Author: Jacob M. Bosch
PART: 2/4
PAIRING: Vegeta/Bulma
Six Years Later…
"When is he going to get here?" Iol asked his partner. Iol had to shout to be heard over the bedlam the surrounding patrons of the Social Section caused. The two so-called merchants sat together at the bar, and took refuge in the calm oasis it provided. Iol sat facing away from the bar, his elbows resting on the heavily stained metal counter as he watched his and his partner's back, fidgeting nervously on his barstool.
"Shuddup, will ya, Iol! He'll get here when he gets here!"
"Shree'kil, I have a bad feeling about this whole deal!"
"Oh, yeah? You're more than welcome to turn the man down," Shree'kil said, tossing back his drink. He then turned and gave Iol a meaningful look. "I'll tell your mother it was a spacing accident."
The two career criminals fell into a contemplative silence, and waited for their future benefactor to arrive. Neither of the men stood out in the space station's watering hole, which overflowed with the worst the galaxy offered. Mercenaries and pirates open to performing any task if paid enough. Tasks ranging from murder, to the more mundane, such as body guarding. Shree'kil and Iol fell comfortably between the categories of mercenaries and pirates. But of late they'd taken to hauling cargo; freighting stolen goods between those who pilfered and those buying the ill-gotten wares. Shree'kil and Iol were well known for relative honesty and reliable service and received a lot of business. They liked their jobs, preferred it to bringing their ship's, the Gizaa, guns to aid of the highest bidder, or robbing wayward ships. Not to mention shipping was substantially safer in these trying times.
"I know, I know! But it's Him!" Iol blurted out after a time. "If anyone finds out we're going to have that devil on our ship every enemy of the GRC will come after us!" Iol said, his native accent thickened considerably as he spoke in panicked Common.
"Look, you livo, the GRC is cracking down on our clientele pretty bad. In another year the trade's gonna be dried up. We can retire to a nice pleasure planet and live like rich men for the rest of our lives after he pays us."
"The reason business is going to Dubura's Realm is because of him!"
Shree'kil nodded, shrugged, and said, "Yeah. Doesn't matter. For what he's paying us it won't be our problem for much longer."
When Iol argued no further, perhaps, for once, pondering Shree'kil's words and seeing the sense in them, Shree'kil raised his hand and indicated to the bartender he wanted another drink.
The small man shrouded in a hooded black cloak waded through the hot, foul smelling crowd, knowing how easy it would be to simply extend a tiny fraction of his power outwards and cut a swath through this group of interstellar scum. But Vegeta had learned to control his fiery temperament over the last five years—not to mention the need for surreptitious movement. Regardless of his cloak, Vegeta maneuvered through the watering hole almost totally unnoticed.
Though many different aliens passed through the station and there was no standard for appearance, most wore their practical and versatile pressure suits. Station Security noticed of his arrival, however, and would monitor him until he left the deep space habitat. This was not to say they knew it was Vegeta, the head of the Protectorate gracing their station, only that a strong ki user had come aboard, a breed emerging in escalating numbers for years now.
Vegeta arrived via an unassuming transport ship originating from an even more unassuming planet called Jianai-sei. Adding to his anonymity, Vegeta suppressed his ki so low to the station's scanning systems he would appear no more powerful than any other ki manipulator currently on the station. Other than a scan for ki and other ordnance powerful enough to breach the station's hull and biological weapons, no one would try to determine his identity until he became a threat. For once, Vegeta was glad that overly optimistic, stubborn woman he worked for chose to ignore his suggestion to have everyone submit to identification checks on all GRC held properties.
We are trying to build a democracy, Vegeta, not a Military regime. We are an administration meant to bequeath rights, not take them away.
Whatever…
Vegeta spied the men he set up the meeting with sitting together at the bar, which was like an island surrounded by a swarming sea of miscreants. One held a glass to his blue tinted lips and sipped on the colorless fluid inside. Vegeta watched this one for a half second longer than he needed to—the resemblance to a certain reptilian pretty boy was disconcerting. Except Shree'kil had blue skin and black hair, not green skin and tresses. Nor was the smuggler as muscled as Zarbon and he certainly lacked Furiza's lieutenant's ki level.
The other smuggler, Iol, looked like a Saiya-jin caught between their transformation from man into mammoth ape. His skin, like the fur on his head, had a golden tint and his eyes shone like aureate orbs. To Vegeta's surprise the smuggler possessed an above average level of ki. Nothing special in the way of strength, but high enough it was noticeable. Vegeta wondered if the smuggler knew he gave off the radiance.
Both men wore orange and tan style pressure suits without the life support generators attached. No wonder there, the expensive devices were too easily stolen. Vegeta pushed his way towards his chauffeurs, ignoring a group of mercs who "accidentally" spilled their drinks onto his cloak when he pushed past them.
Vegeta quietly took the metal barstool next to Shree'kil.
"What'll you have?" the barkeep, a beefy looking Jeerin-jin asked Vegeta.
"You wouldn't happen to have Ice-jin ale, would you?"
At the same time the barkeep was shooting Vegeta a disbelieving stare Shree'kil and Iol went completely still on their seats.
"Ice-jin ale! No one's served that swill in Kaiou knows how long!" the Keep declared.
