A/N: Guess who's baaaaaaa~aaaaack... Me! XD But seriously, I kept you guys waiting again! DX (I had writer's block and I wanted to finish this other V/B one-shot I wrote a while back...you should read it o3o) Okay, moving on, time to answer reviews...
VBSaiyan Princess - Your welcome :3 I'll try to have them interact more (which is impossible for them not to, they share the same room XD), but I don't want to rush right into the moment where- *gets mouth taped shut* Uh, yeah, anyways, I'll try to update as fast as I can and make that chapters longer! (Speaking of which, this chapter is over 4k. Woo!)
VB enforcer - Y U no logged in? D: Ha, jk jk XD Thanks! Speaking of Bulma being crazy, she'll be doing more stuff in the future in which more people think she's even more insane! (That's not good at all...). And that's true, she didn't have a phone with her...what was she thinking!?
The Tainted Heart Of Vegeta - Thank you~ :3 It's fun writing a jealous or curious Veggie XD
Nova.81 - Merci! ;D (Aaaaand, that's all the French I know DX) A good V/B fight is always enjoyable (imagine if somebody walked in on them and, of course, they don't see Ghost!Vegeta...). As for the secretary and her parents, they're not the only ones who'll be questioning her sanity...
DBZRock153 - In due time, in due time :)
NNP - Soon, very soon...
KimiruMai - And Vegeta says: "I will NOT!"
Disclaimer : BATTLE OF GODS IS COMING TO US THEATERS IN AUGUST! YEAH! Anyways, I don't own Dragon Ball, Z, or GT in any, way, shape, or form... Geez, I need to calm down...
For future reference, being that there will be a lot of dust in this chapter, dust is really made out of dead skin cells... D: So, if I haven't grossed you out, read on! :)
The soft sunlight of early morning bled through the curtains, coating the room in a faint pastel pink. Bulma snored softly, her mouth parted slightly, a bead of drool stuck at the corner of her lips. A peaceful expression adorned her face. However, for a moment, her face furrowed, a frown forming, and Bulma shifted a bit, snuggling closer to the thing lying next to her. A barely audible huff…
Eventually, the heiress groggily opened her eyes.
"About time you woke up, Little One," a masculine voice breathed into her ear. Bulma blinked a couple times, attempting to rid the crusty, sandy substance in her eyes. Her gaze focused on the body next to her.
Vegeta…?
The man was lightly drumming his fingers on his chest, his features placid, yet slightly uncomfortable. Vegeta's eyes were glued to the ceiling.
Bulma blinked again.
"You slept through your alarm," he explained quietly, never sparing her a glance. "Your mother came in and assumed you were ill, so she called you in—which is pretty pointless," grumbled the ghost, "when your father is the boss…"
Blink.
Vegeta continued, "Your father left for work a few hours ago and your mother left for this 'knitting-what's-it club'…" He blew out a puff of air through his mouth. How much longer was she going to lie next to him…?
Bulma turned over to glare at her digital clock disbelievingly. The red numbers glared right back: 10:30 AM. She scowled and turned back over. "Why didn't you wake me?" she inquired crossly, sitting up.
Vegeta grunted, his fingers continuously fluttering over his heart region. "You were out like a light, Little One—no matter how much I nudged you."
"Great," Bulma grumbled, exasperated, crossing her arms. She blew the blue bangs out of her face. "I'm practically considered dead to the dead. Ooh, joy."
Vegeta remained silent to that remark.
Sighing, Bulma glanced jadedly out the window, which was partially covered with the curtain, catching glimpses of the lively town. People frolicked along the streets, chatting about various things and enjoying the blissfully warm day. She noticed some citizens casting wary glances at her house, and she could even swear she saw someone glare at her directly. Bulma froze and she thought her heart stopped.
Vegeta looked at her, frowning. "Little One, what's wrong?"
Bulma shook her head, banishing the feelings of dread to the depths of her mind, and turned to smile reassuringly at her roommate. "Nothing…nothing's wrong." He narrowed his eyes, skeptical. "I'm gonna take a shower," she declared, getting out of bed hurriedly. Bulma dug some clothes out of the closet and headed towards her bathroom.
