A/N: there are mentions of domestic violence and suicide in this chapter and future chapters - nothing explicit but just a heads up. Thank you all for the support!

Vegeta pulled his ballcap down over his eyes, before gradually peering around the corner past the brick wall of the local convenience store. He was a few blocks away from Bulma's apartment, where he'd made a quick exit just a few minutes ago on the fire escape. He knew he should have been hightailing it out of there, but still he lingered, in the vain hopes that he was wrong. He hoped he had misread the situation, that his instincts had led him astray when he saw her missing gun on the counter, and that it all hadn't exploded so catastrophically in his face. He hoped he had not ruined whatever it was that he had with Bulma – their rapport, their chemistry…her kindness towards him. Like all the good things in his life, he had not fully appreciated what he had before losing it, and so he desperately hoped he'd been wrong, even while knowing that his survival instincts had never failed him before.

He was just starting to relax and think that maybe he had just been paranoid after all, when two cop cars suddenly came around the corner from the opposite direction. He leaned back a little instinctively, even knowing they would not see him peering around the corner from such a distance, especially with how dark it was. The cars were blasting their sirens, obscenely disrupting the tranquil residential neighborhood with the noise and the lights before they skidded to a stop in front of Bulma's apartment.

Vegeta pulled away, his heart sinking; the sight was confirmation that he'd been right. His cover was blown, and Bulma knew the truth. He didn't know how she'd figured it out, but that did nothing to stop the disappointment from weighing in his chest. Sighing, he shakily pulled off his cap, reaching up to press the heel of his hand into his temple that wasn't sporting stitches as he winced.

His head was pounding horribly after dashing down the fire escape and sprinting over to his current location. He was not thinking clearly – this was obvious, for he should have never put himself in this position. The concussion must have been to blame, for him to make such a colossally stupid series of errors: agreeing to go back to Bulma's apartment, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, and finally, still sticking around when he should have been long gone.

Vegeta pulled his cap back on. He was exhausted, he was injured, the intense emotions of Goku being shot and Bulma figuring out that he was the vigilante were overwhelming, and there were cops a few blocks away who were soon going to be canvassing the neighborhood looking to arrest him. The last part was the only thing that mattered now; he would deal with the rest later. For now, he had to get moving. His vengeance was not complete yet, his brother still not avenged, and thus he could not allow them to stop him.

He could not allow her to stop him.

He took a deep breath to settle his nerves, then pushed himself off the wall, quickly heading down to the next block where there was an underground subway entrance right from the street level. He jogged down the concrete stairs into the dimly lit train station so he could catch a ride towards the hospital to get his van, and then he'd head to his storage unit where he could crash safely for the night. Tomorrow, he would get rid of his van, and then figure out how the hell to move forward now that Frieza and Bulma both knew that he was the vigilante.

The subway was empty, and the train came almost as soon as Vegeta got to the platform. The ride back was uneventful; no one else was even in his train car with him. He leaned against one of the poles, letting it help him stay standing. He knew that if he sat down, he was likely to succumb to the increasingly unbearable pain in his head. He tensed every time the train stopped, as though the police would be ready to swarm him, but nothing happened.

When he finally got off the station before the hospital stop though, he noticed more cop cars going towards the hospital, sirens blasting. The darkness of the night was lifting, so Vegeta stayed away from the main streets as he headed down back alleys back to his van. Fortunately, he had not lost all of his wits the night before, and had parked away from the main hospital parking lot. It seemed to him that Bulma was anticipating his movements, which made him scowl as he drew his jacket tighter.

A few minutes later, and he was driving past some police cars in his van, heading in the opposite direction. None of the cops even noticed.

Bulma was on edge, not having bothered going to bed. By the time her colleagues had come and she'd given a statement, along with orders for them to go stake out the hospital parking lot in case Vegeta made an appearance there, the dawn light was starting to crop up. She was tired from the long night, embarrassed that she had had the vigilante right under her nose without even realizing it, and most of all, she was fucking pissed. She did not know who she was angrier at: Vegeta, for playing her and manipulating her feelings so that he could stay ahead of her investigation, or herself, for being stupid enough to fall for all of it.

