Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, and sadly none of the characters from it are mine either.
Warnings: bad language, adult situations… heed the rating.
Prompt: Touch.
Summary: No matter how far or how fast you run, the past always catches up to you.
Special thanks to Erica for being awesome and a great beta.
Dangerous Liaisons
Chapter X:
Vegeta leaves Bulma with a new force pushing him forward. Now that he knows someone else has all the vital pieces too, there's no time to waste; the image of Gure, burnt and disfigured, is proof that Frieza is being thorough while cleaning up in his own special way. It's only a matter of time before the loose ends have him knocking at their door. Just the thought alone of Frieza and his goons anywhere near the restaurant is enough to have him growling at nothing in particular and by the time he reaches his room, he has managed to work himself into quite a rage.
The door closes behind him with a bang. Sidestepping the mess on the floor, he takes his jacket off with unnecessary force, sending it flying through the room to fall randomly onto a lamp. The armpit holster is the next to receive his lashing out, missing the bed by a few inches and landing on the floor; the butt of his Berretta clanging resolutely against it and cracking irreparably, but he doesn't care. He is set on getting to his closet and gearing up to leave, the call to fight has awoken in him and there will be no stopping until its bloodlust is sated.
Discarding his wife beater to the side, he throws the closet doors open and crouches in front of them, muscles rippling in agitation, as he reaches for the chest at the very back, hidden inside under random boxes and clothes. It's not until he has it before him that he finally slows down, the family crest carved in blood red at the top of it, making him pause as always. It's a little reminder of everything he once was and everything he should have been; just another reason to add fire to the burning hatred he has for the Colds.
Tracing the outlines of the symbol, a kind of fractured anchor with stocks forming a V and a straight arrow down the centre, completed by a shortened shank divided in two, separate from the crown and flukes, he is face to face with the core reason that has him diving right into what Bulma, and everyone else, has dubbed as a suicide mission.
He is loyal, maybe to a fault, to those few he cares about, and he has a promise to uphold where his brother is concerned. But make no mistake, he is no hero, and even less a martyr; the truth of the matter is that things with Frieza go deeper than that. He has a score to settle and a question to answer. Since that day when his father decided that at the tender age of thirteen he was old enough to work alongside him for the Colds, then went and got himself and most of his men killed, leaving Vegeta and the few remaining members of the Saiyan organization under the control of a full-fledged psychopath, he has been biding his time. Waiting patiently until he could have his revenge.
He let the opportunity slip once and it came back to bite him in the ass; he won't do it again, this time it's all or nothing, freedom or death.
Unlocking the chest, he takes a black and grey bulletproof padded shirt from it and puts it on, strapping a cross-draw SpecGear Truss holster on top along with his chromed Desert Eagle .50 and a few extra chargers. His old Glock G26 goes into his left boot and a Ralph DDR pocketknife into his right. All that's missing is the little medallion in the shape of his crest, chipped and stained with his father's blood. Once he has it around his neck, he throws a red and black biker jacket on and he's ready to go.
He grabs a hefty wad of cash from his safe and is about to leave, when the black box laying glaringly on the floor makes him stop. He bends down and picks it up, rolling it in his hands for a moment before throwing it unceremoniously into the trash. He was a fool to keep it, for he should have known better; men without a future can't hold onto diamond-encrusted hope and what- ifs.
Closing the door behind him, he goes down to the bar, unsurprised to find that Turles and Raditz are the only ones left there, silently nursing a couple of beers in the dark. Goku and Chi-Chi are probably taking Gohan to stay with his grandfather; Roshi is surely back at his usual spot meditating about everything, and Bulma… he can't presume to know anymore when it comes to her.
"Leaving so soon?" Turles' voice intercepts him on his way out. "I didn't know you were so eager to die."
He is pissed, Vegeta can see that clearly. The fact that he is leaving all of them out of the loop hasn't set well with him. Despite their many differences, and the fact that their personalities clash more often than not, their history binds them together, and Frieza is a sore spot for him too.