The door slid shut and Vegeta heard the water turn on. He sighed. Tentatively, the apparition removed himself from the bed and shuffled over to the window, curious and concerned. He pushed the curtains aside, letting in the morning sunlight, and gazed upon the people out-and-about. They wore clothes that were foreign to him—women don't wear dresses all the time? He thought it was just Bulma…-and had out outrageous hair styles—like he was the one to talk…
Vegeta sighed again and pressed his hands and forehead against the glass. He longed to go outside, feel the wind on his face and the sun on his skin and the grass beneath his feet…
But he couldn't and probably never would—he was trapped here, in this house, doomed to a forever lonely life, er, death? Heck, he couldn't even leave the room; although, that was caused by something psychological. "Huhh…"
They all look so happy…
Had he been more observant, he would have noticed that if the sun hit him just right, a silhouette of himself could be seen from a passerby's point of view. One person, who was already suspicious of the house, caught sigh of the phantom, but only for a second before it disappeared.
Her hazel eyes narrowed.
…
The hot water beat down on Bulma's chest as she stared thoughtfully at the showerhead, her tiny reflection gazing back at her with a composed look on its face. Bulma sighed softly, flicking her soaked marine locks over her shoulder. It had been a strange past couple days to say the least, meeting a ghost and all and finding out your home had been the site of a gruesome murder and all. How many days had it been anyways? She had lost track because of being so absorbed into the murder mystery.
Bulma closed her eyes. Speaking of which, even though she had discovered Vegeta's means of death and name, there was one thing in this case she had yet to crack…
Who murdered Vegeta and his family?
The heiress suspected that whoever had committed such an immoral crime was probably a warped version of the shadowy demon that had plagued her in her nightmares. Bulma vaguely remembered the articles stating that, although there were many suspects, no one was ever arrested for the murder. No concrete evidence had turned the tables in the police's favor, leaving the case cold. She figured that no one had bothered to reestablish an investigation, seeing as the majority of the population was against "stirring up angry spirits".
Bulma opened her eyes. She could ask Vegeta, but for all she knew, the event could've gone to quick for him to catch a glimpse of his attacker's face, or trauma had rendered his memory useless.
Besides, he might be uncomfortable talking about the subject—Bulma was sure as heck she would be.
Noticing that her skin was getting pruned, Bulma reached out for the knob and shut the shower off.
…
Vegeta softly bit his lower lip and looked nervously out into the hallway, digging his nails into his palms. The vwrrrring sound coming from Bulma's bathroom was obnoxious and rang blaringly in his ears. He wished that they had invented something quieter…
The ghost swallowed loudly, poking his head out the door, glancing left and right. Do I dare?
"Vegeta, what're you doing?"
He jumped. The ghost turned, startled, to see the blue-eyed heiress standing behind him in a t-shirt and jeans. She stared at him curiously, blinking.
"Uh…" Vegeta grunted.
Bulma tilted her head, causing her hair to shift to the side, and she pursed her lips, arching a thin, teal brow. "Something wrong?" she inquired.
Vegeta frowned. "No."
Moving past him, Bulma ventured out into the hall, hands on her hips. She peered both ways, and then averted her gaze from the halls back to him. "You sure?"
His frown deepened into a scowl. "I'm sure," he forced out irritably.
Bulma did not look convinced in the slightest, but seemed to brush it off, saying, "Well, anyways, I was hoping to do more research on you and your family—pardon the creepiness of that…" Vegeta shrugged casually. "But the internet can only provide so much personal information, without discrepancies arising, so…"
Vegeta arched an eyebrow. "What are you implying, Woman?"
She shot him an annoyed look, but continued, "When we first moved in, I did some scouting around the house—"
"Detective, much?" Vegeta interrupted, mildly amused.
"Let me finish," the woman grit out, her eyes alit with fire. She huffed crossly, calming herself. "Anyhow, I found part of a wall by my parents' room that was plastered differently than the rest."
"So?"
"So, there's a window, when viewed outside, that's placed just under the room of this house, and if my theory is correct, this house has an attic."
Vegeta stayed silent for a moment; eventually, he mumbled, "Yes…"
Bulma smiled triumphantly. "Then, behind that plaster is the stairwell that leads up there! Am I right?"
"Yes…"
"Then it's settled!" she cried, pounding her fist into her open palm. "I'll bust through that wall and see if any of your family's possessions were moved up there! I'll go get some tools!" Bulma raced off before Vegeta could finish his protest.
