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Part 2
The warrior's scowl deepened,
making his face almost unrecognizable as he advanced on the wailing child.
Gritting his teeth in an effort not to blast the kid 4 lightyears away,
Turles growled and yanked Gohan up by the nape of his neck, dark eyes beating
into the little boy's. He only cried louder, nursing his swollen jaw and
several other bruised places.
Turles snorted in disgust and dropped his young nephew, glaring at him.
"Any other Saiyan of your age would've gone through this at least two
years ago," he growled, tail snapping back and forth in clear annoyance.
"And YOU can't even make a simple ki ball! You're practically USELESS
you crybaby!"
Gohan looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I want my daddy," he
declared with a hiccup. "And my mommy."
"Your dad is DEAD, kid," Turles hissed, booted foot inches from
contact with Gohan's chest. "As for your mom, she won't be walking for
quite some time. Which means it's just you and me."
The half-breed hiccuped again and whimpered as he pushed himself to his feet.
"You're mean." Turles raised an eyebrow at the seriousness of the
boy's tone. His tiny fists were clenched and face full of hatred. The scene
was almost laughable. /After all the people I've killed and all the other
shit I've been called, "mean" just scares me to death./
"That ain't the half of it, kid,' Turles said with a smirk, crossing his
arms and letting his foot lash out. Gohan didn't see the blow coming and was
sent flying across the room. Again the hybrid's cries reached the older Saiyan's
ears and he chuckled. "I'm downright ruthless."
"Stop it you bully," Gohan whined, rubbing the blood from his cheek
and dragging his filthy sleeve across his eyes. "Leave me alone!"
/So now I'm not only mean, but I'm a bully too?/ Turles thought with a smirk.
/But if he wants me to leave him alone…/ Slowly advancing on the little boy,
he grinned and chuckled darkly. Gohan backed up a few steps at the aura his
uncle had. Turles' black eyes were radioactive with his idea, and with his
bloodstained clothes plus his satanic expression he looked about as
trustworthy as Jack the Ripper on a PCP high. Yet he gestured to Gohan as if
he were Santa Claus anxious to hear his Christmas list. Turles held out his
hand with a smile, sending chills up the little boy's spine.
"Come on, kid. I'll take you somewhere where I know NO one will bother
you for a LONG time." Finally Gohan's hand slid into his, and Turles
closed his strong fingers around the tiny digits with a grin. /And all I'm
gonna ask is that you stay alive while you're there. It won't be hard. The
Arlian jungles are wonderful this time of year./
============================================
She surprised herself by actually dragging herself to the door when a loud
knock came, threatening to send the Saiyan concrete flying inward at her.
With a hiss, Bulma reached for the knob with her good arm, yanking it open
with much effort. Doing her best to scowl down whoever dared to wake her
before noon, she found Nappa smirking at her.
"What the hell are YOU doing here?" she demanded, hand
automatically going to nurse her sore shoulder.
"You're supposed to be in the labs in 10 minutes," he said briskly,
noting her nightgown's sharp plunge and quickly averted his eyes. "And
from what I can see--" He didn't get to continue as Bulma slammed the
door in his face and stormed back to bed.
Nappa growled and flung the door back open, scowling darkly. "Woman,
WHAT is your problem?"
Bulma glared at him from under the comforter. "Let's see. I was
kidnapped, beaten, humiliated, then told to get to work when I can hardly
MOVE. So I'm going back to bed. Screw Vegeta, and the king, and anyone else
who tries to get me up before I'm ready." With that, she nodded and laid
down, breathing heavily.
Unaffected, Nappa tore the blankets off the bed, making Bulma sit up so
sharply she nearly lost her balance. "NOW, woman. It's what slaves do,
regardless of their condition."
"Anything before noon should be considered unholy and therefore
banned," she growled as she rolled off the edge and stood with her arms
crossed. Nappa glared at her and she lifted her chin in a very princess-like
fashion. "Do you mind?"