Vegeta noticed out of the corner of his eye as Shree'kil set his drink down and calmly stared straight ahead. Iol, obviously not the cooler of the two, had his head craned Vegeta's way and gawked openly. As long as he didn't feel the urge to blurt out any inciting names, Vegeta thought distastefully. Vegeta also hoped the pilot had more control over himself when steering the ship.
"Then I guess Narn will do."
The barkeep nodded and moved away to the other side of the bar to fill Vegeta's order. When the barkeep set the drink down on the counter in front of him the prince closed his white-gloved hand around the glass and brought it to his lips. He downed the amber liquid so quickly he barely tasted its sweet-sour flavor hit his tongue, but certainly felt its fiery aftereffects burn the lining in his stomach. Vegeta put the empty glass down and took out his credit chip. "Keep them coming. And put their tab on me," Vegeta said pointing his thumb in Iol and Shree'kil's direction.
Vegeta and the smugglers sat without acknowledging one another for several minutes. The Saiya-jin was in no hurry and was willing to allow the other two a few moments to get it together, as it were. It wasn't everyday you get into business with the bane of your existence. Vegeta knew that only too well. Finally, Shree'kil swiveled his neck and half-peered Vegeta's way. The Prince accepted his second refill and pretended he hadn't noticed.
"Where do you want to do this?" Shree'kil asked. Vegeta's hand halted in mid-motion, freezing the shot glass a fraction of an inch from his lips.
"Your ship. Ten minutes," Vegeta answered curtly before tossing back the rest of the Narn.
"We're docked in Pylon--"
"I know where your "ship" is harbored," Vegeta said eyes forward, his voice a rumble.
"Yes… of course. We'll be waiting for you."
"Yes, you will."
Vegeta paid no more heed to the smugglers as they disappeared into the pressing crowd. He continued to drink until his chip racked up a staggering bill. It took an awful lot to inebriate a Saiya-jin such as himself, after all. Vegeta begged off the bar when he came to the conclusion he shouldn't have let Shree'kil's words incense him so. He would have to deal with the past sooner or later. This entire episode was about doing that in the most straightforward way he knew how: Vegeta was returning to Chikyuu-sei to reclaim what was his—what he'd given up—but his non-the-less.
A man, a small man, with silver streaked hair so long it flowed down to the small of his back, sat on the forest floor with his legs folded under him. His hands resting on his thighs, elbows bent outwards. The long red robes draped over his frame remained utterly immovable against the wind, as was his hair. He was un-movable, silent and he stared at the grass… waiting. He wouldn't have to wait for much longer.
It took twelve decidedly uneventful weeks to voyage to the Northern Galaxy. Vegeta spent most of that time inside his quarters studying detailed intelligence reports on the cartels operating inside the GRC. It was better than staring out at the vast, black expanse between the galaxies and also, it was his job. The reports referred to the last two organized crime holdouts. The cartels, the Junonai Syndicate and the Ofrin, used unlimited funds and ruthless intimidation tactics to control entire planetary governments in order to maintain their various criminal activities despite Vegeta's best efforts to put them down.
Apprehending anyone of relevance in either organization was nearly impossible, and those Vegeta's peacekeepers managed to capture were notoriously difficult to break. Anything Vegeta's 'keepers could do to compel the offenders to talk paled in comparison to the tortures the cartels routinely inflicted. And Vegeta, for all his power, was unable to combat such clandestine operations (Simply blowing up the planets harboring the criminals was not an option—well, not one allowed him at any rate). Which made these intelligence reports all the more important to his work.
Vegeta and the president recently, over the last seven months to be precise, instituted a secret branch of peacekeepers to gather information unavailable to the GRC otherwise. Surprisingly, the concept of a secret police was unique to Vegeta's adopted galaxy. Furiza introduced it to the Saiya-jin shortly after absorbing the Vegeta Empire into his own. There had been spies naturally in employ to the Vegeta-sei throne; every ruling body has those, but nothing on the organized scale of Furiza's political officers. The Ice-jin needed them to keep his ironclad rule running smoothly, as his vast empire extended thousands of parsecs, and was expanding every year. Of course the GRC's secret police was only in place to gather information on the cartels, not locate and eliminate traitors within the Commonwealth—that damn woman would never allow it.
Vegeta looked forward to returning once he gathered his family. There was still so much to do. He considered the persistence of these cartels an affront to his personal honor, and he vowed to crush them.
The ship came into orbit shortly before Shree'kil came to get him, per Vegeta's orders. In truth, Vegeta didn't need the wake-up call. He sensed Kakarott's ki upon entering the star system. Vegeta grabbed his cloak and draped it over his black and gold uniform and left with the captain. Vegeta followed Shree'kil through the narrow corridors of the Gizaa until they reached the cockpit where Iol sat at the controls.
The blue planet floated into view on the panoramic view screen. A blue jewel spinning in a backwater star system that offered little in the way of technology or fighters save a tiny, tiny minority.
"As soon as we locate a safe place to set down we'll make planet fall," Shree'kil announced, taking his eyes off the screen to glance at the Saiya-jin indifferently. Shree'kil, unlike his partner, managed to appear utterly calm when in Vegeta's presence. It impressed Vegeta, though, naturally, he never let it show.
