Summary of Last Chapter:
Four years pass since the first chapter and Vegeta awakens after another severe beating from his father. He eavesdrops on a conversation between King Vegeta and Frieza, in which the two agree upon Frieza's withdrawal from Planet Vegeta's affairs in exchange for Vegeta. Gokou and Raditz make a brief appearance towards the end, as well as a ten-year-old Bulma, who witnesses Vegeta as he is dragged into Frieza's ship against his will.

Chapter Three – Intimidation



Flashback

A gentle flurry of snow drizzled into swirls of curlicues, a complex design of crystallized ice that added a bitter bite against one's nose. A pair of feet sank deep into the hills of white, freezing and leaving frostbites from the sole to the quivering knees of a certain Saiya-jin no Ouji. The dulled eyes never noticed the beauties of each unique sliver of crystal, but rather the cruelties of the never-ending winter climate of a place he liked to call, Hell on Ice.

Lips once smooth and blushed were frozen into a deep purple, drying and chapping so that the center of the lower lip cracked and a thin trace of blood slid down his chin. The trail of crimson left small drops of dye onto the pure snow for only a short while before another flurry froze the blood in its place, sealing the chapped skin for it to break another time. Snowflakes, white and innocent, graced his dark lashes and thick eyebrows, and left his tall flame of hair frozen in ice and snow.

Intimidated by the oncoming snow, his body shook and felt immobile. Far worse was an emptiness in his stomach that drove him mad with hunger. He was still unsure whether the quaking of his body was due to the extreme cold or to the fact that he had not eaten in days. Or perhaps it was the fact that he had not slept for just as long. Whatever it was, he had been out in the cold for a week and the numbness of his senses was finally kicking in.

Vegeta collapsed into the snow.



Flashback

"Look at him," Zarbon laughed, speaking out despite the fact that Frieza had ordered everyone to 'shut up' and get out of his way. Normally, all of Frieza's orders were directed to everyone except for Zarbon, who was, quite frankly, the Ice-jin's finest pet. Zarbon was spoiled beyond belief and was given privileges that no other man were given the opportunity to obtain. "Look at the Saiyan boy."

Frieza smirked, pleased to see that the Saiyan had been delivered to him safe and alive, though he did notice the purpling bruise on the left eye and the blood matted at the end of his furry brown tail. The twelve-year-old Vegeta was glaring defiantly up at the two aliens who continued to observe him jeeringly, while shivering from head to toe at the unusually cold temperature of this strange alien planet.

"He's shivering. What a weakling."

"Now, now, Zarbon," Frieza intervened, curling a smile that Vegeta labeled as something he would hate for the rest of his life. "You have to remember that his home is like an oven and therefore he has never experienced cold weather."

"He even tried to ki blast the snow when he exited the ship!" exclaimed Egnaro, one of the men that were assigned to bring Vegeta to him, and the room burst into fits of laughter.

Vegeta's cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment as he clearly remembered how stupefied he was when he first saw snow and the flakes that sprinkled down like light rain. How was he to know that it was harmless? It was possible that this planet was poisonous and those flakes could have burned his skin. You just never know what to expect in foreign planets…

Nevertheless, his embarrassment and the anger evoked by the constant teasing was beginning to force his fists to clench.

"Silence!" Frieza barked out and the laughter ceased immediately, minus the one poor soul who choked out a snicker, and out of annoyance, Frieza took the effort to put him out of existence. "I told you all to shut up!" He paused—a deathly silence—and then chuckled. "Blasting the snow, eh?"

Another someone snickered, and Vegeta lifted his head up arrogantly.

"Well, if our Monkey Prince cannot handle this cold, then he, by far, will not be able to meet up to my standards and will be incapable of purging planets of harsher conditions. …What a shame." Frieza's narrow eyes scanned the shaking twelve-year-old up and down until he met Vegeta's eyes, which seemed to look him up and down daringly. Frieza frowned.