"No," he replied, then realized she was about to get changed. /Not
that I DO mind…/ He scowled and nodded, heading for the door. "Five
minutes, woman. Then I'm coming to get you whether you're dressed or
not!"
"Yeah, yeah. Go check on that nosebleed!" Bulma shouted after him,
then shook her head. /O, Kami, what have I gotten myself into?/
Changing as quickly as possibly, she tried to find out what would move and
what wouldn't. And wasn't surprised, though dismayed, to find out that most
of her joints wouldn't but her mouth could. /Well, there's ONE plus side
anyway./
As promised, 5 minutes later, Nappa threw open the door impatiently.
"WOMAN!"
"Chill out," Bulma growled, trying to convince her hair to stay in
the proffered hair tie. /Come on. This is so easy a SAIYAN can do it! Comb
hair. Hold hair with right hand, pull tie with left. Scream in pain when
dislocated shoulder helps out./ Finally frustrated beyond her control she
threw the offending object across the room at Nappa, followed shortly by the
hairbrush.
He raised an eyebrow as she growled and marched past him. "I think you
need to follow your own advice."
Bulma whirled around and poked him in the chest. "I'm up and dressed,
aren't I? And let me tell you, that's a feat in itself. If you think I'm
going to be friendly and cheerful on top of that, you've got another thing
coming, pal." She blew her bangs out of her reddened face and stalked
down the hallway.
Nappa gently grabbed her good arm and pulled her in the opposite direction.
She wrenched her limb from his grasp and growled, walking just behind him.
/Gods, she's beautiful when she's angry…/ He shook himself before that train
of thought reached the next station. /O, no. Prince Vegeta would kill me if
he found out I was after his latest slave. Not to mention the king./
Bulma scowled when he stopped in front of a pair of double doors, then looked
down on her as if she were an annoying insect. "Do you need help finding
your way back?"
"No, I'm standing here looking lost for my health."
"I'll return for you at the end of the day," he replied, grinning.
"And don't get yourself killed. The ship would be awfully dull."
"What a pity," she growled as he walked off, muttering to two
guards who had been slacking off. Turning her attention to the lab, she
sighed. "Now, how am I supposed to get in without hotwiring the
thing?" As she wandered closer to investigate, the doors hissed open.
Grinning, Bulma jammed her hands in her pockets, then winced.
"About time, wench." She was already beginning to hate that
all-too-familiar voice. With a sickeningly sweet smile, Bulma turned to face
Vegeta. "Get to work. Everyone else has already started."
Bulma's eyes fell on a clock just above his head and she smirked. "My
shift starts in another minute and a half," she replied. "Anyway,
no one's told me what I'm supposed to be doing, let alone how to do it."
Then she paused to consider something. "And what's the all-mighty royal
ego doing down here among the likes of us?'"
Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms. "I'm overseeing the work done by
the SLAVES, wench. Which means you listen to me."
"I listen to the king," she shot back, seeing him stiffen.
"And I STILL don't know what I'm doing."
The prince smirked and nodded behind her. Bulma glanced over her shoulder at
the machine she'd been admiring in the other lab, only this one was more
high-tech. "Figure it out, wench."
"That doesn't answer me."
Vegeta only shrugged. "Maybe if you were here on time--"
"I WAS!" she interrupted, growling. "Learn how to use a watch,
you pampered palace brat."
With that she turned back to the Saiyan equipment with a scowl. /Damn. All
right, if this is the reset button, and this is the on/off switch, then
this…/ After a few minutes of fiddling she stood back, triumphant. Bulma
glanced over her shoulder at the smirking prince and grinned.
"Hey, CACTUS HEAD!" she called, getting almost everyone in the room
to halt whatever they were doing. She grinned even wider and leaned against
the metallic box. "You're making me learn how to use an alien WASHING
MACHINE? What the hell is this thing doing in a LAB?"
Vegeta's eyes widened in shock and his lower jaw became just the slightest
bit lax. Then he scowled and shrugged. "You will do as you are told,
wench."
