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THE KILLERS ARMS
by Ardy-Bo-Bardy
Chapter I
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Strange, it appeared that one took the smaller things to be so much larger when annoyed. The lines of faces and crooks in noses. Leaping out as if to infect. The gardener under his watch was no different in this matter. His elongated body and steady gray eyes, reminding Vegeta of an old packhorse. With a wispy salt-and-pepper mane, sticking up and out. Placed upon the grass, tobacco smoke swirled about like a decomposing quilt. Split in parts as it slowly disappeared into nothingness. He truly was the ugliest fellow.
Strife, conflict, challenge- it was a ruthless eroticism. A salacious hunger one might say. Carnal anticipation of the final blow. The final outcry of a paramour in battle. Vegeta treasured that haze in their eyes, the semblance of a child. For that one moment he would be their everything, their giver, their reaper, their all. Out where no one went. Out where the dust swirled with no hope in settling. Vegeta stood. Across the nothingness he stared, the desolate land where he and Kakarott had once fought. Tightening both arms the man's teeth grit. Aching to slash that bitter memory open. Waiting, watching, and hoping that it would soon die. He felt barren, tired, and for the first time in a long time, lost for an answer.
How he wished to drive the knife deeper, to upset the balance. In his head he had captured the planet he stood upon. The tree trunks snapping like a baby's arm, hills gashing rivers and streams. Both hands would strangle her mountainous neck, as boulders cracked like a woman's skull. This world was weak, with no armor in the least. Not even Kakarott. Disregard - In an enfeebled way made the ache of defeat less tormenting. Yet he could not remember defeat, only deadlock.
The air was becoming cooler now. The little goose bumps along Vegeta's forearms a good indication. Kakarott, the grass flattened beneath his boots. So many questions wrapped his head. Bitter and hateful questions. Ones which he wished to carve into Kakarott's skull with an ice-pick. It was a hateful escapade by blood, he grit.
How would father look upon me now?
Landing on the front lawn, before the bulbous building know as Capsule Corp, noted by its huge black letters. His brow rippled to the thought of entering. Knowing what waited for him. Within the depths of everything, the depths of his stolen ascendancy he felt compelled to linger. In the darkness, where the light would flee to bath only Kakarott, haloing about him like a marveling child, just to obtain what he had. The grass didn't crackle as he walked, it was far too soft for that. Up above a billion stars glistened, like moonlight upon a wound, fresh; as the body still quivered.
Resting both hands atop the bench, his face cast a dark shape. A smear, not really a face at all. More like a shadow or ghost. Even his reflection was disconcerted. The chair shifted slightly as the prince sat down. Its legs screaming like a banshee. Never did it cease but for the wakening.
"Vegeta?" a voice cut the hum in his ears. "What's up?" His eyes caught the colour of her skin, shifting across her collar bones as she breathed, anyone was beautiful at that moment. In the reflection of kitchen paint Vegeta found himself alongside that tabletop. Virile limbs swollen with acrimonious bee stings. He treasured that haze in their eyes, the semblance of a child. For that one moment he would be their everything, their giver, their reaper, their all. Sweat began to form like condensation on a window. Much like the one before him. Studying the sensual reflection, arousal grew tenfold. Her body buckled down with breasts flat upon the table-top. Face pushed bloodied into the wood. Spectacular eyes. Tearing the backside from her red dress, little crescents dotted the woman's back. Blood upon the cupboards, torn hair in his hand. Vegeta ached for her sounds. The type when all respect for ones own self was lost. Given to him. The table skid tremendously as he forced himself forward. The dip of her back deepening with each avid thrust. Cry Out!
"Hello?" The word echoed like a bell "Vegeta?" Relieving both eyes from the wall. Bulma only cocked her head. "You alright?" Seeing her there, intact, smiling, and content. His hands almost lashed out with the snarl of a beast king. Any creature would have been welcoming at present. Anybody or anything, just something to call him greater.