"Well then, every week, leave the boy out in the cold for a maximum of four days. He will eat in the snow, sleep in the snow, train in the snow, hike in the snow, and do everything in the snow until the cold will settle into his survival instincts. And don't feed him. If he is to survive, then he is to find the food on his own. EGNARO! I'M PLACING YOU RESPONSIBLE FOR VEGETA!"

"Yes, Lord Frieza!"

Fear and dread burned inside Vegeta's stomach, and anticipation was the last thing on his mind when he thought about living out in that white thing called 'snow' for four days, and the planet's days were by far longer than Planet Vegeta by several hours. It was then that Vegeta tuned out the jeers coming from Frieza's men and realized the full extent of what his new life was going to be like. For the first time since he was a young boy, he felt intimidation.

End of Flashback

That had been four years ago and Vegeta had never quite gotten used to the cold, though granted he did manage to last longer and longer during each "training session". This time, the strict orders had been extended from four days to a full week and those three extra long days were sheer agony. For a while, he had kept up his ki, realizing that ki warmed him up in such cases, but he could only stay powered up for so long. Hunger and weariness had its way of weakening a person.

The wind swept through his hair and added a chill to his already frozen body. With stiff limbs, he pushed himself so that he rolled onto his back and brushed the snow off of his face. A numbing dullness crept inside of him. He should just lay there, die, and end the misery. He had thought about suicide several times. What the hell was the purpose of life, anyway? A person's fate at the end of life was to die, wasn't it? And with the pathetic life that he possessed, it was better to cut the process short, wasn't it?

Yeah. Let's just lie down, close our eyes, and go to sleep—A LONG sleep. I'd like a little rest. The voice giggled. Don't you?

Rest would be good. He silently thought about the turn of events in his life, from the excruciating six years of constant belittling from his father, to the four years of harsh survival under Lord Frieza's dictatorship. His childhood upbringing had been twisted into a life that was definitely not worth living. Really, what was the purpose?

He still failed to get used to the fact that during nights, his roommates would pull pranks on him or beat him for no reason—for snoring? The Saiyan prince never snored! Then he thought about those times when he was placed inside of a regeneration tank, only to find that people whom he pissed off would tamper with the mechanics and set the machine in reverse, causing it to slowly kill and deteriorate his existence.

It happened quite often, actually.

He thought about fighting for food, the space, and the benefits that everyone competed against each other for. They served no purpose but to suck up to Lord Frieza and receive his approval, and what did that lead to? Humiliation? Inferiority? Was it even worth it?

Vegeta, let's go to sleep.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.



Flashback

A large orange hand, curled and fisted like a rock, jabbed the side of his face, knocking out the consciousness he had fought so hard to protect. He felt life slip away from his grasp but as fate was always cruel to him, he found that he just could not die. He just…couldn't. They, his captors, would not allow it. His life had been worth the loss of a planet that Lord Frieza had control over; he was worth a little too much to be killed by some senseless beating.

Influence.

Manipulate.

Acclimatize.

But never go so far as to kill him.

Vegeta felt the large, warm hand wrap around the back of his neck and the feel of that scaly, dry skin set the fine hairs on his back to prickle with trepidation. He felt light-headed, yet at the same time, it was as if his head would explode at the pressure caused by the gripping clamp around his throat. Blood boiled in his face as his abuser refused to allow it to circulate.

"We have a way of finding runaways," Egnaro, his captor, snarled, relishing on the inaudible whimper emitted from the Saiya-jin's mouth. "When Frieza assigns you a planet to purge, you do not take that opportunity to escape. You legally belong to Lord Frieza. No one, not even you, can break the legal contract."

"…Screw…the…contract…"

His body was heaved against the wall of their room and Vegeta flew through about ten walls before he found the power to stop himself. The young teenager flew back, his anger and pride the only motivations to pummel and hurt the one who hurt him. Rage welled up and frustration beat against his relinquished soul. Trapped. Always trapped.