Bulma smirked at him. "Right. If I can't pull my hair back what makes
you think I can carry something?"
"I told you to," he stated simply. "Now do it."
"O, that's all fine and dandy, but here's a new break. I AM HU-MAN! Got
that? HUMAN! I CAN'T carry big huge loads of wash because I'm not strong
enough even when I'm NOT injured!" She mentally smiled. /THAT what
capsules are for./
Vegeta was unimpressed. "Get to work, wench. It's 5 minutes past the
starting time."
Bulma glared at him incredulously before gently slapping her own cheek and
grunting. Deliberately walking over to the locks, she rewired the inside and
marched out into the corridor. Looking both ways, she chose the right side
and continued her early morning stroll.
The prince grabbed her arm and spun her around roughly, bringing tears to the
scientist's eyes. Bulma bit her lower lip as his grip tightened, determined
not to show any more pain in front of him. Especially when she remembered the
enjoyment he got out of watching her being beaten. /Sadistic bastard./
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, shoving her against
the wall and sending more pain ricocheting through her body.
"Um… this way?" Bulma guessed, watering blue eyes glued to his
chin. Unlike when she was with Nappa, she didn't try to free herself or get
TOO sarcastic.
"Straight to the dungeons," Vegeta snapped, then smirked when he
saw the alarm on her face. "Maybe I SHOULD send you down there. Maybe it
will teach you some respect for a Saiyan prince."
"Right. As you can see, YELLING doesn't do any good, and beating me only
makes me more of a bitch than I already am," Bulma replied with a smirk.
"I think you're running out of options."
Vegeta leaned in closer, watching her flinch when his hand came up to rest
just above her head. They were lightly pressed together from chest to knees,
and Bulma squeezed her eyes shut in an effort not to squirm. Vegeta's blazing
eyes weren't in anger at her, but at himself for getting these feelings.
Things he hadn't felt since puberty.
/Why am I getting these annoying emotions NOW? And about this infernal woman?
A slave. A HUMAN slave!/ He growled, making her wince again before opening
one eye to warily regard him. Vegeta glared at her and snorted. "You'd
be surprised, wench."
Bulma pressed herself even further into the wall so she could look at him.
"I'll make you a deal. You get me into someplace where I can actually
USE my talents and I'll help you get your power above 5 thousand."
Vegeta looked at her skeptically. "And how are you planning to
accomplish this, wench?"
She felt the "I don't know" forming and quickly clamped down on it.
"It worked with Gohan, didn't it?"
"I'll consider it," he acknowledged, freeing her from her cornered
state. "Though I've seen your 'work.' It does nothing to benefit the
Saiyan empire."
"Has anyone ever told you you talk like a fucking computer?" Bulma
asked hotly.
"Has anyone ever told you you talk too fucking much?" the prince
shot back, smirking.
"Yeah. When they can get a word in edgewise," she said with a grin,
then yawned. "Dear KAMI I'm tired. And you can thank bastard number 3
for that. I was awake all night trying to think of the best way to kill him."
Vegeta let her walk off, and there was only one thing Bulma could think: /And
I thought MONDAYS were bad!/
============================================
A small whimper escaped her tightly closed lips as the prince shoved her into
a small room at the end of the lab. She fell into a chair, looking at him
with wide blue eyes, and Vegeta scowled, firmly shutting the door and locking
it. Bulma's heart leapt into her throat as he advanced, scowling. She pushed
herself as far away from the Saiyan as she could get, but a little thing
called a wall prevented her from escaping.
Vegeta leaned over her, one hand supporting him on the wall as the other
reached down for her. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, then shivered as he used
her shirt to pull her to her feet. "Stop cowering, wench. I already
promised your safety to the king. No one here will bother with you unless
ordered by me."
"O, THAT makes me feel better," Bulma snapped, but he smirked at
her. Her outburst had just proven that she trusted him enough to believe that
he -- or anyone else as long as he was there -- wouldn't hurt her.