As her face burned while she explained just how she had met Vegeta to police officers who were her colleagues, she was grateful her reputation as a detective was pristine. A lesser detective would have lost much credibility, if not come under direct suspicion of colluding with the vigilante. This was especially true with the corruption that was constantly plaguing West City. Fortunately, Bulma's reputation saved her from more scrutiny, as the police department and her boss were more eager to arrest Vegeta than they were about digging into the how's and why's of her relationship with Vegeta.

She had always maintained a strict policy of not mixing her personal life with her work life, and now they were nastily intertwined. The only solution was to separate them, harshly – she was going to bring Vegeta down, to get the violent vigilante off the streets, to restore her professional reputation, and to teach him a personal lesson in the process.

Bulma strode into the police precinct a few hours later, laser focused and ready to get back to work, two strong cups of coffee in hand, her badge and loaded gun clipped on her work belt. As she passed the desks of the uniformed officers to head upstairs to the detective area, her blue eyes skirted over to Goku's desk. She frowned, wondering if he had known the truth about Vegeta all along. She had checked in on him at the hospital during the drive to work (also intending to see if they had discovered any sign of Vegeta), but Goku was still soundly unconscious. His vitals were stronger now though, so it was only a matter of time before he woke.

As soon as he did, Bulma would be paying him a visit for a necessary conversation. She simply could not wrap it around in her head that Goku could possibly associate with someone as murderous, violent, and manipulative as the vigilante running rampant in West City. Goku, the model Marine and model police officer, the nicest guy in her life with the most unshakeable morals – no, he could not have known, for he could never condone such a thing.

As she marched up the stairs with determination, something twisted in her gut at the thought that she might be very wrong on this. She pushed the feeling away; that was a bridge she would cross in the future. For now, she had more pressing concerns.

Krillin was sitting at his desk, the only detective currently in the office. His elbow propped on the desk, head resting in his hand, pen loosely in his other hand. He was asleep, mouth hanging open, the slightest hint of drool threatening to trickle out of his mouth while he snored. Despite everything, a faint hint of a smile briefly spread over Bulma's face. Krillin was dedicated, and after this case was over, she was going to put a word in for him to be promoted to detective.

"Good morning, Krillin," she greeted, startling her junior detective awake. His eyes widened as he blinked rapidly to wake himself, fluttering through several papers on his desk.

"Eh, sorry, just been a long night," he sheepishly said.

"You're telling me."

Krillin smiled a little in relief as Bulma handed him a cup of coffee. "Thanks."

"You got something for me?" she asked, taking a seat at her desk as she fired up her computer.

"Yep."

She logged in, then turned to face him, a serious look on her face. "Alright, let me hear it then," she ordered.

Krillin took a deep drink of his coffee, sighing with satisfaction at the caffeine rush. More awake now, he made sense of the chaos on his desk, pulling forth several different files in front of him. Finally, he opened a folder and looked over the information he had put together with the help of their team over the last few hours since Bulma had given him the name of the vigilante (she had gotten his full name from Raditz). Krillin skimmed over his own notes where he had consolidated the highlights, then cleared his throat as he began.

"Vegeta Prince Jr., 30 years old, West City native. Born to Celyra and Vegeta Prince Sr., both deceased. One sibling, Tarble Prince, deceased – murdered 6 weeks ago at 22 years old, case unsolved. Vegeta Sr. had inherited a family martial arts school from his father, and it was quite successful at the time of Vegeta Jr.'s birth. However, 20 years ago, it seemed the school was on the brink of going bankrupt, which meant the family would have lost everything, to include their home. Vegeta Sr. had gotten in financial trouble years prior for gambling, so it is a reasonable assumption that he depleted all of the family funds with his gambling, though we are not entirely sure.

"The financials from that point become…suspicious. There is evidence that Frieza got involved – if we follow Frieza's usual M.O., he likely offered to front Vegeta Sr. the money to save the school, in exchange for the ability to launder money through it… well, either that, or Vegeta Sr. was desperate and approached him for help. Vegeta - our future vigilante, I'll just call him that so I don't get confused - at the time, he was a martial arts prodigy, winning all junior tournaments he participated in. There are news clippings of him earning himself a reputation as a talented young fighter, with talks of him wanting to get into mixed martial arts when he was older. He seemed like a shy kid from the videos and interviews. Exceptionally smart, well articulated, very polite. The last championship Vegeta won was when he was 10 years old, right around the time that evidence of Frieza's involvement began in his family's martial arts school. The school recovered financially almost overnight."

