Sorry for the delay - irl duties have taken priority as of late, so progress on the story hasn't been as fast as I would like. Regardless, please enjoy. All comments as usual are greatly appreciated.

PS - go see Broly!

"I did it!"

A capsule was dropped in Vegeta's lap, as he tried to eat. He looked up at his girlfriend, with a confused expression.

Bulma pointed at the capsule. "Come on! Open it!"

Vegeta pushed his chair away from the table. She looked so excited for whatever this thing was that he couldn't just tell her to wait until he finished his meal. She was going to be the death of him, one of these days. As she had shown him many times before, he pressed the plunger at the top of the capsule, and threw it onto the ground. In a flash of smoke, the capsule opened.

Lying in the middle of the ground was a normal looking set of spandex and armor. He looked less than amused. "You interrupted my lunch for this," he said, in a deadpan voice.

Bulma pushed him out of his chair and towards it. "Come on! Try it on! It's going to be great – I promise you."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and did as she instructed. As he tried to pick it up, he was surprised by its weight. He grunted, as he managed to lift it off the ground. He needed both arms to hold it properly. When he pulled off his gloves to feel the material, it felt like the spandex he would normally wear. That didn't explain why it felt so heavy.

"I managed to work some liquid metal into the fabric. I didn't want it to be bulky or ill fitting or anything. I did the same thing to the chest plate, too."

When he knelt down to pick that up, as well, his eyes widened – it was even heavier than the spandex. He was not weak, when it came to lifting heavy things, but even this tested his strength.

Bulma walked up, beside him. "Back on Earth, I saw some fighters who wore weighted clothes for training. I figured, if they can do that in training, then imagine how much stronger someone could get if they wore them, all the time. If you wear these every day, even if you're just sitting around, you'll be able to get stronger, in no time. So, you can take it a little easier, when you're training. Plus, with the way the metal goes into the fabric, we can add on more weight, when you get used to it."

It sounded so simple, but no one here had ever thought about it. Getting stronger while doing everyday tasks sounded impossible; then again, he wouldn't expect anything less from her. And if it could work with that, then maybe…

"Can you do the same, with training clothes?"

"I don't see why not."

The added weight during training would push him closer to his goals. He could become the legendary again, in no time. Maybe this was that edge he needed.

He dropped the clothing onto the floor, and spun around, pulling Bulma into a kiss. Her eyes widened in shock, but she eventually wrapped her arms over his shoulders. It was by far the most passionate kiss they had ever shared. Vegeta couldn't think of any other way to express his gratitude. With her help, they could finally put a stop to the senseless murders.

Bulma pushed him away from her, flustered and caught off guard by his gesture. "You're quite welcome," she said, in a breathy voice.

He chuckled. It always amused him how she could go from spitfire to speechless in a matter of seconds. It helped him get payback for all the times she'd catch him off-guard.

She shook her head and cleared her throat. "So, you know how that works. Let me know when you need the weight to be upped or if you're having any issues with it, and… yeah. I'll let you finish your lunch, now." She patted his shoulder, before beginning to run back out of the room.

As she walked past him, his tail coiled around her wrist, stopping her forward motion. "We're going out, tonight."

That was out of character, for him. Normally, she was the one goading him into dates. "Why?"

"Aren't you the one always complaining that we don't go on enough dates, as you call them?"

She sighed. She probably shouldn't complain, if that were the case. "Fair enough. I'll be down in the library. Come find me, when you're ready to go."

"Just don't make me pry you away from a book, when I do."

"I won't. See you in a bit!" Bulma left the room, and the door slid shut behind her.

Vegeta picked up the training uniform, once again. He donned his new uniform, replacing his old. He hadn't notice that the design of the chest plate was different: the shoulder pads were missing, replaced by just a simple strap over his shoulder blades. The shoulder pads could get in the way and were a nuisance to fix, so perhaps this was a more efficient option.

He could feel the weight of the spandex and armor weighting down on him. He found it more difficult to lift his arms up. Bulma had not held back on the weights, yet it did not feel bulky. As he tried to get used to the extra weight, a smirk formed on his face. He doubted that it would take long for him to need an upgrade. The more weight he could carry, the more potential there was to get stronger.

Nothing would stand in his way. And that lowlife killer would rue the day he messed with the Saiyans.

The scientists in the lab were hard at work, trying to decipher a meaning behind the mysterious object they found in the victim's neck. Pictures of the item were passed around, hoping that one person would know the meaning behind it. Yet, they were no closer to a breakthrough than they were, when it was discovered. There was no sign of the symbol in any Saiyan history book, and none of the Saiyans here recognized it. Not even the scribes could decipher it.

Perhaps this meant that this was not of this world.