"Why didn't you tell me that you can't read, write, or speak our
language?" he demanded, ignoring her last comment. She shifted
uncomfortably, and Vegeta noticed how stiffly she still held herself.
/Humans. Any other respectable species would've been totally healed by now./
"I THOUGHT it was common sense when you take someone from a planet where
nobody believes in aliens and put them on a ship from Kami-knows-where. Then
again…" She trailed off and grinned at him.
The Saiyan snorted at the implied insult and shook his head. "Wait here,
wench. I'll return soon."
Bulma stuck her tongue out at him, followed shortly by the one-finger salute.
It was highly unsatisfying, but better than nothing. One he was out of sight,
Bulma let herself collapse on the chair and put her face in cupped hands.
/Where is all this COMING from? I mean Nappa couldn't do TOO much because he
takes orders from these idiots, but WHY am I giving lip to a guy who doesn't
have to ask permission to kill me?/ She was about to investigate that
thought, but the door shot open and she sat up, looking guilty.
"Hello, woman," a voice said smoothly, and Bulma leapt out of the
chair and into the corner. Turles ducked his head and grinned at her,
followed shortly but Vegeta. "It's nice to see you in good health."
Bulma closed her eyes, breath coming short. /How could he do this to me? If
it wasn't bad enough watching what he does now I have to EXPERIENCE it too?/
The prince's eye was caught by the sudden movement, and he smirked at he
noted how she looked with a flushed face and eyes wide. It was then he saw
the stark terror in them, and it was caused by Turles. He glanced at the
warrior, who stared at her hungrily and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.
/If he DID do anything to her…/ he vowed to himself before he realized what
he was doing. Shaking himself, he scowled. /She's only a slave. Worthless./
Vegeta looked down on her and lifted an eyebrow. "Wench, what the hell is
wrong with you?"
"Not him," she whispered, and as keen as Saiyan ears were, he still
had to strain to make out the words. "Please, not him. Get Nappa to do
it. Please?"
Vegeta grunted and pulled her to a stop only three feet away from Turles.
"As an Elite, he has more important duties than dealing with a lowly
slave."
/Yeah, but he's the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm their latest sex
toy!/ Bulma thought and was tempted to say it out loud. Instead she redoubled
her grip on his wrist and shivered when Turles' eyes fell on her again. /Damn
him! He's even dumber than he looks to leave me here with a rapist! Pretty
girls don't make it here./
"I expect you two to get started immediately," Vegeta said and
Bulma winced as she looked up, noticing the heat in the Saiyan's eyes. She
swallowed thickly and backed up a few steps, which resulted in her falling
into the previously occupied chair. /I think I'll keep an eye on them. That
wench was never actually scared enough to show it until now./
"Of course, my prince," Turles answered sincerely, never taking his
eyes from Bulma.
Vegeta again glared at him and nodded slowly. "Good. I'll come back in
an hour to see how well she's learning things. Start with the basics."
He closed the door behind him and Turles grinned. Bulma's already wide eyes
got even bigger. "So, woman. Where shall we start?"
============================================
"For Kami's sake, can't I even make a simple BOMB without you hovering
over my shoulder?" Bulma demanded, swatting at Vegeta without taking her
eyes from her work. He was surprised when he realized she'd yelled at him in
Saiyan. Perfectly.
The prince blinked, then grunted. The slave flung her hair over her shoulder
and grinned at him knowingly. "I guess Turles is of more use than I
thought," he muttered to himself.
"For once, and ONLY once, I agree with you," Bulma said, carefully
tipping a neon orange mix into a steaming red one. She bit her lower lip as a
few drops splattered into the concoction. "He's an amazing teacher."
Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her. "Is this praise for a Saiyan coming
from YOU, wench?"
Bulma shrugged and wiped her hands across her pants, then turned to face him.