He fought like the trained Saiyan, reveling in his current speed and power, relishing as his own bloodied fist slammed into his face, but disappointed when his attack did not harm his abuser. He forced himself to halt when the orange hand grabbed onto the tip of his tail and crushed it with a grip too indescribable to explain. Pain rushed up his spine and rang like a high-pitched alarm inside his brain.

Then, because of a movement he did not see, he was finally knocked out and did not wake up until three days later.

End of Flashback

His eyebrows fought his frozen face and furrowed at the memory of the pain that seeped into his body for days after his tail had been injured. Heaviness set against his body as his eyes slowly opened…and closed…opened…and closed… Though his eyes faintly saw it, his brain failed to register the fact that a group of men—Egnaro being one of them—trudged their way through the snow and hauled him. He did not hear the belittling insults and he did not see the mocking sneers on their faces. All he thought about was the cold…the hunger…and the pain…

Why could he not just die?

End of Flashback

The steady rhythm of the sound of hard heels clicking against the floor came to an abrupt halt.

"Name?"

"Vegeta."

"Age?"

"Twenty-two."

"Race?"

"Saiyan."

"Status?"

"Higher than yours so move aside," Vegeta ordered, sick and tired of this process that happened once every month for a reason he could not comprehend. For all he knew and cared, it was probably just some stupid routine performed only for the sake of wasting time. Might as well skip the rest of the fifty questions and face Frieza.

He shoved past the weak guard and the other trembling elites. Nothing about Vegeta moved except his legs and, occasionally, the black pupils at the corner of his eyes to glare down at his inferiors. His back was straight, his posture one of arrogance and power, an outer shell that succeeded in concealing the burning layers of insecurity and fear.

His face was immobile and emotionless. Years of training and harsh survival helped develop a fake outer identity that countered his true self and he protected his secret vulnerability with the only thing he knew much about—his physical strength. No one but a select few knew about his instability and as far as he knew, he wanted to keep things that way.

"Vegeta, you're in for it now," laughed a skinny twig-like creature with dots for eyes and a thin line for lips. "I don't know why Frieza called you, but whatever it is, I have the feeling that you'll receive the biggest beating of your life. You know you always screw up."

The alien laughed as he jabbed his elbow against the side of his comrade, who began to laugh, too. Vegeta's walk halted and he turned to look at the character that dared to make such a comment about him. It was strange indeed that Frieza called to see him, for it usually meant a punishment of some kind. He could not quite figure out what he had done this time, but then again, before most of his beatings, he was always left clueless.

"It's what you get…for being such an insufficient failure…"

You remember that line, Vegeta, don't you? Weak fools! All of them! Nobody should mess with the prince of all Saiyans!

Without any warning, Vegeta's eyes flared into the color of black flames just as his face transfixed itself out of the monotonous expression and into one of complete rage. His ki rose to an unbelievable height, destroying all scouters at a ten-kilometer radius. Swifter than one could even think about blinking, a hand, larger and stronger and defined by strength, grabbed his insulter by his face and crushed the thin bones without any effort. The sound was agonizing to the ears of those nearby and when someone attempted to stop him, Vegeta ruthlessly killed him as well without a single word of caution.

Aggression inflated this sudden mood swing and his ki exploded with power once more. The dim lighting of the hallway was illuminated by a blinding blue light so brilliant that even the blind could not help but squint their eyes. Power surged into his hands as he threw the lifeless—and faceless—opponent into the staring audience. A voice that was not recognized as his own let out a demonic laugh unrivalled by anyone aboard the ship and words slid off of his tongue like venom.

"Let that be a lesson to you", followed by an insult spoken in his native tongue.

And he slowly walked away, ignoring the pointed stares directed at him. He had wasted enough time as it is on those "pansies" and Lord Frieza was still waiting for him at the end of the hallway.

As he walked however, he felt himself blacken out for a split second and the aggressive face quickly melted back into the monotonous expression of his previous one. He stopped, turned, and cluelessly looked at the chaos behind him, not at all remembering the events that took place just a few seconds prior.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't understand why we must send Vegeta to accomplish this task," Zarbon growled, fully annoyed that such a pleasurable mission was placed upon his chief rival. "Lord Frieza, let me do the honors of destroying the planet."