Krillin cleared his throat. "It appears that several children who had been attending the martial arts school all began earning a criminal reputation from that point forward… Vegeta included. Again, following Frieza's usual protocol and propensity to recruit child soldiers to his so-called army, we can assume that getting the extra manpower for his ranks was part of the deal, and that Vegeta Sr. agreed to include his son in that."

"His own father, agreeing to have him join Frieza's ranks?" Bulma cut in, wincing in disgust. Her knee was bouncing as she rapidly processed all the new information. "Frieza must have forced him and given him no choice."

"Yeah, we are admittedly just connecting the dots, and it was a long time ago…but from the newspaper clippings and videos the team dug up, Vegeta Sr. didn't exactly seem to be a doting father where Vegeta was concerned. Seemed kind of a hard ass, to be honest with you. The kid had a black belt in karate while learning other martial arts and was dominating at junior tournaments, and it seemed like none of that was good enough for his old man. I mean, he talked about the kid in one interview like he was a complete disappointment."

"Hmm," Bulma hummed thoughtfully, frowning. "Go on," she ordered, raising her coffee for a drink.

"Vegeta's first official run-in with the law was when he was 11 years old. He was involved in an armed carjacking with other Frieza associates targeting someone who had crossed Frieza. Vegeta was arrested trying to flee. The target of the crime died, though it remains unclear to this day exactly who pulled the trigger."

He passed Bulma a mugshot of an 11-year-old boy. She swallowed as she gazed at it. That was him alright – with an intense glare that seemed far too serious and heavy for a boy so young. His hair was still swept upright, but he had youthful bangs hanging over his eyes.

Bulma then reached over and snatched one of the newspaper clippings for a tournament Vegeta had won as a child, when he was 8 years old. There was a small blurb on him and his family's school, and the school's positive impact to the local community's youth. Along with the blurb was a picture of a sweaty kid in a martial arts gi and upswept hair, grinning widely from ear to ear with a missing tooth, his hands clasped behind him and a medal around his neck while he posed for the picture. Vegeta was practically beaming in the portrait, and it saddened her immensely to wonder when was the last time he had smiled like that.

"Vegeta was then sentenced to six months in juvenile detention, with rehabilitation being the main driving force," Krillin continued, shuffling through his files, pulling information in some chaotic way that made sense only to him. "This seemed to put a strain on his family life. It was while Vegeta was away that the police were called for the first time to his home, a domestic violence incident between his parents. There was a massive uptick in these calls after Vegeta was released – some between the parents, but mostly between Vegeta and his father, who had developed a severe drinking problem by then, per the police reports.

"Vegeta had another run-in at 13 years old with the police," Krillin continued, sliding Bulma another mugshot. "He was part of a group beating a man almost to death, some guy who owed Frieza money. In addition, Vegeta had an illegal firearm on him. He was sentenced to juvie again for another 6 months, and it was during this time that his mother died."

Bulma looked up, not entirely wanting to ask, but needing to know. "How?"

"Suicide, gunshot," Krillin answered grimly as he passed her the newspaper clip.

"Suicide," Bulma echoed disbelievingly, taking the newspaper clipping from Krillin. She had worked as a detective long enough to know how things worked in West City, especially under Frieza's corruption. Her blue eyes scrutinized the news article. "Frieza sometimes makes things look like suicide. Anyone look into it?"

"Doesn't appear that her husband pushed the issue. Almost immediately after her death, the martial arts school went bankrupt, the family lost their home, and Frieza seems to have moved his sights elsewhere. Still, it seemed Vegeta remained in his ranks."

"So she dies, by suicide supposedly, and then Frieza stops supporting the school causing the family to lose all their money, though he keeps the boy in his ranks," Bulma muttered, scowling thoughtfully. "It lines up with Frieza's typical course of action when someone says no to him: to decimate the family and make an example of you so that no one else ever dares deny him. If Vegeta's father wanted to back out of their arrangement, it's entirely plausible that Frieza destroyed his family's business, killed his wife, and kept his claws into his oldest son just to prove a point. Maybe threatened to take the other son too, just to keep them all in line."