"That won't be necessary, I will be leaving immediately," Vegeta said. "I will signal you once I have concluded by business on the planet. I will then expect prompt retrieval."
Without waiting for a reply, Vegeta closed his eyes and began concentrating on the planet. Then in a whoosh of air, Vegeta teleported from the Gizaa's bridge and reappeared next several miles from West City. Returning to the planet in much the same manner in which he last left it.
Sixteen year old Son Gohan felt Vegeta's arrival, as did else everyone on Chikyuu capable of sensing ki. Gohan sat up in his bed slowly a formless terror growing in his chest. Gohan yanked the blanket covering his tall, slender form away, swung his legs off the bed and set his feet down on the floor. Gohan turned on the lamp resting on the night stand beside his bed. Soft white lighting illuminated the entire bedroom. He glanced over at the bed next to his and glanced down at his little brother, Goten, who was laying on it. The spiky haired four-year-old remained completely undisturbed under his blankets. Gohan stared at his brother for a moment longer before standing up and walking a zombie-like line over to the closet.
Gohan searched through a staggering mass of school uniforms and a slightly less intimidating bulk of "proper men's' attire" hanging is his closet before locating the three holdouts from his fighting days. One was his old training gi, or at least a perfect replica of the training outfit Piccolo made for Gohan all those years ago. The second was a later version of the first gi, only the material was midnight blue, a shade away from black. This was the one he unhooked from the bar—this one he would wear. The last went ignored. Gohan pulled on the gi over his boxers then dug out matching boots and tugged them onto his bare feet. Gohan walked back over to the night stand and made to turn off the lamp. He paused for a heartbeat and watched his brother sleep before stealing light from the room. He left. Gohan found his father, also in the process of sneaking out of the house, dressed in his orange and blue ensemble, at the front door. Gohan held his father's gaze briefly before averting his eyes and walking out of their Capsule house.
He waited for his father to join him in the dark, then when he heard the door click faintly as it closed, Gohan focused his ki out from his body and lifted into the moonlit sky, his father trailing closely behind him.
For Goku, this night was one he'd dreaded for a long time. For six years to be precise. Vegeta has returned to Chikyuu. Why did he come back? Goku wondered. The Saiya-jin also wanted to know how his rival managed to traverse the distance between the Southern galaxy and the great void separating all the galaxies. Goku hoped Vegeta wasn't looking for a rematch, though Goku very much missed facing true challenges to his strength. But he in no way wanted things to end up as they did six years ago, just to satisfy his desire for a good battle. The wounds sustained that horrible day were simply too fresh, even after all this time. Especially the wounds inflicted on Gohan, and those Gohan inflicted upon others. Goku was not looking forward to their reunion with the Saiya-jin Prince.
Perched near the edge of Dende's Lookout, Piccolo debated whether or not he should rendezvous with the Sons' to confront Vegeta. He was unsure he could meet the prodigal Saiya-jin prince with an even mind. Yes, Piccolo became one with his more spiritual half, the former Kami of Chikyuu-sei, but this did not by any means exclude Piccolo from feelings of outrage and bitter betrayal. And Piccolo felt quite a bit of each towards Vegeta.
I'll wait this one out, Piccolo decided. Son and Gohan can deal with Vegeta. If it is a fight Vegeta's looking for. Piccolo turned away from vista. For the time being, there is nothing to do but wait…
No, Piccolo… Piccolo's eyes widened as the voice in his head—a dark, bitter voice not belonging to either of the passive entities currently in residence—transgressed his mind. No more waiting.
It was one of those nights, Bulma decided. Bulma sat at her work desk in front of her personal computer. She'd been sitting too long in front of the terminal designing her latest invention. It's calculations were kicking her ass, but Bulma had a feeling she'd work out the math eventually. Bulma was tired, however, and for tonight at least lacked the necessary drive to keep going. Bulma closed her eyes and placed her hands over her eyelids and tried to rub away the after-image of the computer monitor burned into her retinas.
Bulma dropped her hands from her face, put them on the edge of the desk and stood. She stretched before leaving her lab, recently inherited from her dad who moved to a larger workspace, and strolled out into the arboretum. Bright, artificial sunlight lit the conservatory, approximating the rays from the sun right down to the element which allowed the human body to produce vitamin D. The temperature was maintained at constant twenty-one degrees Celsius, perfect springtime weather. Bulma barely paid attention to her ever-present bodyguard as she made her way over to the fountain at the center of the arboretum. Hoisting herself up Bulma positioned her butt on the edge of the fountain and bent forward to roll up the legs to her slacks until her knees were exposed. Bulma swung her legs over and eased them into the cool water. Wiggling her toes a bit before they touched the bottom. Somehow, though she'd been off her feet for hours, the act of soaking her feet seemed to soothe Bulma's exhaustion.
Four years ago, Bulma resolved to build a time machine. Knowing it was possible to travel through time took away the 'can it be done?' mindset so there was no stress over not accomplishing her goal yet. Her future self accomplished it so it was only a matter of time before she succeeded as well. Bulma kicked her legs, cutting her feet through the water, and forced herself to forget the time machine for fifteen minutes.
A quadruped dinosaur stomped over, ignoring Bulma while it dipped its long neck and sipped from the fountain. After a few minutes the dino sated its thirst and moved on. Bulma continued kicking her feet in the water.