Frieza frowned in disapproval, which was a sign that meant Zarbon had better not argue against his intentions or else he would lose that pretty face of his. Frieza's orders had been a clear, well-thought out plan that was produced only for the sake of his own amusement. For the past few years as Vegeta's power began to increase and the prince began rising as one of his most powerful men, he found it rather funny and interesting to see exactly what it would take before the Saiyan would explode and fall into those awfully weird mood swings.

You know… That one mood swing where he's reserved one minute, aggressive the other, and intimidated like a child the next. It was a strange, odd quality that he often enjoyed provoking.

"You know very well of my reasons for sending Vegeta to destroy his own planet," Frieza said, glancing at Zarbon and then at the window where he saw the vastness of space. "If Vegeta fails, I can assure you that you will become the back up."

At that moment, the doors of Frieza's private room were thrust open and a rather sullen Vegeta strolled inside. At the sight of him, the discussion ceased and they turned their full attention upon the young man.

"You're late," Frieza said abruptly. "I expected you to be punctual, Vegeta! You've been trained to be punctual for ten years now. I expect you to be smart enough, even if you're a dumb monkey, to comprehend what punctuality means."

"My pardon, Lord Frieza," Vegeta murmured as he forced himself on one knee and lowered his head in false respect. "Your annoying guards prevented me from being PUNCTUAL."

The emphasis on the last word caused Frieza's left eye to twitch. However, he ignored the snide response and continued with the point of the scheduled meeting. He sat back, fully enjoying the Saiyan's submissive position.

"I've noticed that for the past few years, you've done very well with purging planets and you're beginning to lack the incompetence that you possessed during the first few years that you've been my property." He paused for a moment, letting that last word sink into Vegeta's head. "I'm very impressed, especially, with your latest mission. I know you've come back only a day ago, but I have another mission that I will assign you."

Vegeta bit back a growl.

"Another one?!"

"Isn't that what I said?"

"To which planet?!" Vegeta questioned, outraged with this news. His latest mission had been a tough one and he had looked forward into doing nothing but train for the next month or so.

"DON'T raise your voice at me, Vegeta!" Frieza hissed and the Saiyan reluctantly lowered his head again. "Your next assigned planet will be Planet Vegeta."

It took longer than it should for the full depth of the mission to sink into his head. His eyes widened the slightest as realization struck that he was being sent to the home he had not set foot on for a decade now. Memories of his father, of that dark cell room, of the pitying glances from Nappa, to even that little turquoise-haired girl rushed into his head like scenes of a slide projector. He swallowed a growing lump in his throat and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Wh-why?"

"Because you're the best—next to Zarbon and my Ginyu Force, of course," Frieza said nonchalantly, enjoying the odd expressions that passed before the prince's panicked face. "And to be quite frank with you, I'd like to see if your ties to your home will be stronger than your obedience and loyalty to me. It's high time that you meet a challenge worth accomplishing, don't you agree?"

"I will not set foot on my planet to destroy it," Vegeta refused bitterly, his fists clenching next to his side. "It's dishonorable. I refuse to disgrace myself. Besides, you would be going back against your own word." He spat his next words out. "I was worth the safety of the planet. I refuse to acknowledge that my ten years in Hell has been spent for absolutely nothing!"

"Well then it's too bad, Vegeta. It's either you follow my direction or you'll be sure that Zarbon here will see to a fitting punishment." A flicker of fear crept in Vegeta's eyes. "…And exactly when have I ever kept my word? You know me better than that, monkey boy." The disobedient frown on Vegeta's face compelled him to be just a tad bit nicer. "Oh come now. Don't just think of it as a mission. I was being quite honest a moment back when I spoke about your excellent behavior as of late. As a reward, I am offering you a vacation. I'll give you a year to catch up on what you've been missing at home. However, by the end of that year, I expect that the planet's population has been demolished."



