Chapter 6 – Nightmare – Part 1

The rain comes down harder and heavier, seeping through the ruined dress, darkening her hair to a rich royal blue.  She shivers.  Why does rain have to be so coldShe really isn't much of a runner, and she soon stumbles as her shoes slide on the wet sidewalk.  She catches herself, and in that moment realizes that no one is following her, though frightening men and women still surround her.  How did I manage to walk so far into this part of town?  Still, no one has actually tried anything.  Maybe if I ignore them, I'll be fine.  She begins walking again, only to be stopped when a hand grabs her wrist.

"I beg your pardon?" she says coolly, hiding her fear as she turns to the well-muscled man.

"How much?"  He grins, exposing several mossy, broken teeth.

She stares at him, not understanding his question.  Something begins to click, however, when he licks his lips and runs his gaze over her curves.  She glares at him, although her cheeks stay white with cold from the icy rain.  "Unhand me, ass!" she screams.

She catches a glance of her reflection in a window.  Her mascara has run down her face, making her look like a sick clown.  Her hair, her dress…Oh, God, I do look like a whore.

He laughs to his fellows sheltered on the sidelines.  "Look, the little whore thinks she's too good for me!"  The block erupts with laughter.  He turns back to her, his grip tightening on her arm.  "Come on, love, what do you think you are, the mayor's private stash?"

"No, mine."

The laughter dies as the onlookers part to reveal a very familiar scowl.  His hair only gently bends as he steps out into the rain.

The brute quickly releases Bulma's arm when the aristocratic-looking man, dressed simply but neatly, approaches.  "Sorry, sir, I didn't know she was your whore."

Outraged, Bulma draws in a large breath.  "Listen, bastard, I am not…"

"Silence, woman!"

"And as for you, Ve-…"  His name is cut off with a muffled squeak as he grabs her, wrapping an arm around her back and clamping his hand over her mouth.

"You have to listen to me, woman," he hisses in her ear.  "Instead of panicking or getting angry, think for a moment.  Think about where you are.  Think about what the press would say if they learned that Bulma Briefs, heir to Capsule Corporation, was parading around in the red light district alone, dressed like that!"  He gestures at her dress with his free hand.  Her eyes widen as she realizes that he's right.  She nods almost imperceptibly, and he removes his hand, brushing his fingers across her lips.  She resists the urge to push her face back into his palm; the warmth was so nice in the cold rain.  Of course, her brain reasons with her, he didn't mean it as any sort of caress, so it's best not to treat it as one.  Remember, he's still a pompous…whatever he is.

He keeps his arm around her, ostensibly staying "in character" as a man leading a whore to his apartment.  In reality, he is startled by how cold she is.  Her lips burned, but it was the burn of ice on his skin.  She is long past shivering.  He pulls her closer, trying to keep her warm as they walk through the rain.  He wants to give her his coat, but they are still being watched, and that might look too caring.  Part of him mentally kicks himself, knowing that he shouldn't care, damn it!  He ignores this voice, however.  He doesn't have time for deep soul searching.  The woman will be severely ill if she doesn't get warm and dry soon.  She's getting tired, too.  She has walked a long way from home, but they can't take a taxi in this state.  Shit, woman, why couldn't you have gone to the park as you had planned?  He decides that talking may keep her feet moving as well as her mouth.

"So, idiot, just how long were you planning to stay out in the rain?"

"What did you expect me to do, walk up to those…people and ask them for a cup of hot tea?  I had everything under control.  I didn't need you or your repugnant alibi!"

"Keep your voice down!  And what exactly did you plan on doing?"  Shit, her lips are nearly as blue as her hair.

"Something!  I was working on it, OK?"  Why do my legs feel so heavy?

They walk in silence until Bulma decides to give voice to a couple of questions.

"Vegeta?  Why did you…help me?"  As she expected, he doesn't say a word.  He doesn't ignore her question, however; she feels a strange tension build around him.  She decides that, given what he's done for her tonight (When did the sun set?  Just how long have I been walking?), she can release him from this particular question.  She asks him her second question, this time attempting to sound completely businesslike.