"Professor Briefs."
Bulma didn't bother to turn around to answer her bodyguard. "What is it?" she asked.
"There is an anomalous ki signature located just outside the complex."
"Are you sure it isn't Goku or Gohan?" Bulma inquired. The Son men visited often. Gohan more than his father, Goten more than either of them.
"It is possible," the monotone voice said, "however I discount the youngest Son. This ki is very large. You will be taken to the shelter immediately."
Bulma frowned and finally turned to her shadow. She tilted her head up just to comfortably glare at his chin. "Sixteen, I will not be taken anywhere. It's probably Goku. Contrary to what my father programmed into that thick skull of yours, I don't need a keeper," she said.
"Yes, professor. You will be taken to the shelter immediately."
Bulma sighed and pulled her feet out of the fountain and swung them back over the ground. She hopped down without rolling her leggings down and stalked up to the gigantic android, still glaring. "Sixteen, back off right now! If you're so bothered go check on Trunks. I'll go outside and see if there's a problem, which there probably isn't."
"I do not believe that is a wise course, Professor," Sixteen replied, staring down at Bulma in a conciliatory manner.
"Tough luck, pal! Just go--"
A popping sound rupturing the peaceful environment of the arboretum cut Bulma off. Then the next thing she sees, or doesn't see (whatever, he's no longer in front of her), is Sixteen blurring out of sight. Bulma hears thunder travel through the expanse of the arboretum. Rumblings like heavy bass drum beats, first behind her then to the right, above… everywhere. It was futile, but Bulma tried to follow the super powered fight between Sixteen and the intruder, outraged Sixteen had been right and worried for her robot guardian.
The animals within the arboretum began panicking as the battle pitched to a furious, violent tenor, causing the structure to shake and send down debris from the ceiling. Bulma decided it was time to leave, but first ran to the arboretum's control system and opened two of the buildings large entrances, the ones used to bring in heavy equipment and to allow the larger animals out onto the grounds. She didn't wait to see if the animals used either exit, she took her own leave, running to then through her lab and into the living quarters she shared with her family within the Capsule complex.
She found her folks already up and waiting nervously in the lit living room, dressed in a nightgown and pajamas respectively. Her father was rubbing his left eye behind the crooked glasses perilously perched on the tip of his nose, his pale blue pj's rumpled and wrinkled. Her mother looked bright and chipper, even her blonde hair set free from hairpins flowed down in immaculate waves.
"Bulma, what's going on out there?" her father asked.
"Yes, all that terrible racket woke us up," Bulma's mother added, yet sounded as though she'd been baking happily in the kitchen all along and not asleep in bed.
Bulma didn't stop her race towards Trunk's bedroom when she answered them. "Sixteen's trying to show an uninvited guest the way out."
Bulma slowed down before she reached the door to Trunk's room. Not wanting to frighten him by banging the door open in her haste. She twisted the doorknob and went inside, light from the hall spilled into the bedroom and fell onto the boy lying underneath blankets on his bed. Bulma stopped ant just watched him, her heart swelling. I have a son, she thought for the millionth time since Trunks was born, her wonderment no less potent now than it was seven years ago when she first held his tiny, and frankly, slimy body in her arms.
Bulma shook off the gushy emotions that snuck up on her and went over to Trunks. Gently she gathered the boy up and carried him out of the room. Bulma rejoined her parents in the living room with Trunks still sleeping peacefully in her arms. The elder Briefs stared out the room's panoramic windows overlooking the grounds, and Bulma nearly yelled at them to get away from the window but the night sky, or what was supposed to be a night sky outside, caught her attention. A bright, harsh yellow glow permeated the darkness; a familiar glow Bulma knew could only belong to a Super Saiya-jin.
Bulma also knew Sixteen wasn't fighting Goku or Gohan. The android registered both as friends and allies to the Briefs family, and somehow she doubted Goten reached Super Saiya-jin within the last two days, no matter how quickly Saiya-jin gained power. Besides, if the younger boy attained the transformation before Trunks Bulma wouldn't have heard the end of it.
Before Bulma knew it, tears flowed down her face and her shaking stirred Trunks. With drone-like steps she walked to the window and stood beside her mother. Bulma looked out then up, and high above Capsule Corp. she saw the unnaturally graceful form of the giant android, Sixteen, twirling in the air with a dramatically smaller form surrounded in golden flames.
Bulma backed away from the window, shaking her head in denial. Vegeta! I-It can't be! Bulma protested, not wanting to believe what logic and her own eyes told her. Trunks was awake now, roused by her trembling. "Mom, what's going on?" the boy asked with a plaintive, sleepy voice.
Bulma looked down at her son staring into questioning blue eyes that looked just like hers. She didn't know what to tell him. Didn't know if grabbing an airplane capsule and using it to fly as far away from Vegeta as possible wasn't the only sane decision she could make tonight.
"Mom! Look outside! Somebody's setting off fireworks!" Trunks exclaimed, pointing out the window. Bulma numbly let her son wiggle out of her arms and followed his scurry towards the window with her eyes.
"Hey! Those aren't fireworks!" Trunks complained. "Sixteen is fighting some guy! Look at 'em go!"