Flashback

Inside the rather warm palace, Vegeta's frozen body slowly thawed and he felt life and color return from the tip of his nose to the tip of his toes. A mix of indescribable emotions knotted inside of him as he turned his face to the side and stared at the tray of poor scraps of food. He shut his eyes and clenched his fists tightly, his entire body shaking and quivering with anger and disappointment.

…So he surpassed the month's training session out in the cold after all—and he hadn't died.

…We wanted to freeze to death out there and die, didn't we? A sad, disappointed sigh. Perhaps we can try again. There are plenty of other ways to die, you know.

The sixteen-year-old sat up on the hard bed and looked at the tray of food. He grabbed the scraps and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing hungrily and replenishing his rather empty stomach. As his stomach grew inflated, so did the anger.

"No," he murmured to himself as he shoved another handful of the mystery food into his mouth. "I won't disgrace myself with such a dishonorable death. I have other things to accomplish before I die."

Silent cry. …LIKE WHAT?! Exactly what's more important than leaving this miserable life?!

Vegeta swallowed and curled a smirk.

"Revenge."

End of Flashback

"Fine. I will take on the mission," Vegeta said abruptly and he stood back onto his feet. "I will go if you will promise me that full year—Ice-jin time, not Saiyan."

Frieza lifted his brow at the sudden change of mind and wondered what triggered such a conversion. His curiosity was cut short when Vegeta continued to speak.

"When will I leave?"

"In three days."

"I request that you will not take part in my mission. You will not send Pretty-Boy over there to check up on me, as well as any of your other men. I want the full year to myself to redeem the loss of my ten years on Planet Vegeta. I will ensure you an accomplished mission afterwards."

"Very well."

With a final bow, the Saiyan Prince turned on his heels and stepped out of the throne room.

"…This had better be one promise that you will keep…"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The starlight, intruding through the cracks of what the white draperies failed to conceal, teased along the cheeks of the sleeping young lady, glowing a soft blue against the black surroundings that covered every corner. Slender eyebrows slanted, as did her lips, in a moment of discomfort and distress, and they were highlighted by a light spray of perspiration that beaded her forehead. Her chest swam up and down at an abnormal pace as her body moved and became entangled in the white silk sheets.

A soft cry escaped her lips as voices danced inside her dream; voices that held no faces nor any signs of life.

I try so hard… it wailed, grasping onto her and burying its faceless form against her. I try so hard but I can't do it. Help me.

Oh but you can't help me, you worthless, spoiled creature. And you will never be able to stop me from what is to come.

…Don't. Let's not think of what will come. Let us focus on the now. Let—

Let this message be solely dedicated to you, who hold comforts to everything…

I want comforts too… Stop trying to make me cry. I'm not supposed to cry.

I stand here in the shadows away from the light—because light was never given to me. I will watch your every movement, every waking minute of your day and every sleeping second of your night.

She didn't do anything wrong. Let's leave her out of this.

When you least expect it, my hand will entwine itself in your well-cared-for hair while the other will curl around the neck that had never once been wounded or marked upon. I will press on with my grip and I will bear my angry eyes upon your frightened ones, squeezing and constricting, tightening and destroying all that you had had that I had never been given. I will continue to murder, even as those frightened eyes roll behind your head and your body, which was once strong and full of life, will grow limp.

I won't do what he did.

I will do everything that "he" did. What they "both" did. My wrath will befall on you. And I will make sure that you'll live through the turmoil that people like you have never experienced. I'm watching you…

Bulma Briefs sat up from her bed and her first instincts were to warily eye the darkness which very much surrounded her. Her form shaking nervously and with fright, she slowly and unsteadily dipped her legs out of bed and paced herself over to the window. She violently pulled back the white curtains and the starlight flooded the room, diminishing every bit of the dark that had frightened her so. But no one was there and no one was watching her.

Yet not at all comforted by what her eyes could see, she stayed awake the rest of the night.



To Be Continued…