"And WHY do you keep calling me that? Do you even know the MEANING of
the word?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
He smirked yet again. "Literally, diplomatically or insultingly?"
he asked casually. When she refused to answer, he nodded. "Get back to
work. Wench."
Shaking her head, she replied, "Not with you looking over my shoulder
ALL the time. Go bother someone else. Tell the evil bastard I paid him a
compliment. Just go AWAY." When he didn't move, she sighed and shoved
past him, taking residence in a small corner. Sitting cross-legged with her
arms on her knees, she smiled. "Then YOU do it. It's not like you don't
know HOW by now. Kami knows, you watch me enough."
He sneered, about to answer when another technical slave stuck his head in
the door, muttering something in rapid Saiyan to Bulma. With a theatrical
sigh, she got to her feet and shook her head. "I am living among
BLOCKHEADS!" When the other shouted insults didn't contain one word of
profanity, Vegeta was seriously considering sending her to the medical wing.
He caught her by the arm and scowled. "Are you feeling all right,
wench?" She looked at him like he just fell out of the stupid truck and
nodded. "Then why haven't you cursed him inside out yet?"
"Hmm…" she began with a sly smile. "Could it be because I LIKE
the guy? Nah, can't be it. Let's see… because he's not a royal, arrogant
bastard? Nope, not that one either." She tapped her chin thoughtfully,
glaring at him.
Vegeta, getting the point, scowled and threw her in the general direction of
the waiting slave. "Get going wench."
"Glad you said that AFTER you busted my arm," she growled, shaking
the injured limb. "Remember, us 'weak humans' are fragile. And I can't
blow up the labs with only one good arm." Grinning at the technician,
she motioned toward the doors. "Lead the way."
The Saiyan scowled and glared at the other scientists, who went back to work
in a hurry. The… verbal debates between the Earth native and the prince were
becoming spectator sports, much to the annoyance of both. She had to be the
only slave that he let talk back to him and live. He himself was wondering
what to do about that.
Vegeta rapped his gloved fingers against the table and glared at the clock.
/What could that damned wench be DOING? She's missing work./ When Bulma
hadn't returned after nearly ten minutes, he growled and kicked in the door,
not bothering with the code. There, he picked up the last of their
conversation.
"…SUCH an idiot. I know his REAL power level is over 5,000, but that
blundering ASSHOLE doesn't seem to notice he's holding back. Kami knows why.
If *I* was him I'd blast my daddy to Kingdom Come and back just to prove that
I could." Bulma looked up when her friend yelped, then knelt, shaking. A
shadow fell over her and she closed her eyes. "Let me guess. I opened my
big mouth just when he walked in." Turning around, she grinned. "Do
I get my brand-new car now?"
Vegeta scowled, not understanding the reference and grabbed her arm.
"What took you so long wench? And why do you keep saying I'm stronger
than I am? Is this some sort of mockery?" he growled.
"Well, pick one question and let me answer it," Bulma said before
he could start shaking her. "And hurry up. I'm not missing my lunch
break AGAIN because of you."
Ignoring her last comment, the prince grunted. "What the hell is keeping
you?"
"The fact that THIS thingy here is missing about 15 VERY important
parts, courtesy of a certain Saiyan idiot," she replied with a smile.
"But it's no problem to fix. I ran into the same problem when I was
testing my new g--"
"Your new WHAT, wench?" Vegeta pressed, smirking at her. When he
took a step forward, Bulma put up her hand. He smirked even wider at her
pitiful attempt to stop him.
"O no you don't," she replied with a firm shake of her head.
"I can fix you damned little playtoy, that's all you need to know."
His eyes fell on the still-kneeling slave and Bulma snorted. "And he
doesn't know his ass from a hammer so it doesn't matter what he tells
you."
"Your WHAT, wench?" he demanded again, scowling.
"Guilt ray?" she asked with a small smile. He glared at her and she
shrugged. "I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my
head."
"The truth would be appropriate," he growled.
"What is this truth? The greatest genius in the world has been defeated
by this tiny word!" With that, she fell back into the wall with one hand
to her head, the other over her heart. "What is the world coming
to?"