Vegeta had shaken off the surprise of fighting the android he destroyed years ago and realized rather quickly the huge automaton was considerably stronger than before. Vegeta gauged the robot's strength to be greater than Cell's, so the Saiya-jin prince ascended to his super form. Then the battle became furious; the android increased its own strength in response to Vegeta's power-up. The robot struck out before Vegeta could compensate, launching a swift kick into his belly and followed up with right cross to Vegeta's face, knocking the Saiya-jin towards the ground. Pain and anger let Vegeta recover before he crashed and allowed him to land on his feet. The earth denting before cracking under his boots. The Android used Zanzoken and appeared mere feet above Vegeta. Vegeta pivoted to the side at the last second, reacting in time to avoid what could have been a devastating blow from the robot's fist to the center of his forehead. Vegeta grabbed the android's massive arm with both hands and spun in the same motion, and flung the android up at the ceiling. It was unable to slow its velocity and crashed through the roof and out into the open sky.
Vegeta flew through the hole created by the robot and chased the giant. Vegeta gathered energy in his right arm, funneling it into his hand then stretched his arm out and fired a powerful blast. The beam wasn't strong enough to irrevocably damage the android, but it was capable of breaching its exo-frame, which might then allow Vegeta to get at its internal machinery. The beam streaked at the android several times faster than the speed of sound, covering the short distance between the two fighters in less than a second. The android, without halting his forced flight through the sky, thrust out his arms and caught the spear of the beam with his hands, cupped them, then tossed the ki over his shoulder.
Quietly growling, Vegeta's ki flare as he sped at the android twice as fast as his ki blast and reached his enemy almost instantly. He began swinging rapid-fire punches at the artificial man trying to reassess his power. Obviously the android received a substantial upgrade in power and speed. This thing hadn't been able to last any length of time against Cell, but here he was seriously contending with Vegeta at the same level Vegeta had been at when he'd made sport of the kimera. The two circled each other through the air, each alternating from attacking to dodging during their furious exchange.
Then, just when Vegeta decided he would have to torque up his power to its fullest, he became distracted for a split second when he sensed Kakarott's ki approaching fast. That instant was all the android needed to take advantage. Vegeta let out a loud "oof" as the robot's ham-like fist caught him in the mid-section, doubling Vegeta over. Vegeta reacted on pure instinct and released a wild explosion of ki before his opponent could launch into a rave attack. The energy clashed into the android blasting him away from Vegeta, the ki enveloping the android made it look like a meteorite flying across the night sky.
Vegeta followed the android's flaming path through tear-soaked vision, the android continued to hurdle through the air until Kakarott appeared and stopped it in midair. Kakarott's bra—boy flew in seconds later. Vegeta and Gohan made eye contact; their gazes met like a tight, punishing handshake, memories perhaps burgeoned uncomfortably in both.
"Vegeta," Kakarott announced, holding the android at his side, one arm wound about the robot's waist while its bulging arm draped heavily over Kakarott's shoulders.
Vegeta pulled his stare away from Gohan's and moved it to Kakarott. He took a deep breath and powered down from Super Saiya-jin to his normal state, then reduced his ki even more and let his form drift down to the earth below. Vegeta landed in the middle of a grassy area a hundred meters from Bulma's family's enterprise and waited calmly for the Saiya-jin and the android to join him.
Gohan was unprepared for the overwhelming rage he felt when he finally glimpsed Vegeta. The guilt he usually experienced when he evoked the day Vegeta betrayed them all, fled him. The urge to fly down and batter the Saiya-jin prince was an onslaught no other emotion could stand against. Gohan suppressed that urge though, if only barely. Whatever he felt, however strong his desire to let loose, he would control himself, even if it meant feeling nothing at all. He learned that lesson at least. And all it cost him was a friend's life.
"Gohan, check on Bulma and Trunks," his father said.
"Father, I won't--" Gohan turned to his father and started to protest, hurt he wasn't trusted.
"Go," his father ordered quietly.
Gohan jerked his head back around and he had to grind his teeth together in order not scream in frustration. In the end he said nothing and flew away from Sixteen and his father. He sailed over Vegeta and headed for the complex. Gohan entered the large house where the Briefs' lived, all of whom—except Trunks—were staring at him with the same expression he saw on his father's face before they left their own home. Kami, how hated those looks! It was years before his friends and family watched him with anything other than pity, fear, and worry in their eyes. Gohan clenched his fists down at his sides and suppressed another surge of anger. Why did Vegeta have to return?
"Gohan!" Trunks cried out when he saw older half Saiya-jin. "What's going on outside? Did you see Sixteen fightin' that guy? I think that guy is a Super Saiya-jin like you and Goku! He is, isn't he?"
Gohan couldn't help but grin at the little pink-haired boy's lightening fast words. "He's a Super Saiya-jin, all right," Gohan told the boy.
"What does he want?" Bulma asked.
Gohan looked to the woman and his smile withered at the fear and near-hysteria he saw in her eyes.
"I… I don't know," Gohan said. "Dad wanted me to see if you were okay."
Bulma's worried expression transformed to one of dark irritation. "Well, how thoughtful of him! But you know what would be more thoughtful? Someone being able to tell us what's going on out there instead of shuffling his feet in here!" Bulma yelled.