"But, Little One—"
"Be right back!"
Vegeta groaned in defeat and clenched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. This…was a very bad idea…
…
Bulma barged into the garage, a determined and excited look on her beautiful face. She would be the first to admit that she was ecstatic about this! Even though Bulma had always (and always would) have a knack for science and inventing things, her inner self had a soft spot for mysteries, especially if the mystery was within her own house. She remembered the days when she was a little girl, scouting out for suitable mystery fiction material in the school library. It was a fascinating time, and now, she could finally solve her own mystery! With the help of the victim of this murder mystery, of course.
The heiress quickly rummaged through her father's mini workshop for any sort of tool to help tear down the plastered over door. Her dainty hands tore through drawers and cabinets—Bulma was happy to find a pair of dirty work gloves and safety goggles. "Now where did Daddy put that—aha!" she cried out with joy, catching hold of a yellow stick. Attached to the hard yellow rod was a metallic object that was almost brick-like in shape, but more cylindrical at its ends. A black rubber grip clothed the elongated rod's end.
"This sledgehammer should do nicely!" Bulma proclaimed cheerily. Temporarily, the woman placed the hammer on the workshop desk to grab a belt. She fastened the work belt around her waist and Bulma slipped the sledgehammer into a leather loop on the belt's left side. The hammer proved to be a bit hefty to the heiress, but Bulma ignored it and finished putting anymore necessary tools into the belt's pockets. She slipped the work gloves over her pristinely clean hands and snapped the safety goggles in places over the crest of her head; she then quickly tied her hair up into a messy ponytail.
Clapping her hands together, Bulma proclaimed, "Let's go!"
…
Vegeta awkwardly stood at the bedroom's entrance, his eyes still fixed on where the young woman had been. He blinked a couple times as he tried to process what was going on. Surely she wasn't really going to—
"Hey, Vegeta!"
The phantom raised his head quizzically, eyeing the boisterous heiress with a critical gaze. Her cerulean hair was sloppily, yet attractively, swept up into a high ponytail and some sort of weird rubber glasses were strapped around the crest of her head. Gloves—that oddly were the same color as his waistcoat—covered her dainty hands and were stained with oil and other grime; around her waist, there was a leather belt adorned with different tools of the trade, including a sledgehammer. At the sight of her work getup, Vegeta made an odd expression, his nose crinkling and his eyebrows knitting.
Guess she was serious about this…
"Well, c'mon, Veg-head!" the girl said expectantly. The ghost looked at her, clueless. Bulma huffed. "Don't give me that look…you know very well what I mean." Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her.
"…I'd rather not go," he answered sourly.
"'I'd rather not go'…" grumbled the woman under her breath, her impersonation of him failing miserably. "Bullcrap, you don't."
"I don't," Vegeta repeated forcefully, his face reddening. "Sweat" was beginning to appear in tiny beads on his forehead. Being the genius she was, Bulma took note of this.
Can ghosts really sweat? Bulma wondered. She shook her head, sighing.
"Look, if it's about that 'Veg-head' nickname—"
Vegeta scoffed, "It's not that, but if you would be so kind to refrain from calling me that, I would ever so gladly appreciate it." He turned away, crossing his arms.
Bulma copied him, giving him the evil-eye look. "Fine, Vegeta, let's go."
"I told you," he snapped, "I'm not coming!"
"Why not?!"
"Because I don't want to!"
"I need a better reason than that, Ghost Man!"
"That a good enough reason, Woman!"
"No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is!"
"No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is!" Vegeta face Bulma angrily.
"LIKE HECK IT IS!" Bulma screeched back.
Vegeta was rendered speechless by the woman's outburst, any words were caught in his throat, and hunched his shoulders defensively. There was no way to change her mind, he saw, for she felt too strongly learning about his past life. Once Bulma had set her mind on something, there was no chance of diverting her course, this he had discovered well in the past few days. Even with the unveiling of his gruesome death at the hands of a "monster"—to him, at least—and the nightmares that plagued her the night thereafter, she was still raring to study the murder case. He realized that this was mostly—alright, all—his fault. If only he had just told her this name right off the bat, she wouldn't have dug deeper into the case, then she wouldn't have the nightmare reflecting his death, and then she wouldn't want to investigate his personal life—okay, that sounded weird…—and then they'd have lesser chances of running in Shadow Children…
Bulma's eyes softened when she noticed that her roommate had suddenly zoned out. His onyx eyes were glazed over, otherworldly, but still full of life—thankfully, she sighed in relief. Vegeta's position had relaxed slightly, but he still seemed rigid, defensive as thoughts bombarded his brain.