At least, that was the idea that one scientist had. A newer recruit had thrown out the idea after days of being stuck in a stalemate. That had gotten the ball rolling once more, and contacts were sent all across the galaxies to all of the planet's most brilliant scientists.

Haricot and the rest of the team, after a long day of contacting various planets, had one left to speak to – Earth. He typed in the coordinates and number for the video chat, and waited for the other end to pick up. The screen flashed, and he was greeted with the visage of an older man with large glasses and a cat perched on his shoulder.

"Dr Brief," he addressed in his usual monotone voice. "I have a question to ask of you."

Brief adjusted his glasses, as he looked at the screen. "Ah. Haricot, is that right? Good to talk to you, again. What is it you need, my boy?"

"We are looking for a meaning to a symbol. It is not of our world."

Though he responded, Brief was reading a blueprint. "Is it? Well, I'd be happy to help, if I can. Just send it my way, and I'll take a gander at it."

"That is what we wanted to hear. The image will be delivered to you soon. Thank you, Doctor."

He waved his hand, as he tapped his cigarette butt against an ashtray. "Oh, it's no problem, at all. Hey, how has my daughter been doing, since she got back? I keep waiting for her to call, but haven't gotten anything, yet."

There were groans from around the room, though Haricot was not one of them. "I do not keep tabs on Bulma, Doctor. She was working on a personal project, last time she came in here."

He laughed. "Of course she is. Well, when I get it, I'll let you know what I think. Toodles!" Dr. Brief hit a button on the keyboard, shutting off the transmission.

"Personal project," one of the scientists said. "While we're working on ending these murders, she gets to work on a personal project? Why do you let her get away with that?"

"Bulma outsources everything herself and is not reliant on the lab. Science is not her duty, in this palace."

Another scientist responded. "Why do you keep giving her special treatment? Maybe Okra was right. No wonder you fired her."

"Okra is gone because of unconventional and inhumane conduct. Letting her continue would have put our entire operation at risk. As long as Bulma continues to abide by our rules and only joins projects when requested, we have no reason not to let her continue with her projects. If any of you disagree, you can take it up with me another day." His voice began to raise the smallest amount. "Until then, we'll continue with our investigation. Is that clear?"

The scientists nodded in agreement, not wanting to push Haricot any further.

"Alright," he said, his voice returned to its usual low monotone. "Our investigations will pause for now until we hear back from the remaining worlds. This meeting is now adjourned."

"End training simulation."

The lights came up and the shields on the wall rose, once more. King Vegeta and Nappa exhaled, as they stretched and relaxed their aching muscles. Nappa hit a panel on the wall with his fists, releasing the drawer of towels. He grabbed one and tossed the other to the king.

"Your majesty," Nappa said. "I think you've improved."

"That's what I like to hear," the king said, as he wiped his brow. A proud smirk was on his face.

"To be honest, I didn't think you still had it in you. If Cauli were here, she'd be jumping you right about now."

The king laughed. That comment brought back a lot of memories. The year after the war against the Tuffles was eventful for the both of them, to be sure. He was still surprised that Vegeta ended up being his only son.

"Nappa, pray tell: why can't I say the same for you?"

He raised a brow. "Are you asking why Cauli didn't want to jump me?"

"No, of course not. Why can't I say the same about any mate of yours? Why haven't you courted? I've been waiting for it to happen as long as I've known you, but it never has."

Nappa shrugged, as he tossed his towel behind his neck. "I've had no interest in it."

"Oh, come now. Surely, there must have been one Saiyan you've been smitten by. Cauli used to tell me how much of a heartbreaker you were back in her village."

He snorted. "If I had a soul mate like you had with Cauli, I think I would have met her, by now. Besides, I've been a bachelor for this long – why stop now?" The two Saiyans left the training room, heading towards the showers.

The king put a hand over his shoulder. "Perhaps you haven't been looking far enough. I thought my son was hopeless in love. But Bulma came along and proved me wrong. Maybe you should start outsourcing your quest, too."

"You're suggesting I shop around at every planet. I don't think I could keep up with my duties, in the meantime."

He shook his head. "I swear, you're a stubborn ass, sometimes. Just keep your options open and it may come to you. You're still a strong, good looking Saiyan – it'd be easy for you to find an interested party."

"Vegeta, are you coming onto me?"

The king groaned, and took his arm off of him. "Look, take my suggestion or don't. You don't have to be such a smart-aleck about it."

Nappa chuckled, as he shook his head. Maybe if they were still young, he would have taken his advice, but his time had long since passed. He wasn't the young, dashing Saiyan he was, in his youth. Even by Saiyan standards, he wasn't the most attractive man around. Besides, he had kept himself too busy with his other duties to sit down and find himself a mate. He was perfectly content this way.