"But my dad--"
"I don't care what that scatter brain said, Gohan! Get back out there and don't come back until you have something useful to tell us! Like, gee, I don't know… if he's come back to kill everybody in sight!"
"But, Bulma--"
Bulma stormed over to Gohan and somehow, though she was a foot and a half shorter and Trunks was between them, she managed to loom over the teenager. Gohan backed away from the fuming woman, cringing. "Just go!" she bellowed loud enough to put Gohan's mother's screams to shame.
Gohan turned tail and ran from the Brief's house back out into a suddenly far more hospitable night.
When door slammed closed behind him Gohan ducked his head then scratched the back of his neck. He almost forgot how… forceful Bulma could be in tense situations. When Gohan reached the area where he left his father, Sixteen, and Vegeta all three stood together in a wide semi-circle. His father's stance was rigid; his lips were tight and thin as he spoke to Vegeta. Gohan knew that when he walked closer he would hear his father's voice and it would sound softer, deeper than ordinary. Sixteen towered above the Saiya-jin unmoving and silent. He gave no indication he'd previously been involved in a pitched battle with Vegeta. Vegeta's cloak-draped back was to Gohan so the teen was unable to see his face, but the smallest of the trio had an air of complacency about him, a complacency that was neither arrogant nor retreating.
"I told you I am not here to reek havoc on the your world, Kakarott. I am here to reclaim what is mine," Vegeta said.
"Nothing here belongs to you," Gohan spat as he approached. Vegeta turned and eyed Gohan closely until the young man stood beside Sixteen. Vegeta's broad, refined features were reserved and disconcertingly static, disconcerting at least to Gohan.
"What do you want if you don't want to fight?" Goku asked.
Vegeta looked at Goku and crossed his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner. Which hardly fooled anyone present. "My mate and my son," he stated simply.
Goku's jaw fell and his eyes went wide as saucers at Vegeta's declaration, his entire posture going limp. Gohan dropped his brow into a scowl and glared at the Saiya-jin prince. Sixteen remained passive towards the conversation in general and no more responded to those words than he had the rest.
"What! You mean… you're saying you came back to marry Bulma!" Goku exclaimed, his voice rising higher, almost into a squeak.
Vegeta's calm façade finally broke as he uncrossed his arms and glowered at the Saiya-jin. "Of course not! I will take her, along with Trunks, back to the Southern Galaxy with me! Marriage! Fah, you are sentimental as always, Kakarott!"
"What makes you think she'd want to go off with you?" Gohan asked. "After what you've done?"
Vegeta frowned and turned his face away from the group. "I do not know if she will," he admitted, "but I intend to ask."
"You won't force her," Goku said, all seriousness returning to his tone.
"Why would I desire an unwilling mate, Kakarott?"
"So if she says no you will accept her decision?" Goku asked.
"No. I will stay until I convince her to come back with me."
"And your patience," a new voice intoned from above. Gohan, his father, and Vegeta tilted their heads up and saw a figure wearing a long, flapping cape hovering twenty meters above them, his ki unreadable, "is legendary. Isn't it, Vegeta?"
"Mr. Piccolo," Gohan said quietly, his voice sad and filled with loss. In the weeks following Vegeta's betrayal Gohan's mother cracked down on his visiting Piccolo. She blamed the Namek-jin for her son's violent reaction. Now it was a rare occasion when Gohan saw his former mentor.
"Piccolo!" Goku hailed. "Long time no see!"
The Namek-jin grunted before floating down to the ground, landing several feet apart from the group. His dark purple ki blending seamlessly with the night, rendering his tall, powerful build almost invisible beneath the stark whiteness of his cape. "Vegeta, though it is against my better judgment, I am here to warn you," Piccolo said.
"Warn me? Of what?" Vegeta asked warily, expecting the Namek to issue a threat, which given their history was not inconceivable, nor would it be unwarranted.
"I think he's talking about me."
For the second time that night, the group, Piccolo now included, moved as one to find the origin of a new speaker entering their precarious discussion.
Like with Piccolo, the warriors, Saiya-jin and mechanical alike hadn't sensed the man approach. He was suddenly behind Goku, Gohan and Sixteen; bright red robes still against the breeze. His face clear of the age yet his long black hair had many streaks of white. It took everyone—except Sixteen, who had no data on the man inputted into his memory banks since his reconstruction—several moments to recognize the new arrival.
In the end it was the dot tattoos on his forehead like the six side of a die that identified him.
"K-Krillin?" Goku asked with uncertainty and no small amount of hope.
Gohan blinked at the small man, dismissing what his eyes told him. This man, though small like his second oldest friend, couldn't really be Krillin. Even in the intricate robes he wore, the stranger looked thin. He lacked Krillin's stocky, but well-defined physique. And his hair was the color of an older person's, a decade at most from total grayness. Finally there was the set of the man's face. Gohan could feel the chill emanating from the man's expression, a coldness that could sear flesh. His eyes, narrow and black, somewhat thawed the chill, they burned with hatred alien to the man Gohan knew so well six years ago.
No, this man couldn't be Krillin. Krillin was dead. Lost to them in the Room of Spirit and Time.
Gohan was still in the process of dismissing this stranger wearing Krillin's flesh when his father ran over to the man. Gohan turned to Piccolo and was about to ask the Namek-jin if the stranger was the reason he came to warn Vegeta but Vegeta's rough shout cut the air first.