What could he be thinking about? Bulma thought curiously.
The woman took a few steps back, casting thoughtful glances down the halls. To her right, she could faintly see the old stain in the rug, and with the knowledge of this house's history, that was no doubt Vegeta's little brother's blood. Her blue brows furrowed. Didn't the article say that he was eighteen when he died? The poor guy had so many years ahead of him…
Then, to her left, Bulma narrowed her eyes at the end of the hallway, the exact spot where she would demolish the wall. Off to the side of that, was the door to her parents' room. Come to think of it, when Bulma had finally caught a glimpse of the couple's bedroom, she saw faded rosy stains on the white pillows and sheets, and it seemed her parents' were oblivious to it—or they didn't let it bother them. This house was admittedly charming to any eager homeowner to-be, so it would be easy to be snagged in a lying real estate agent's trap.
Red paint, my butt, Bulma sneered inwardly.
Bulma shook her head, sighing, and took a step towards Vegeta, reaching out her hand. "Vegeta?" She placed a hand on his shoulder. It oddly felt cold… The ghost raised his head to look at her blankly. "Have…have you ever been out of this room?"
Vegeta blinked slowly, processing her words. He moved his head side to side in reply.
"Hm…" Bulma rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her eyes falling to the floor. "Is it because of the mirror?"
"Not…entirely." Vegeta gestured faintly to the window. "As far as I know, I can't go outside…but, I think I can go to any part of the house."
"Well, great!" Bulma's eyes brightened. "Then there should be no trouble going to the attic!"
"But, Bulma—!" Vegeta protested, waving his hands in front of him.
"C'mon, Vegeta!" The woman's hand gripped Vegeta's arm and dragged him with surprising strength out of the bedroom, guiding him towards the sealed off wall. To Vegeta, it felt like all the breath in him was sucked out. He was frozen, willing himself not to look back, and he let Bulma tow him towards the end of the hallway.
Don't look back, don't look back, don't back…
"See? It's not so bad!" Bulma cheerfully proclaimed.
"E…Easy for you to say…" Vegeta croaked out.
…
Vegeta and Bulma stood in front of the discolored wall at the hall's end, studying it. The wall was a much brighter white than its adjacent walls—Bulma inwardly compared it like a florescent light bulb and regular candlelight. She smiled at her silly comparison and chuckled inwardly.
"Are you positive that this is a good idea?" Vegeta inquired skeptically, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His charcoal eyes scanned the plastered wall, imagining a doorway revealing a wooden staircase leading to the attic. Despite all those years trapped in a mirror, Vegeta could still picture exactly how his family's home looked like. Simple, yet elegant, was the touch his mother—Vegeta saddened at the thought of the beautiful woman—gave to the house, along with a few of her paintings that she hung throughout the house.
And, one look into the master bedroom, he was instantly flabbergasted at how different it was. It was decorated extravagantly, and everything screamed feminine-dominant.
Vegeta sweat-dropped. Wha…What else has that crazy blonde done with the rest of my house?
He was thankful that Bulma had stayed with the original feel in their—no, no, no, his? Hers? Scratch that—the bedroom. The only girly things were the bedspread—pink…ugh—and a few decorations that could be easily removed. Plus she changed his old art studio into a bathroom, but he could let that slide…
Vegeta ruefully found himself wondering if they moved some of his arts into the attic before the Briefs bought the house.
"Positive," Bulma answered, a determined light glimmering in her azure orbs. "For the fifth time, Vegeta, I'm positive!" Vegeta snorted and scowled.
"What about your parents? Are you not a bit worried about what they'll say when they see a giant hole in the wall?"
"Naw," Bulma said nonchalantly, brushing the worry off like it meant nothing.
"Why not?"
"My parents are laidback, 'Geta. They'd just ask me why I did it, I'd explain, and they'd go about their merry way like I told them I simply saw a spider."
Vegeta arched an eyebrow. 'Geta?
"Heck," Bulma joked, laughing, "they probably wouldn't care if I got pregnant from some random guy I met! Mom would just be happy she'd get a grandchild!"