"Do you believe that if a woman sleeps with a man when they aren't married, she becomes his whore?"  She almost laughs at her own tone; it reminds her of her math teacher from third grade.

He blinks a few times, then looks at her sideways.  "That depends."

Silence.

"On what?" she finally asks.

"On the man and woman in question.  On their situation.  On many things, woman!"

"For example…?"

"For example, if you were to sleep with me tonight, then yes, you would become my whore."  Or vice versa, he mentally adds.

"I would never sleep with you!" she sputters, her cheeks actually turning slightly pink despite the cold.

He rolls his eyes.  "I never said you would!  It was an example!"

"Not a very realistic one," she grumbles.

"Fine!  As a completely different, more 'realistic' example, take your relationship with that idiot."

Her movements instantly become quiet.  "Go on," she whispers.

"You will be married soon, correct?"

"Yes, in August."

"That's not really soon."

"It's this year!  It's only a few months away!"

"Right."  He actually rolls his eyes again.  You'd almost think he was teasing me, she muses.

"Well," he continues, "whether you sleep with him now or after you are 'legal' makes no difference."

"You mean, since we're going to be married, it's almost like we are married?"

"No."

She squints at him through the few raindrops which separate their faces.  "Then what do you mean?"

He wants to scream at her to stop this annoying interrogation, but they have almost reached a small bar where he can call her chauffeur without making waves.  He just has to keep her happy for two more minutes, three at the most.  He opens his mouth to reply.

Well, well, well, look what we have here: a fighter and his whore, all alone.  Took long enough for this street to clear!  Good thing I'm a patient man.  The hit man smirks as he raises his gun, clicking off the safety catch.

The rain muffles the tiny sound, but Vegeta has trained his ears for certain dangers.  Whatever he was going to say escapes his mind as his fighting instincts take over.  He pulls a startled Bulma to him, drawing a 9 mm pistol from his coat in the same motion.  Practically throwing the woman behind him, he jams the loose magazine in place.

Shit, the hit man thinks as he watches is target fly into action.  This guy's a pro!  He quickly fires, but the considerable smoke kicked up by the .45 clouds his vision, and he can't see if he's hit either the target or the whore.

He never does learn his accuracy…or inaccuracy.  He never sees the twin bullets that burn through his heart.

Vegeta smirks, turning when the Bulma suddenly screams.  "Honestly, woman, you wait until now to be fri-…"  He follows her terrified gaze to his left, then shoves her back against the curb of the road when he sees the flash of a Tommy gun.  How many of them are there?  He curses himself for getting so wrapped up in the woman.  He should have known they were being followed – he should have felt it!

Fortunately, the Tommy is not very accurate, and the rain confuses their pursuers.  Vegeta crouches next to Bulma, partially protected by the curb.  He grits his teeth when a bullet tears through his shoe, but remains focused on the pattern of fire.  He finally aims and shoots off three bullets in rapid succession.

Bulma stares at the man beside her.  He just killed a man!  The Tommy gun goes silent, and she hears a sickening moan, followed by a wet thud.  Her nausea comes back tenfold.  Make that two men.  Just who…or what…is he?  And why are they trying to kill us?   She wants to burst into tears.  She doesn't even feel cold anymore…just numb.  She's nearly prostrate in a pool of filthy water, surrounded by the sounds of rainfall and gun fire.  She yelps as a bullet barely grazes her shoulder.  The smell of her own burnt flesh causes her stomach to contract, but still she holds back those tears.  She will not cry.  I can't let him think I'm weak.  Some distant part of her mind tries to tell her that it doesn't matter anymore, that he obviously knows that she's weak in comparison to him, at least in this situation, but she ignores it.  She watches the blurry world around her, trying to tell herself that she's having a nightmare.  She's so exhausted that her self-delusion works and she watches a third attacker emerge and be destroyed with disinterested eyes.  She even smiles lopsidedly at Vegeta when the noise finally stops.

He stares at the smiling woman.  She doesn't seem real, somehow.  She looks right through him, as though she belongs to a world he can't see.  "Woman?"

"I was right.  It was all just a dream," she whispers in as her eyes roll back.