"Kakarott! Don't go near him!"
Vegeta, with a strange fascination, watched the next few moments occur in slow motion. He vaguely grasped Kakarott saw a friend when he looked at the little man, but Vegeta saw something else entirely. He sought the simple, hard truth when he appraised ally and enemy alike, and what he saw in Krillin's eyes was nothing short of impending attack.
The only thing that took Vegeta by surprise was that his eyes, as well as his senses, missed the formation of the six inch, spade-shaped ki blade extending from Krillin's fist, and the moment it slid into Kakarott's upper left chest area when the fool came into range. Kakarott stilled, and Vegeta could not help but picture the look on the Saiya-jin's face. An expression mingled with shock, confusion… and pain.
Kakarott's son shook off his surprise at the attack and ran with the Namek-jin towards to two warriors connected by a knife of pure energy.
"Orenji sakisomeru kasui-ki," Krillin said in a low voice. Gohan and Piccolo stopped in their tracks—the boy gasping in horror—and stared on as dozens of long, thin yellow spikes sprouted out of Kakarott's left shoulder. Even Vegeta could not deny the tremor of nausea that traveled though him at the sight. Nor could Vegeta begrudge Kakarott his response to the attack. Throwing his head back, Kakarott unleashed a howl of pure agony.
"Krillin!" Gohan and the Namek-jin yelled together, running once more. Kakarott's scream died to a tight-throated wheezing as he fell to his knees, revealing the little man's face, and he was looking straight at Vegeta. Kakarott haltingly lifted his right arm and reached for his ravaged shoulder and Krillin pulled his hand away leaving the ki inside the Saiya-jin. Then Krillin took several steps back, eyeing Vegeta still. Vegeta admired the ruthlessness of that action. Even if Kakarott got himself to a healer, or found a senzu, it would do him little good. Not with that "blossom" of ki lodged in his shoulder, the technique was the perfect way to keep an opponent incapacitated.
"Krillin, what have you done?" the boy asked when he reached his father, his horror twisting upward after getting a good look at the injury.
The Namek stood in front of the Saiya-jin shielding them from further attack. Krillin didn't acknowledge either of his former comrades then blurred away from them and next reappeared less than five feet in front of Vegeta. Vegeta used Zanzoken and sped into the air, transforming to Super Saiya-jin simultaneously. Krillin remained on the ground; he didn't follow Vegeta's rise with his gaze or his with body, he stood in place staring straight ahead. Vegeta expected the little man to try an assault and was momentarily bewildered when the attack didn't come.
"Eh?"
Vegeta felt an odd prickling trip his senses and looked out the corner of his eye just before using Zanzoken to avoid a deadly arc from Krillin's ki blade.
Fast! Vegeta thought, he hadn't seen the other man move! Wait. Vegeta cast a quick glance down at the ground and stopped his rapid movement through the air when he saw Krillin standing in the same place as before. This surprise didn't hinder the Prince's highly trained senses enough to distract him from that same prickling sensation which once again came from behind him.
How? Vegeta blurred away again… and only barely managed to cease all motion when Krillin and his blade cropped up in his path. The point of the blade hovering less than a centimeter from Vegeta's gut before he sped away again. This time Vegeta powered up to the maximum Super Saiya-jin allowed, anticipating yet another anticipation of his actions from Krillin. Counting on the boost to increase his speed and reaction time.
Vegeta and Krillin continued their sky dance, with Vegeta locked into a constant effort to dodge an unending array of ki blades stabbed and swung at him. Krillin was everywhere at once, literally, waiting for Vegeta to react a micro second too slowly, then nowhere whenever Vegeta managed to launch a counter attack. This cat and mouse game dragged on and Vegeta felt fatigue tug at him, the act of exerting his body to such high speeds wore him down as thoroughly as any pugilism. Vegeta thought he'd have to jack up his power to the next level when he realized Krillin, the one on the ground, hadn't moved an inch since the battle began. Evading another stab at his throat, Vegeta put everything he had into one burst of super speed and streaked down towards the original Krillin, zigzagging around the army of knife wielding clones and at the same time charged up for a killing blast.
While Gohan attended to his father, Piccolo and Android Sixteen watched the surreal battle engaged above them. Thousands of yellow crescents crowded the nighttime sky like miniature moons, and they were all the non-combative on the ground could use to follow the motions of Vegeta and the plethora of Krillins. Piccolo was at a loss to explain what he was seeing. At first, the Namek-jin assumed Krillin was utilizing Shinoken against Vegeta—splitting his ki evenly with clones of his original form—but soon it was irrefutable that was unlikely. There were at times an upwards of two hundred Krillins chasing after Vegeta, each one equal in power, a feat impossible to pull off with just Shinoken.
How is Krillin doing this? What is this technique? Piccolo wondered. He looked away from the aerial battle and fixed his gaze on the lone Krillin standing immobile several meters away, his red-clad form turned away.
"Piccolo!" Gohan called, and Piccolo reluctantly removed his gaze from the small human and placed his attention the Saiya-jin. "We have to get him to Dende's!" the young man said, his voice high and cracked with hysteria as he knelt in front of father. Bracing the older Saiya-jin's slumped form carefully so as not to jar the arm riddled with spines. The ki did fill the wound completely however, preventing blood blood loss—even the initial stab wound was corked with ki.