Vegeta gaped at her like she was insane, his left eye twitching comically.
The heiress rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Oh, wipe that look off your face. It's not like I sleep with every guy who hits on me."
I would kill the whelp who even dared… Vegeta growled heatedly.
"Alright!" Bulma brought the safety goggles down over her eyes, smirking, and she removed the sledgehammer from her belt. She gripped the handle tightly. "Let's get down to business."
"You're going to break down a wall with that little thing?" Vegeta asked, frowning. "You'll hit you knuckles on the wall…"
"Oh, contraire my dear ghostly friend, for the handle…is extendable!" sang the heiress triumphantly, the yellow rod clicking into its second position when she pulled the opposite ends away.
Vegeta fell over.
"Okay! Here goes!" Bulma, holding the handle tightly in her hands, swung at the wall, and the hammerhead dug itself deep into the wall. Snarling faintly, Bulma ripped it back out, bringing bits of drywall with her. "Whoa!" The force of the hammer tugged her backwards into Vegeta. He luckily caught her on instinct.
"Clumsy woman," he remarked slyly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
Finding her footing once again, Bulma padded back towards her projected and started delivering more punctures into the wall. She paused to peek through the growing opening. "Hey! I see stairs!" Vegeta nodded slightly. "Vegeta, help me!" Bulma set the sledgehammer off to the side and began to tear away the loose drywall. Sighing in defeat, Vegeta moved to help her with the project.
After a few minutes off tearing away the wall, a large enough opening was made for a person to fit through. Bulma coughed and swatted the dust away, removing the goggles from her eyes. "Okay, now that that's done and over with." She fished out a flashlight from one of the belt pockets and turned it on. Vegeta cocked his head. Cautiously, Bulma slipped through the makeshift doorway and headed towards the stairwell, stopping to look at Vegeta. "Well? You coming?"
Vegeta swallowed and followed her, uneasiness growing in his stomach like a bothersome weed.
…
The old, wooden stairs made loud, eerie creaks each time Bulma placed her foot on one, giving her goose bumps along her ivory skin. The heiress's brows furrowed, gaining confidence from the entity that lagged behind her, thinking of it as her personal guardian angel, and pushed on.
Vegeta, her guardian angel? As weird as it sounded, it fitted.
"Are we almost there?" she questioned, brushing the array of cobwebs aside. The dark stairwell was silent, giving Bulma another chill.
"Yes," responded the baritone voice behind her. The sound soothed her greatly; it was nice to not be alone, even thought she couldn't hear his movements. She nodded.
The darkness was slowly, finally giving way to faint natural light up ahead. Bulma smiled hopefully, relief filling her chest, and she and her ghost companion reached their destination.
The small, semi-circular window shed the attic in quiet sunlight, cutting the room in half with a beam of sun. Particles of dust danced within the spotlight, like they were putting on a show for the two beings that had disturbed the silence.
Bulma shined her own artificial light around the attic, she glimpsed at old chests and boxes shoved up against the wall to their right. Barely, but noticeable, the light spotted a thin, rusty chain hanging down from the ceiling. The curious woman tentatively walked towards it, the floorboards creaking beneath her, giving her the foreboding feeling that she would fall through at any moment.
But, he'd catch me…wouldn't he?
Vegeta trailed behind her, refusing to let her be any farther than three feet, and he cast wary glances about. He had a feeling that they were being watched.
A soft click was made when Bulma gently tugged on the chain and an old light bulb hanging next to the chain fizzled to life. It flickered in protest weakly, but managed to stay lit to make the room brighter.
After all these years… Bulma thought in awe, it still works. She shivered a bit.
Averting her attention from the mysterious bulb, Bulma looked at the old chests, suspecting them to be where the late family's belongings were stored. She trotted over to them and knelt down. Vegeta followed her closely.
Bulma pursed her lips wonderingly, and she attempted to heave the nearest chest open. The rusty, iron hinges groaned when they were forced to move once again, the lid stubbornly being opened. The detective was met with a cloud of dust. Bulma's body snapped back as the dirt and dead skin particles flew out in a plume, causing her to have a coughing and sneezing fit.