Bulma let out a shaky breath after she had voiced her analysis, and then bit her lip as the urge to scream bubbled up inside her. The sheer amount of lives Frieza had destroyed over the years, directly and indirectly, was obscene. She looked down at the newspaper clipping; her intuition had rarely failed her in her job, and she was well-versed in Frieza's tactics. Her eyebrows drew together, as she wondered if Vegeta had ever suspected anything regarding his mother's death. If there was a more sinister truth there, she wondered if he knew. He had only been 13 when she died.

Krillin nodded. "Yeah. It never ends when Frieza's involved," he agreed dismally, not knowing what else to say. He took his coffee and took another drink, letting Bulma read through some of what he had given her and digest the information.

Finally, she grasped her own cup of coffee again with a heavy sigh. "Alright, what else?"

"Vegeta's last run-in with the police was when he was 17 years old, when he was involved in an armed robbery of someone who had wronged Frieza. It landed him in juvie for the third and last time, another 6 months. Likely Frieza pulled some strings to keep him from being tried as an adult, and potentially ending up in prison for years."

Krillin handed her the police report, and Bulma reluctantly took it. Attached to it was a mug shot of Vegeta at 17, looking like he was brimming with rage towards life and everyone in it.

"Things were quiet after he got out from juvie - no more official run-ins with the police, anyway. Then when Vegeta was 20 years old, he finally earned his GED for high school. Afterwards, he immediately joined the Marines, who waived his prior record. His recruiter saw a lot of potential in him, especially in his martial arts skills, so they gave him a chance to turn it around. Vegeta finally got away from here, and it seemed like just what he needed.

"Vegeta's military service is outstanding," Krillin said in awe, handing her a picture. Bulma took it, studying it closely. It was an official military portrait. Vegeta looked in his early 20s, dressed in his Marine formal uniform which was crisp and neat, with not a wrinkle to be seen. He had what looked like a buzz cut that vanished under his hat, a serious look on his face as he glared at the camera.

"He moved up the ranks very quickly, earning quite a few medals of honor and combat valor, and letters of commendation for his skill in hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship as a sniper. He eventually joined an elite special ops group, working on classified operations. By all accounts, Vegeta thrived in the military until he was honorably discharged at 26 when he declined to extend his service further. It seems that he paid personally for Tarble to attend a private boarding school, away from West City, the whole time he was in the military.

"Vegeta then moved back to West City after his discharge, got an apartment, and got a job in construction. Tarble moved back as well after graduating high school, and began studying at West City University. From then on, Vegeta kept out of trouble, and things were quiet. There is no evidence of any further ties between him or his family to Frieza that we can see. His father died from cancer a year later, and Tarble moved in with Vegeta after that.

"Fast forward to this year. Tarble graduated this past summer with honors from his pre-med program at WCU, and was going to attend an elite med school in the fall. The next thing we've got is Tarble's death just 6 weeks ago. He was gunned down and shot 12 times right outside of the apartment he shared with Vegeta, after arriving home from a date. Vegeta declined commenting to anyone from the media about it, and there is only a short funeral announcement for Tarble in the papers after that. Unfortunately, Mike was assigned Tarble's case, so it died on the vine in another cover up. And that's all we've got."

"And now he's gunning for vengeance for everything he's lost," Bulma replied quietly.

She moved her chair closer so she was up against the opposite side of Krillin's desk, laying down the pictures and the newspaper clippings she'd been looking at. She swallowed as she surveyed everything laid out in front of them both. Despite her earlier anger towards Vegeta, she couldn't help but feel her heart break for him. He'd barely had more than a few years of peace in his life, and she finally began to understand his overall intensity. He probably felt more at home in the violence and chaos, than in the normal and mundane. And Vegeta was one of the lucky ones who had managed to get away from Frieza's ranks; such a thing from her experience was rare. Even then, he had not escaped his violent life for long.