Thank heavens for small favors, Piccolo thought, at least Son won't bleed to death.
"It wouldn't do any good, Gohan," Piccolo said. "The spines will hinder any healing techniques used."
"We have to help him somehow!" Gohan cried.
"I've never seen anything quite like this, Krillin may be the only one who can remove the ki infesting your father."
Gohan went silent for a moment, then he said, "Sixteen, please come and take my father to Bulma's."
Without comment the android strode over to the Saiya-jin. Sixteen's huge hands clamped on either side of Goku's torso under his limp arms, and with unerring gentleness lifted Goku up, the Saiya-jin's head lolling. Next, the android's feet rose three feet off the ground before he flew at a moderate pace towards the living space belonging to the Briefs. Drifting unmolested past Krillin's inert figure. Gohan stood up and now focused on Krillin, his eyes burning with confusion and blame.
"Wait, Gohan," Piccolo said.
"No, he's going to take them out of my father right now!"
"Don't act rashly. We need to find out what he wants and what he's capable of first," Piccolo told the young man, then pointed up into the sky at the display Vegeta and his "opponents" whirling through the sky were putting on. "Until we can understand his tactics we could end up in the same predicament as Vegeta up there."
"My father can't wait, Piccolo! He's suffering!" Gohan's ki spiked sharply and his body flickered in the darkness with a golden aura. The spiked hair on his head altering from jet black to pale blonde when intense yellow flames engulfed his slender frame.
Piccolo turned to the Saiya-jin and snarled, "Yes, he can wait, boy! He is in pain, yes, but he's not dying! So unless you want to lose control again and risk all our lives," Piccolo winced internally at that, knowing the statement was pointed and cruel, "I suggest you make use of your brain instead."
Piccolo had to suppress another wince when Gohan seemed to… deflate right before his eyes. Falling out of Super Saiya-jin, the young man slumped over and gasped violently, his hot gaze cooled and dropped to the ground. Piccolo turned away and tried unsuccessfully to locate the warriors battling in the sky. The Namek-jin never could tolerate the sight of his former protégé racked with guilt. Especially when it was guilt cultured from a tragic act he did as a child.
Although Gohan's family and friends tried their hardest to relieve the boy of his guilt nothing seemed to do the trick. Not even Yamucha's forgiveness helped relieve Gohan's conscious. Gohan's remorse was so deep he would carry it until he died. He may even take it into the afterlife.
"Good," Piccolo began as he watched the sky. "We'll wait and watch until we discern Krillin's agenda. Then and only then will we act." Piccolo grew silent, and strongly regretted how he maneuvered Gohan's emotions, raw still even after all these years. Piccolo, and eventually Gohan, refocused their attention on Krillin and Vegeta's battle, following the pair as closely as they were able.
Krillin, the focal point, the original one might even say, intensified his concentration and projected his body, his thoughts, into the future. Divining the Saiya-jin's movements before he made them. Krillin sent projection after projection of himself into the future to intercept Vegeta, intent on butchering his quarry. Vegeta's speed was formidable, however, and he managed nimble evasions to save him from literally thousands of cuts and stabs wounds. But only barely, Krillin knew.
Krillin foresaw Vegeta's decision to come after him a full two seconds before he made it and Krillin sent himself into the future directly in Vegeta's path, fully committed to catching the Saiya-jin with the flechettes, but also as a delaying tactic. By fixing his destination Vegeta unwittingly narrowed down all his possible futures, allowing Krillin to set a trap that even Vegeta's nearly unlimited speed could not save him from. Krillin stood in place and forced his form out of sync with not only time, but slightly out of space as well. Around him his temporal duplicates eight all together, moved through time and encircled him. Each even more out of sync than their anchor to the point they were invisible to the naked eye, then they flew upward and halted once they reached the spot Vegeta would stop after his attack hit Krillin.
Vegeta escaped the utility obstacles thrown up in front of him and sped towards Krillin, flying at the human with his right arm outstretched. Krillin sensed Vegeta's energy rise rapidly and watched as the Saiya-jin unleashed it at him in a tight, devastating beam of ki. The beam reached him in an instant, detonating upon impact with the ground Krillin stood over. Then Krillin's doppelgangers, those that had been actively attacking Vegeta, in a concerted effort blinked out of existence, folded together and returned to their original place in space and time—inside the focal. Casting the illusion the hit had been successful.
Vegeta hovered in midair in the exact spot Krillin predicted, the Saiya-jin's breath streaming out in huffs, his arm still outstretched as he stared at the dust cloud his ki sent up. In the space of a heartbeat the temporal projections shifted back into normal reality, encircling Vegeta, then as one lunged forward with their ki blades… and hit nothing but air. The Krillins' astonishment did not last; they scanned through time, backtracking Vegeta's history two years and learned of his teleportation technique.
While cursing himself for assuming the ship Vegeta arrived on used transportor technology to send the Prince planet side, Krillin retreated from normal time altogether. If Vegeta possessed a talent similar to Goku's Instant Transmission Krillin needed to rethink his confrontation with the Saiya-jin. Also, Krillin knew when it came to Saiya-jin where there was one new incredible skill acquired, there will certainly be others.