Out beneath the porch light, insects swarmed. Rushing to harm themselves for something they couldn't help but be drawn to. Softly he ran her name along the inside of his lips. Two days felt as if a universe of time, going on like a song. For the first time in his twenty six years, Vegeta knew the intoxication of sexual relations. It had been an entire battle in a second and for many bitter reasons - he was glad it had been with Kakarott's wife. Absently clamping the crook in his neck Vegeta closed his eyes. Remembering the butterfly flight of her breath - damn marvelous.
Last night there had been rain, winding the window like a widow's tear.Vegeta had seen many of those, at the corner of his eye. Porcelain; wasting, floating, drifting, and fading away. Tonight the warmth of his skin reminded him of certain things. Things that had no name or were at all definite memories. Like the aroma of Jasmine or grit of sand. Tracing a pair of random headlights across the ceiling, his eyes finally closed. Sleep came then, the lightest death.
Waking to the sound of an unknown thing, a woman sat at the dresser, naked and enwrapped in smoke. Her shoulders were slumped, showing the ridged trail of a tiny spine. She was humming, but still she was cold. He lay there for a moment and a few moments more. The oval mirror sporting her brown pupils through the smoke and starlight. Rising from the mattress Vegeta traced his fingers along the run of her back, each digit bumping over those fine set ribs. Her cigarette burned like a floating eye. Glowing hard as she sucked with force and silence. He had known her for a long, long time. When he looked at her though, he didn't remember fondness, joy or caring. He recalled a time when he wasn't his own man, when he wasn't a man at all. She was that time to him, when forever-space wasn't far enough. Nevertheless he tormented himself like those insects, unable to stop being drawn to her. She was who he was, a part of him, she was Vegeta and always would be.
"You should get that removed, woman" he poked at the tattooon her back "Are you coming to bed or not?" Staring a top her head where pale ears stuck out, she clutched her hands before turning like a swan.
"Liar"
A WEEK EARLIER
Chichi did not make friends often, she got annoyed with people far too easily. Dreading that predestined obligation where you would have to actually make an effort. Entering the corporation premises, she attempted to ignore a small band of Namek-jins who presently milled beneath the maple trees. Conversing with one and other in an unknown tongue, they glanced only momentarily in her direction. A friendly happiness in their faces, a look that made her think - with everything lost, howcould they still be merry. Straightening her posture before the Brief's front entrance, Chichi grit her teeth. An unconcious habit. Swooping along the pastel corridor she inevitably passed the living roomfrom where Kelly, Katie, Karen or whatever her name was, sat. Glancing from the television, in supposed welcome, the brat's common accent played.
"Hey..." She said rather unenthusiastically.
"Hmph..."
Placing her bag upon the bench Chichi stood idly for a moment, before helping herself to a glass of water. The house felt alive, and yet though quiet, she envied the feeling it gave her.Staring out through the window, she waited. Back turned, shoulders stooped,she finally heard theapproach offootsteps.
"Bulma, I ..." she began only to cut herself short. For clear before her stood a rather unexpected demon. For the longest moment the Saiya-jin merely kept his eyes transfixed. Not on Chichi but on the air about them. He appeared to look quite human at a glance, with his stocky and powerful build both within human range, yet that was where the resemblance ceased. He appeared inhumanly alert, overly aware to the surrounding location. To observe the aliens movements a predator came to mind, so silently and gracefully he stalked, with features continually shifting. The longer she watched him, Chichi began to realise that his face appeared to be less human as well. Both eyes sitting just a little too angular, with hair formed into an unruly shape.Was thiswhat her husband was, could have been?
Noticing her intrusive stare, the Saiya-jin quickly mounted a growl. The low rumble suiting such a creature of animalistic fraternization. Peeling backa cupboard door. He removed a loaf of bread and honey from the well stocked shelf. She had seenthe aleinat a distance, with his armor torn and battered. But this warrior stood in what appeared to be quite ordinary clothing; apair of brown trousers and pressed white shirt. Placing her glass within the sink, Chichi sighed aloud before coupling her hands.