"Enough theatrics, wench. Either you tell me or you tell Turles,"
he threatened.
Bulma brightened. "Fine. I'll tell Turles tomorrow during lessons. Now,
if you excuse me, I have my lunch break in 3 minutes." She grinned and
winked at the men before disappearing out the doors. Vegeta turned, just
figuring out what had happened. /That damned wench. What is she up to?/
The slave behind the prince voiced his opinion in a much simpler manner:
"How does she DO that?"
============================================
An eyebrow was raised at the warrior as he practically skipped by, smirk
dangerously close to a smile. A few blinked at the improved attitude, but
Nappa knew better than to trust anything that would make Turles happy. Yet he
was headed away from Bulma, which made the older man breathe a little easier.
/Pretty soon the brat will be ready for REAL training, and in the meantime
Vegeta's taking longer and longer to check up on us every day. With the boy
gone I can concentrate on the woman./ Keeping a straight face was getting
harder and harder to do, so he finally let it slip into a cruel smile as he
headed toward his nephew's new holding cell. /But for now, it's time to
deport the kid./
Gohan growled at him as he stepped into the room, smile breaking out into a
full-blown grin. "What do you want?" he snapped, surprisingly, in
Saiyan.
Turles blinked, then his grin widened. "It's time for you to go, kid. We
don't have all day so come on."
"No! I'm staying here!" he muttered firmly, crossing his arms. As
much as he stuttered in his native language, his Saiyan was clear and smooth.
As was his glare, which reminded Turles of the prince.
"Brat, I don't have time to--" He was cut off as Gohan's clenched
fists started to sparkle with electricity. As soon as he noticed the
lightning-shaped flashes of light, a thick beam of red light shot at him. Out
of instinct, he put his arm across his face to bar the attack and growled
when it bounced away. "Why you little--" He stopped again as he
brough his blocking arm down and felt the sudden jolt of pain. Looking at the
scorched flesh, bubbles and blisters started popping up on the burn.
"I'm staying here," Gohan repeated, sitting down with his tail
flicking behind him in annoyance. He crossed his arms, black eyes focused on
his uncle's stunned face. "And where's my mom? I want to see her."
Turles smiled, chuckling darkly as he examined the extent of his injury.
"So I guess the little bastard isn't such a baby after all, is he?"
Without giving Gohan time to reply, he grinned. "Fine by me. You can
stay, brat. But the day after tomorrow your training starts. And we'll see
what the king thinks of you." He checked his singed armor as he walked
out the door and closed it slowly behind him. /So I guess I'll make my move
tomorrow./
============================================
Vegeta eyed the pair as Turles tapped Bulma on the shoulder, gently reminding
her of the time. She threw her hands up in exasperation and yelled quite a
few things at him that neither Saiyan could clearly understand. There was one
phrase that made Vegeta smirk: after running low on insults, Bulma had simply
called him a "bloody bastard." Which Turles actually understood.
"WENCH!" the prince yelled over the roar of machinery and the
half-matched battle of wits. "GO!"
With something that sounded distinctly like "Fuck it," Bulma
dropped the vial of clear liquid and some brown powder on the table and threw
her longer hair over her shoulder before following her tutor. Vegeta was in a
minor state of shock after seeing her obey without so much as a scream of
protest. /Finally I'm getting through to her./
From inside the room, Turles waiting until the prince was out of sight before
looking back at his beautiful charge. He licked his lips in anticipation as
he walked toward her. Bulma, ignorant of his thoughts, flipped through a book
and sighed, squinting at the tiny print. Leafing back a few pages, she paused
long enough to scan the material before looking up. In that short time he'd
arrived at her side and sat down, tail almost brushing her thigh.