Her blue eyes settled back once again on the picture of the 8-year-old boy that was grinning widely, and she felt a growing sadness inside as she thoughtfully ran her thumb over the picture a couple of times. Her mind went back to mere hours ago when she had her hand on the side of Vegeta's bruised face as she stared into his dark eyes that had such an impossible and magnetic depth to them. In that moment, she had allowed herself to contemplate exploring something deeper with the quiet man she was attracted to, until Vegeta had robbed her of all thought with a kiss and those strong hands that held her close.

Then she had pieced it all together, and it had all come crashing down, rather spectacularly.

She focused, trying to rid herself of such thoughts. They would not help her now. She had a job to do, even if it had just become much harder now that she knew his full background.

"Why would Frieza have Tarble in his sights after all the years that Vegeta wasn't involved with him?" Bulma mused out loud, eyebrows drawing together in thought.

"That, I don't know."

"It must have been retaliation for something, to take Tarble down so violently…must have been to send a message." She looked up at Krillin, frowning. "No signs that Tarble himself was involved with Frieza?"

"No," Krillin said, frantically sorting through the mess of papers as though the answer would jump out. "No, nothing. The kid was totally clean, no involvement from what we can see, just an excellent student doing college student things."

Bulma sighed sadly, her blue eyes settling on a picture of Tarble. He had an easy smile, softer features than his older brother. Though his eyes were just as dark as Vegeta's, they were lighter in spirit, not having seen a fraction of what Vegeta had. He looked sweet, a pinch mischievous, and she lamented that he had died before even really getting the chance to live.

"I wonder if Frieza wanted Vegeta back in his ranks," she mused out loud, picking up the college graduation picture of Tarble at 22 and putting it next to a picture of Vegeta at roughly the same age, in his Marine uniform. "Maybe Vegeta said no, and that's why Frieza did this to him."

"Maybe. We all know that no one says no to Frieza."

Bulma frowned pensively. She stood up, running one hand through some loose strands of blue hair. "I need some air…I need to think about all of this. I also have to interview Vegeta's landlady in an hour to see what she knows, so I'll head over there soon. This is outstanding work by the way, to spin up all this information so fast. I'm glad you're on this with me, Krillin."

Krillin perked up, a grin spreading over his face. "Thanks, Bulma, I appreciate it."

"While I'm out, look into any aliases that could be tied to Vegeta, to see if we can get a lead on where he might be hiding now. Assuming his family was buried, I want a patrol near the graveyards where his parents and brother are, for surveillance there, in case he shows up. Oh, and when Goku wakes up, let me know immediately," she called back as she jogged downstairs back to the main floor of the precinct.

Bulma kept her focus while leaving the police station, all the way until she got into her car. After she closed the door behind her, she gripped the steering wheel impossibly tight with both hands, until her knuckles were white. The anger that she had carried into the precinct had been left at the precinct, somewhere between hearing the details of Vegeta's mother and brother dying. She had no idea what emotion had been left in its place.

She took a few deep breaths to calm down, suddenly regretting not getting any sleep. Finally, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, not caring that it was just past 7 in the morning on a Sunday. She rolled down the window, once she was sure her surroundings were safe - after what happened to Goku, one could not be too careful, even right in front of the police station - when her phone suddenly buzzed next to her. Looking down, she frowned when she saw Krillin's name come up. She figured he must have forgotten to provide some key information.

"Yeah?" she said tiredly, holding her phone up between her cheek and her shoulder while she tried to light her cigarette. It would have helped if her hands weren't shaking.

"Hey, heads up. Goku's awake," Krillin said. Though he sounded tired, she could practically hear the grin in his voice.

At that, Bulma's hands steadied and she was finally able to light her cigarette. Relief and anticipation both flooded through her as she took in a draw, and then answered while exhaling, "That's fantastic news, Krillin," she said, smiling. "I'll head over there now before I go meet with the landlady. Call her though and let her know I might be a little late, just in case."

"Got it."

"Oh, and Krillin - get yourself a power nap sometime this morning. We need to be at full strength."

"You too. Don't forget Chief wants an update from you at noon on strategy moving forward regarding the vigilante."

"Got it, thanks. We'll talk soon."

They both hung up. Shortly afterwards, Bulma was driving back to the hospital, for a conversation that was long overdue.