"Yeesh! This place could use a major spring cleaning!" she exclaimed heatedly, rubbing her nose. "Achoo!" Vegeta grunted in slight amusement. Bulma leaned forward once again, carefully removing some of the chest's contents. "But, it's weird…I haven't seen any mold up here yet…" she murmured to herself. Vegeta glanced around.
Huh, she was right.
Old books were being stacked to the side for Bulma to read, and the heiress pulled out a couple old pictures that were faded and discolored, but still managed to retain the original photo. Feeling she had enough, Bulma began her search. Vegeta kept his eye on her, his posture steadfast, and only spared a glance away when he sensed something.
Bulma held a picture of Vegeta's parents in her hands. It appeared to be the oldest of the photos, its paper yellowed severely and its ink nearly faded. Bulma had to squint to see it. Mrs. Ouji was seemingly in a beautiful white dress that resembled a ball gown; the fabric hugged her slender arms and her thin torso, accenting her curvaceous figure. A gorgeous floral veil adorned her head, her hair elegantly curled and pinned up. Once again, Bulma was reminded how beautiful the Ouji mother was.
Vegeta Ouji, Sr. stood next to her in a simple black tuxedo, and the suit hardly tried to hide the man's muscular physique. He was a rather handsome man, Bulma observed, and she absently pointed out where the Vegeta with her got his good looks from. She hurriedly pushed that thought away, blushing faintly.
This was their wedding picture… Bulma realized fondly. Wow…
Vegeta checked over her shoulder and saw the photo. His eyes softened and he smiled faintly.
She gingerly put the picture away and grabbed another. In this one, Mrs. Ouji was clearly pregnant, her stomach swollen heavily. Bulma smirked.
Veggie's on his way~…
Vegeta looked and saw her smirk. He inwardly groaned when he guessed what she was thinking.
In the next picture, Mr. Ouji was back with Mrs. Ouji once again. This time, the lovely woman was holding a small newborn baby. Oddly enough, the young child looked exactly like his senior and seemed to be glaring at the once-was camera, its chubby features contorted into a scowl.
Bulma sighed out adoringly, "Aw…"
Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning.
The woman chuckled at the ghost's behavior and quickly chose another picture. This time, Vegeta was older (but still scowling) and he awkwardly held a younger child, who was obviously looking more chipper than its senior, gripping the elder's clothes.
That must be Tarble! Bulma thought. Holy crap, this is so precious! She silently squealed.
Vegeta wondered what she was happy about now and he unsurely looked at the photo. He frowned, something resembling hurt welling up in his throat, choking him. Tarble…
Bulma continued rummaging throughout the crates, finding more about Vegeta's life. Mostly, the boxes held old clothes and other assorted belonging, while the first chest she had opened had pictures and books.
Blowing out an exhausted puff of air, Bulma sat back. "Gosh, Vegeta…" she said, turning towards him. "You had a lot of stuff!"
Vegeta rolled his eyes. "We were rich. What else did you expect."
"Oh, ha, ha." Bulma stuck her tongue out.
"Careful. You might eat some dust."
"Jerk."
"Banshee."
The heiress smiled, giggling. Vegeta arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing." Bulma shook her head. "Anyhow…" She faced the smallest box out of all of them and reached to pick it up. Bulma placed the box in her lap and slowly removed the lid, hoping to not get blasted by a plume of dust again.
It was filled with yellowing paper, the corners of most of the pages eaten away. "What are these?" she wondered aloud and removed the top one. "Drawings?"
Vegeta bit his lip and embarrassedly looked away.
"Hey! They're signed!" exclaimed the blue-haired woman in surprise.
"Um…yay?"
Narrowing her eyes, Bulma struggled to read the harshly faded signature. The writing was elegantly written in cursive-like print. "V…get… Ou…i… Vegeta Ouji, I'm guessing?" she remarked covertly, glancing at him. "Is somebody more artsy than they let on?"
"Shut up," Vegeta retorted, his cheeks a heavy crimson.
Bulma laughed.
The light suddenly went out.
"Crap! Stupid light! Vegeta, where are you?"
"Right here, Woman. I haven't moved."
"Whatever! Now, where's my flashlight?!"
"Right next to you."
"Quiet you!"
"Well, you asked…"
Amidst the darkness and Bulma's heated complaining, pairs of beady, red eyes stared at the two adults, evil shining within their bloody gazes. When the flashlight flicked on, they were gone.
DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNN *gets shot*
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