"Turles…" she began, then froze when she noticed how close he was
to her. She moved over just the slightest bit. "I don't get this whole
thing with the--"
The warrior smirked and leaned in to kiss her, one hand going roughly to her
shirt and yanking on it, sending buttons flying and the fabric down almost to
her waist. The other one ran through her silky hair and pulled
none-too-gently on it before cradling her head. Bulma whimpered as she
realized that she couldn't pull away and started to shiver. /No, Kami,
please…/
Turles stood and started to lean her back, fingers still tearing at the
confining cloth. Finally the scientist closed her eyes and grunted, bringing
her leg up in a straight line to where no man ever wanted to be kicked. He
was stunned enough for her to slip out of his grasp. Bulma, not thinking
entirely straight, slid to the ground and saw his tail loosening. She didn't
hesitate as she took it and squeezed, nails and teeth gouging at the same
time. Turles let out a howl and fell to his knees.
"Sire, I was getting worried about--" Nappa stopped as he heard his
partner's cries a split second before Vegeta did. They didn't pause before
rushing off, Nappa blasting a hole in the back wall of the lab and going
straight for the out-of-the-way room. /If he's yelling that means that we
better get ready for a fight. It's not just anybody who can get him to make
this much noise./
Vegeta was well ahead of him by now and didn't even blast the wall out of his
way. He simply plowed through it, shaking the dust and plaster from his eyes
as he did a quick scan of the room. Whatever he'd been expecting, this wasn't
it. Bulma, half naked and shaking, was crouched in the far corner, leaning
against the wall. Turles was flat on his face, fists pounding the floor
almost regularly as Bulma's grip continued to tighten.
The prince didn't know whether to laugh or blast the warrior straight to
hell. He didn't know where the sudden possessive feeling came from, but he
wasn't going to just stand around long enough to sort out its origin either.
Nappa's impression of a landed fish lasted a few seconds, then he shook
himself and moved to Bulma's side. She only started to quiver more violently,
sending another wave of pain to Turles.
He gently took her hand and tried to extract her nails. Not being able to
accomplish the feat in one try, he debated cutting them off. Then Vegeta
solved the problem by growling and walking purposefully toward the Saiyan.
Bulma's eyes snapped open and she misinterpreted the look on Vegeta's face as
she shrunk even further into the corner. "No…"
"Quiet, woman," Vegeta growled, turning his attention to a
half-sobbing Turles. "I'm here to deal with this bastard." Nodding
for the other warrior to get up, he stood over the younger man with an
expression Bulma had only seen once in her life; the same look she had when
she witnessed the torture and murder of her parents. The look that was just
short of her crying in rage. The look that made even Nappa shiver.
"Come on, woman," Nappa said gently, offering her his gigantic
hand. She flinched, then tried to smile, having it come out lopsided and
looking more like a grimace. "We should get you some clothes."
"Let her stay!" Vegeta ordered, glaring over his shoulder at them.
His ki rose significantly as he noticed Nappa had his arms around her
shivering form, and Bulma glanced warily at him. /That's the closest he's
been to not holding back,/ she realized despite her fear-fogged mind.
"Sire, I really don't think she--" Nappa gulped when the prince's
glare focused on him and he nodded slowly. "As you wish." Bulma's
arms tightened around her torso and she leaned on him, adrenaline wearing
off. Even so, all of her senses were still at a fever high, and she could
hear Turles' heavy panting as Vegeta pulled him to his feet.
"You were warned," Vegeta growled through gritted teeth as he took
in the younger man's frazzled appearance, "that the king and I have
ensured her safety. What made you think you could get away with this?"
Turles, for his credit, knew better than to answer, and the prince scowled.
He then slowly smirked, seeing the alarm in the other's black eyes. Without
ceremony, Vegeta grasped the bloody end of Turles' tail and yanked on it,
pulling the whole thing off. Nappa winced and Bulma sunk to her knees,
unsupported as Vegeta stalked back toward them.
"What would he have done if he actually got to go through with it?"
Bulma wondered as she watched Vegeta disappear through his hole in the wall.
Nappa spared one last glance at his broken companion. "Killed him."
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