"Excuse me" she gathered at her handbag quickly placing the item back upon her shoulder, "I seem to have forgotten your name?" Without even a huffed answer or simple glance in reply the 'man' continued to prepare his sandwich. Inching a little closerChichi bent her head. "Your name please?" gripping the butter knife ever firmer, she wasspun a hungry stare.
"Who are you to ask my name? You will be told if I wish to tell you..." his voice buried itself within the walls, diving within every crack and crevasse. Breeding and multiplying untilChichi felt entirely infected by it.
"Well if you won't tell me then I guess I will just have to refer to you as Saiya-jin...so to answer your question Saiya-jin I am Son Chichi and after all the trouble you've caused me it would do you some good to remember it!"
"Kakarott's wife?" he curiously shot.
"What? No, Son Goku is my husband."
"Kakarott is your idiots true name, woman" he spat.
"No it isn't, he isn't like you... maybe in blood but not at heart, so you will refer to him as Son Goku and nothing else."
"Peh stupid woman. Do you really expect me to take orders from you!" he paused "Remind me to eliminate you first"
"I don't think Goku would like that?"
He wryly smirked."Precisely why I would eliminate you first" Placing down his knife, the man grasped his plate in departure toward the lesser light of the hall.
Two days passed, and by one way or another she found herself back within the Brief's kitchen. Once more in the company of an alien. "Hello again, Vegeta" he turned mechanically toward her voice, recalling the woman as Chichi from across the breakfast counter. Presently he was buttering some toast, with drippings of numerous spreads.
"Kakarott's wife. What do you want?"
"Excuse me" she huffed "Polietness is free. I've come to see Bulma."
"Why?" he bit into his breakfast, before sighing. "The nuisance isn't here."
"I trust you mean Bulma and not that brat" Vegeta chewed in response. "Well tell her a dropped by. I-I better get going" she briskly turned on her heels.
"How'd you learn of my name?" He asked after her. "Am I so interesting that you'd actually seek it out?"
"No." she paused "Gohan, my son... he told me."
The open spaces of the East Side district, drained Chichi of drama. A place where natural melodies played out from the owls and mice. Stopping at a wheat field, which lay adjoined to the old dirt road, Chichi took off her sandals, hoping that just maybe she might get lost. The house lay dark amongst the willows, no smoke from the chimney, no light through the windows. Nudging ill-oiled wounds the old oak door screamed for mercy as she entered, and darkness slipped back from whence it came.Life was an invaluable thing and yet she felt that her own was simply corroding away. All for another,someone so obliviously illiberal. She often wondered how her own mother would have stood in a situation such as this. Would she have crumbled and fallen, or held a metal rod? Biting her lip in the face of weakness or wept persecuted? Chichi supposed that she would never know what her mother may or may not have done, though many a time she imagined that she was watching, waiting for just one moment.
Throwingher purse to the bench top, theone which Goku had bought, Chichi entered the living room. Starlight cut through the windows and she fell into her canyon of a sofa. It was dead quiet. Staring through the low light of night she studied the armchair, some three meters away. She inwardly told herself that its large protruding hump was most probably the washing basket, forming quite by accident a humanoid shape. Though with the use of the word 'human' she found herslef a little ill at ease.
"You took your time" the washing basket rose, forcing Chichi to lunge for her tall potted ferns.
"Vegeta!" She shrieked with the aquiring light. "How did you get into my house? Why are you even in my house? How dare you!"
"I imagined you wouldlive closer to the city, it would take a good while for help to arrive if you ever needed it." Feeling the encumbrance of a papered wall. Chichi straightened in an attempt to appear stronger, to appear with the type of confidence people thought she had. "Hmph... Who'd of thought that you could bare such a powerful half-breed... humans, sly dogs." It was then that he looked at her, deeper than anyone ever had. Hunting a woman.
"Get out of my house..." She slipped from the little space he bestowed. "Get out or else!" Vegeta didn't move, he merely stared for what felt like an eternity. A cruel amount of time, and then, as if he were normal, he began to laugh.