Bulma met up with Vegeta, next to the castle doors. She looked pleased, to see him wearing his new suit. "How do you like it," she said, as she looped her arm around his.

"I think you may have been onto something."

"Aren't I always?"

He snorted. He looked down at her. She was wearing one of those frilly pink dresses she picked up on their last trip to Earth. He didn't even understand how she could walk in that thing – the skirt dragged on the floor. Plus, she always insisted on wearing those heels, anytime they went out together. Vegeta was never going to fully understand Earth women; he had accepted that quite some time ago.

Not that she didn't look ravishing, of course.

He pulled Bulma alongside him, as they left the castle. The guards saluted him, as he walked past them; he just gave them a nod. A thought occurred to him, as he walked through the gates, and he snorted.

"What," she asked.

"Still can't believe I had to climb over the palace walls to come out here, before."

She nodded. "Maybe it's a good thing that you had to."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't have met me, after all." She kissed his cheek.

He blushed and looked down. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered.

"So, what did you have in mind, for tonight?"

"You'll see when we get to the damn place."

She put her hands up. "Okay, okay, sheesh."

Vegeta led Bulma through the city, taking quiet roads to avoid large crowds of Saiyans; they did not want to get ambushed by a crowd of admirers, again. All members of the court were required to travel with a bodyguard – all except Vegeta. As he was the strongest Saiyan on the planet, there was no need for any other protection. As for Bulma, most were confident that he'd protect her if something went amuck.

They ended up at a small establishment at the end of a quiet street. It was a small restaurant, housed in an old stone hut. The place was mostly bereft of activity, with only a few guests scattered around the room. The atmosphere was more casual than she would have expected; Bulma began to feel a tad overdressed, for the occasion.

A server walked up to greet them, cleaning a dish with a dirty rag. He nearly dropped it, when he recognized the two of them. He cut his introductions short and immediately escorted them to a seat.

Bulma glanced around, as she scooted her chair forward. "This place is homier than I thought your taste would be. I mean, I like it, but I was expecting something more ritzy or glamorous. You know, for a prince and stuff."

Vegeta scoffed. "You should know I don't care for such frivolous things. Besides, you're only paying for the experience, there; the food is garbage."

She laughed. "That sounds like something my sister would say. But how did you even find this place? I don't think anyone would go looking for restaurants, all the way out here."

"Raditz dragged me out here, once. Said one of his ex-girlfriends ran this place. And that's exactly why we're here. No one would come searching for us all the way out here. We can have a quiet evening with just the two of us."

She lifted her hand to her chest, with a grin on her face. "My, how romantic of you. You know how to make a girl swoon, don't you?"

"You are still here, after all."

Their dinner together was just as perfect as it could be. No distractions, no interruptions, and no worries. They could forget about all of their problems and just be with each other, for once. The hours ticking by felt like mere minutes. In the back of her head, Bulma knew that moments like these were fleeting. Eventually, they couldn't have outings like this, anymore. Once Vegeta became king, all of that would be thrown out of the window. While it filled her with dread to think about, it made her want to enjoy every peaceful moment that she could with her boyfriend.

While they were wrapped up in each other, a figure in the corner watched with pure contempt. She could not see a young couple's joy and amour – she just saw an overly privileged, gold-digging, lowlife, Earthling bitch faking smiles to satisfy and please her only claim to fame and relevance. She was lucky he was too oblivious to notice anything different.

She hated Bulma. Ever since she came along, she had ruined whatever integrity her field had left, with her absent-minded "genius". How could someone act like a mindless airhead most of the time and still get heaps of praise thrown onto her? Because she was screwing the prince.

Sure, she might have stopped Frieza, but she was the one who caused all of it to begin with. She gave him that ball that granted wishes. She dressed up as a Saiyan and pretended to be one just to be a princess. Yet, everyone forgot about that. Even the king, himself, was far too forgiving. What did they all see in her? What made her so special? From day one, she couldn't understand it.

She downed another glass of beer to having her night ruined by seeing her face, again. The only consolation prize from being terminated should have been that she'd never have to see her sneering smile or hear her nasally voice again. And yet she came to her, once more.

She would have normally kept her violent instincts to herself, but there was little she wouldn't give to see her life torn away from her. To tear those obnoxious blue locks of hair out of her head one by one. To drop chemicals into her blue eyes until she went blind. To watch as her humanity was slowly drained out of her, and all she could do was writhe and scream.

Her eyes stayed glued on Bulma from the moment she entered until the moment she left. Even in her hatred or maybe because of her hatred, she couldn't look away. She was lucky that Vegeta had not left her side the entire time; she might have acted on her thoughts. How disappointing.

"In due time, Okra," she whispered, as she breathed in and out slowly. "She'll get what's coming to her."