"So little faith in me, Turles. You wound me," he answers him, leaning for a moment against the bar, arms crossed against his chest and head tilted to a side in mocking fashion. Raditz sends a warning glance his way, but he ignores it; he knows what he is doing.
"You are being stupid, careless," Turles tells him seriously, not appreciating his light-headedness at all. "And you are going to bite more than you can chew."
"Don't worry, I have a big mouth."
"Screw you Vegeta!" He yells slamming his bottle of beer on the bar, having no patience for Vegeta's games. "This is Frieza we are talking about, and you stand there making cheeky comments? Did you forget what he is capable of, what he did to us?"
"What he did to us?" Vegeta parrots, seizing the opportunity to push him away. "If my memory doesn't fail me, you had a great time being a carjacker, playing the leader to those Highway pirates, roaming the country as you pleased, while I was the one that had to stay close to that freak and pay for all your mistakes and acts of rebellion."
Turles shakes his head from side to side, a bitter smile adorning his face. "So that's how you want to play it? He asks him rhetorically, inwardly smarting from the low verbal blow, "Frieza is my problem too, and you can't go against him alone."
"So what?" Vegeta counters, "I should take you with me?"
"Yes, that's exactly what you should do."
"And why would I want a weakling like you with me? I already have a vest, I don't need you to catch the bullets, and that's all you will be good for."
"You think you are invincible, just like your father," Turles tells him darkly, "but we saved your ass more than once."
Vegeta is impervious to his words and just gives him a shrug and a smirk, making him fume. Seeing as he is not making any progress with him, and needing a reaction, Turles seeks his brother's support. "He is going to get himself and all of us killed, aren't you going to say anything?"
Raditz looks at him for a second, "No," he answers curtly and then goes back to his beer.
"Fine!" he says, standing up, his short fuse blown to smithereens. "Have it your way, just don't expect me to come to your rescue when everything explodes in your face." He spits at Vegeta before storming out of the restaurant.
They both watch him leave silently, and then Vegeta turns curious eyes to Raditz. He doesn't have to say a word before the other man is speaking. "I know you Vegeta," Raditz tells him evenly, "If you think there's no other way, there's no changing your mind. I trust your judgment."
He gives him a nod, a little surprised by his reaction, but then again, Raditz is nothing if not realistic. They relate that way and it's one of the principal reasons why he is the one in their little gang he is the closest with.
"There isn't," he reaffirms him, sitting for a second on the stool beside him and reaching for Turles' unfinished beer. "If the gang gets involved, the only thing they'll accomplish is to further the body count."
"So, we don't get our noses in your business, gotcha," Raditz says and gives him a pointed look, "Turles is out for the time being, just like you wanted, but I'm not sure it'll be so easy to deter the others."
"Goku and his harpy should be a walk in the park," Vegeta shrugs it off, thankful for the opening he provided and not wanting to miss the chance. "I need you to promise me something."
"Promise you what?"
"That you will keep the woman out of this. You are the only one I can trust with her." Vegeta tells him; finishing his beer and turning to leave, missing the way he flinches at his words.
Raditz is hard pressed to find a way to swallow the mouthful of beer around the knot in his throat, but manages to compose himself remarkably fast. "I will," he promises him.
"Good," Vegeta says and starts walking towards the door. There is no need to explain or to say goodbye, no time for unnecessary words between them.
He steps out to the street and wastes no time before climbing onto his bike. He has already kick started it when he feels the unmistakable burning sensation of someone's gaze on his back. Instinctively locating the source, his eyes clash with two azure pools staring at him sombrely from the top window, silently compelling him to stay. He pauses for just a second, then shakes off her spell and speeds away anyway.
The trip to 18's takes him over two hours, and the sun is already setting by the time he parks his bike behind her apartment building, a modern construction, grey and soulless just like its inquilines.
The steps creak under his weight as he climbs the stairs towards her home, gun drawn and senses on high alert. He reaches her door and is readying himself to kick it open, when the handle turns and saves him the effort, freezing him on the spot.
It's not an exuberant blonde what greets him; instead, he is met with a pair of red-rimmed eyes and purple-coated lips pulled into a predatory smile.
"Hello Vegeta, long time no see."
.
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