"You are very humorous woman"
"Get out!" she yelled further. "What do you want here!" He slowly bound his arms, proceeding with the longest breath she'd ever heard.
"Nothing... not really." Was his answer, the words without a hint of malice or underlying message. Loweringher hands Chichi suspected that her face also lowered, for Vegeta grunted with something other than disgust. The air was slightly cooler by that stage, thought the room continued to smolder. Watching Vegeta for a moment longe, Chichi rubbed her brow with a small rush of defeat.
"Then if you wish for nothing..." the words came wearily "Leave. I'm tired, feeling old, and... look I'm justtired alright." In an instant and with as much spontaneity as a field of spotted deer,Vegeta put his right foot forward. "W-what are you doing?" she retracted. Extending a limb he shifted toward her abdomen. "Don't you dare! Don't look at me like that either!"
"I shall look at you however I like... Ms. Chichi" his voice was less hostile near the end, brusque yet something finer. The man's enigmatic mind choosing to title her as widowed.
"I'm telling you to leave Vegeta" her voice shuddered. "I won't say it again" he smelt like everything she wanted to hate, wished to cast out of herself. Feeling an animal chew at her stomach, fingers curled and dug, as his face hovered closer and closer. She could smell him.
Silence.
"If you weren't so pathetically weakwoman, I would say that you almost resembled a Saiya-jin"
"Don't insult me." With a scrambled grab Vegeta grazed her lips.
"God dammit woman, stop being so blasted willful!"
"You don't belong here" she tugged at her arm. "I'm married"
"Explain how that matters" He rasped. "Pity that fool's not here to answerany of this"he lowered "Pity he didn't wish to return."
Sex, the smell of it, the heat of it, the shear feeling of another with so much attention in you. Their eyes on only you, their bodies deep in yours. In many ways it was like a drug, for nobody considered the consequences or what if's, it was always in the now where nothing mattered but you. Descending to the blankets an owl hooted by the window, so softly from the old maple tree from where Gohan use to play. Vegeta's body sat laced with scars of war, large and small, thin and thick. Their bodies sat silent in the dark andhe looked at her like a gem, somethinghe wished to roll in his fingers. Trailing the reach of him, Chichi's fingers ran in no particular thought pattern. She felt exposed, like a rabbit on a highway. Running on and on not knowing that escape was on either side of her. Grasping the young mans hand, Vegeta failed to even flex his fingers. All she wished for, was to be protected, to be brought into him like a child. Just to know that she would always have a rain coat like him. Warm, solid and one which didn't let the wind in.
Goku and Chichi seldom made love, though when they did it was beautiful. Chichi felt cruel a lot of the time, too strong for him. She did not mean to be the way she was. But sometimes the little things cannot be helped, we are who we are, we are no more. Closing her eyes tears seeped through the edges. For even then she could see his face in the corner of the room, those eyes.
Chi?
With a smash against the wall Chichi was brought to realise how incredibly loud Vegeta grunted. His regal tone forced through curled lips and bared teeth. For a further hour the pair indulged in each others company, where the meshing of bodies mixed to form something undeniably wrong. With the reach of his second climax Vegeta began to become something other than graceful, and for the first time Chichi noticed a stranger within her. Attempting to rise Vegeta slowly slid down beside her, his body slumberous and flaccid.
"Nothing's to come of this," he tore the air like a client. "I don't wish of it" uplifting herself from the pillows, Chichi wrapped herself in her night gown.
"I wouldn't expect it to..."
"Very well" Rising a hand to her lips, Vegeta precariously slipped back into his clothing. "Where's that annoying brat of yours, should he not be here?" releasinga sigh Chichi just wanted him out.
"I think you should go Vegeta, now... just leave please" she attempted to sound in control but the fact of the matter was, the wall was the only thing holding her up. Opening the window he paused for a moment, failing to look back as he spoke.
"Don't contact me" They weren't lovers, I lover would kiss the other goodnight before they left, a lover would whisper sweet nothings to the other so softly, Vegeta did neither of these.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Disclaimer; I own nothing dbz related.