"Oh, that was wonderful," Bulma said, as she leaned against Vegeta. They had left the restaurant and were now going on a quiet stroll. "We need to come back, sometime. Maybe Nappa or Raditz can tag along, too!"

Vegeta shrugged. "If it's what you want, then I can make it happen."

She stopped in front of him, and put her hands on his chest. "Have I ever said thank you? For everything?"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. Where the hell did this come from? "What do you mean?"

"You're just so good to me. You've done so much to help me adjust to here. I… I just love you, Vegeta." She smiled. "And I don't know how I can ever repay you for all you've given me."

To say that he was touched by her sentiment was an understatement. She had always expressed her appreciation, but this was more than just simple approval; it was gratefulness. He never understood how one person could express so much emotion to another, but as he had been learning, expression might not be such a bad thing. It showed trust to come out and say something like that.

However, he much preferred to show his appreciation through action.

As he leaned in to kiss her, a blood-curdling scream echoed in the empty street. Vegeta could feel someone's energy dropping like a stone, but no other energies near them. Within seconds, he took off running in that direction. Bulma yelled for him, but he didn't listen. He had to see this, for himself.

"Vegeta, wait!" Bulma ran after him, having trouble traversing in her heels and dress. Eventually, she just kicked her shoes off and ran in her bare feet, holding her dress up with both hands. "Vegeta!" Along the way, she missed a step, tripped, and fell onto her stomach, hitting the rough pavement of the road.

Before she could try to get up, once more, there was another scream – one of a raging warrior. There was a blinding bright light, and something flew up into the sky, out of an alleyway. Bulma covered her face, as debris blew in her direction. When the dust settled, she stood, slowly, brushing the skirt of her dress. She walked towards the alley, to see what had gotten Vegeta so worked up. She braced herself, holding onto her skirt tightly, when she turned the corner to see what had happened.

Her stomach dropped, and bile rose up into her throat. Bulma covered her mouth and nearly gagged. A Saiyan woman was lying on the ground, her eyes completely white and blood coming out of her open mouth. She was not moving or even twitching; she was a lifeless corpse. She didn't even know her name, but she was disturbed and saddened to no end. Tears stung her eyes, though she just couldn't look away.

A cold chill ran up her spine. It felt as if she was being watched. Slowly, she turned around to look over her shoulder. In the dark shadows of the night, she could make out a figure perched onto a windowsill staring down at her. It was dressed completely in black, blending into its surroundings like a chameleon.

The only visible part of it was the eyes: a pair of cold, black eyes without a speck of life shining in them. Not since Frieza, had she felt so petrified staring into someone's eyes. The figure tilted its head to the side, not blinking or looking away from her. Her heart raced, and she slowly began to back away.

But, before she could contemplate running, she blinked and the figure was gone. Bulma frantically looked around, trying to find any sign of it. She ran out back into the street, but all she was met with was silence. Bulma's chest heaved, and she began to panic. She was all alone with a murdered corpse and a possible killer in the vicinity. She ran her fingers through her hair and just started running, hoping that someone, anyone would be nearby to help. She wasn't going in any direction or heading towards anything specific; any place would be better than here.

"Did any of you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"Like shaking and a big rush of energy."

One of them snorted. "Nappa, I think you've had enough to drink. Didn't realize you were such a lightweight." He clumsily took his glass away and downed the rest of it in one gulp, making the rest of the group cheer.

That wasn't enough to satiate Nappa's curiosity. It couldn't have been the booze talking. He pushed himself out of his chair and went back out the front door of the bar. He ignored his fellow generals' jeering and teasing. He knew that he felt something, and he needed to figure out what it was.

As he began to head in that direction, someone turned a corner and ran square into his chest. The wind was knocked out of him, and he staggered backwards. He put his hand on his stomach, as he tried to catch his breath. Whomever he ran into was knocked down to the ground. Before he was about to yell at them to watch where they were walking, he looked down and realized who he had run into.

"Bulma," He knelt down in front of her. "Are you okay? You should have been more careful about where you were running." He chuckled, but then he noticed how panicked she looked. She hadn't even looked at him, yet – her eyes were looking all around her. When he put his hands on her shoulders, she jumped, before she realized it was Nappa. She nearly threw herself against him, sobbing into his chest. Not knowing what to do, he put a hand on her back, letting her cry and hold onto him.

He could only wonder what had happened to her. Bulma didn't scare easily. Whatever it was, it must have been bad. Though that didn't explain why she was out here, all by herself. She was a high-enough figure to require a bodyguard anytime she went out of the palace.

"Bulma," he said. "What happened?"

She choked on her own words, as she tried to speak. "I saw it. It was standing right in front of me, and I saw it."

"What did you see? I can't help unless I know what 'it' is."

"I saw… there was another murder. A-and I saw the killer."