood and as he stopped a few feet in front of her, his arms came up – almost robotically – to cross in front of his chest. "Your mother promised me many large stacks of pancakes in return for me dispatching you from this room,"

A smirk sat amused upon her mouth, "Pancakes? Is that all anyone needs to bribe you with in order to get you to do something for them?"

"I have been eating the same shit since I left this mudball. Your mother – who has become no less irritating, might I add – well, her cooking is the least horrific thing that Earth has to offer. I daresay that your cooking isn't up to par,"

A mock offense was taken by the blue-haired heiress, "Oh really? I think I'll forget about giving you a promised sum of armor and bodysuits for you to train in then. I mean, how can my meager gift of improved Saiyan armor stand up to such generosity from my mother?"

Vegeta scoffed, "I believe that this was an equal exchange, not a bribery. I procured a ridiculous souvenir for you as payment for armor that might – in fact – be nothing more than mediocre at best,"

"I'll have you know that this armor is fantastic!" Bulma shoved the small box back onto the lab table and opened the larger one, pulling out a shining chest-plate. "It's reinforced, more pliable and of higher quality than anything you had in the Planet Trade Organization, I can guarantee it!"

She threw the piece to him. Strong hands caught it deftly, dark eyes roving over the armor. His keen eyes seemed satisfied with Bulma's work, and he began to test the quality of it by stretching it with his hands.

"You'll defeat them, I know it. You have to," She hated how weak her voice sounded, both from lack of sleep and from fear of the unknown future.

He glowered at her, "I don't have to do anything. You have your Boy Scout, Kakarrott, to do your bidding. I am not subject to the petty whims and desires of a mere woman,"

"But you are staying to fight the androids, aren't you?" It was a question that Bulma didn't realize she wanted answered in the positive. If she had stayed up all night for Vegeta to simply up and leave, all this work would have been for nothing, all her precious time was wasted.

He answered in neither the positive or negative, but Bulma had the feeling that the Prince would be sticking around, if nothing more than to learn how Goku could harness such power. "If I have chosen to stay and fight, it is due to my own volition and desire for a challenge…" He trailed off, something crimson shining from the inside of the armor had caught his eye. "What is the meaning of this?"

A pale face, bejeweled by blue, cocked its head, "What are you referring to?" Her question of ignorance not quite believable.

The volatile Saiyan twisted the flexible armor until he was able to view the symbol. He was struck motionless as he stared at the blood-red seal of Saiyan Royalty. There it was, the entirety of his soul struck crimson, embedded in the armor that he was fated to wear. Merely an outer reflection of an inner turmoil that he'd been brewing over ever since he'd learned of Kakarrott becoming a Super Saiyan.

Bulma's brows knitted together in concern, "Did I get it right? I had to hand-paint them with a bonding polymer-alloy so it wouldn't interfere with the elasticity or durability of the armor… I'm sorry if some of the edges aren't completely straight,"

"Why did you do this?" His voice was hard, like a knife threatening to press against her throat. Bulma took a loud gulp of air before responding.

"W-What do you mean, Why?"

His hands fisted the fabric, twisting it viciously before letting it drop to the floor. "There must be some reason as to why you would brand my armor with a constant reminder of my failures. Why did you do this?"

"No, no-no, Vegeta. You've got it all wrong," She shook her head, eyes widening. "I wanted to do something for you to show you that…"

She looked away for a moment, glancing over at her prototype armor, picking it up. "Nevermind, forget it. I'll start over," She crumpled the feminine armor into her hands, eyes tired. She was too exhausted to fight the prince at the moment. It was easier to give in. She made a move to pick up the armor he had dropped on the floor.

"No, I demand to know what you thought this would achieve," Vegeta grabbed the armor that Bulma had made for herself, snatching it out of her hands. He stared down at it, noting that the same familiar patch of red was settled inside the chest-plate.

"I just wanted to show you that I'm on your side!" She huffed out, exasperated. "Okay? I just wanted to show you that I believe in you, despite everyone else. I don't care what everyone else says about you. I know you are the hardest working one out of the entire lot!"

Her form was shaking. The heiress had gone too long without food, without water, without sleep. Her mind was taking a nose dive into unconsciousness. Despite her body's protests, Bulma stepped towards Vegeta, grabbing onto her armor that was gripped in the Prince's hands.

"None of the others believe that you'll stay to fight the androids. They all think that you'll abandon us as soon as you're Super Saiyan. Show them wrong, Vegeta. Show them that you're better than them. Just make those androids suffer,"

The prince was shocked, appalled to say the least. Who was this woman to tell him what to do? He did nothing by command. He opened his mouth to tell her so…

Like a wild blue jay fluttering in a cage too long, Bulma's knees finally gave out. The unexpected lurching forward of the woman and Vegeta reacted instantly. He let go of the fabric and caught the mechanical genius. He pulled her into his arms, cursing her name. He ran his hand through blue tresses to reveal a face filled with dreamless sleep.

She must've passed out, Vegeta thought as he looked around. He noted random coffee cups littering the room that accompanied a larger amount of strewn papers. Now that he went through last night's events in his mind, he didn't recall seeing or hearing Bulma retire to her room. From the dark circles gracing the shadows beneath her sleeping eyes, she must've been awake all night.

His eyes darting at the armor that lay rumpled on the floor.

Careless, thoughtless, selfless woman.

A whisper left his mouth, which was resting against the shell of a pale ear. "I will make them suffer,"

They left the room in silence, one body carried by another.


Moles are nasty creatures.

They are silent and solitary, only interacting with others when necessary. They burrow deep underground, creating a network of connections that are unseen until it's too late and the numerous holes and tunnels have you collapsed under the weight of the Earth itself.

This particular mole had been surveying his current objective for the past half a year. Capsule Corporation was certainly larger than a molehill.

This spiny, slithering mole had to implement the plan flawlessly. Thankfully after watching and detailing the staff that came to and from the entire building, the spy understood the workings of Capsule Corporation like a well-oiled machine.

The President and Vice President had very similar working hours, along with their staff. The R&D Labs had more flexible hours, but getting clearance into those areas wouldn't be a problem since he knew the preferred working times of each team and their leaders. Orchestrating his arrival and departure times was a breeze after learning the working habits of the higher ups in C.C.

Now, all that was left was to put the actual plan into motion. Once inside the network, the mole would have free-range of all the information going to and from the Research and Development Laboratories. There, the spy was sure to uncover something interesting and valuable enough to pass onto his benefactors.

The only question that was left in the spy mind was:

When to pull the trigger and put the plan into motion?


A/N: Oh My Goodness, Oh My Dayum. I'm terribly sorry for getting this out so late. I had the entire chapter with the exception of the second to last scene done for a full two weeks. Then I had to travel one last time for work, I was in Florida all of last week. I shouldn't have any more interruptions for quite a while.

And for those of you who go back and rewatch episodes, I did change how a few events happened. I'll be doing that in the future as well, reordering things in a way that makes more sense to me. Oh, and aren't we excited for the smaller arcs in the story to really get started now? Our underlying antagonist is almost ready to make his move. And Oh My God, did a lot happen in this chapter. Hence it's length!

Fun fact: I loved the fact that Freiza came back in the series. It was such a surprise to so many people, and it was a brilliant move on Toriyama's part. He's certainly my favorite villain. Well, other than when Vegeta is evil. Majin Vegeta is a total hottie.