Disclaimer: I disclaim disclaiming anything that disclaims me disclaiming any such thing, and I disclaim your claim to disclaim this. Happy, report jerks?

Author's Note: I'm pretty pooped at the moment, here, so if my writing is somewhat cruddy, don't lose hope, readers. I'm just dying, because I can't catch my breath. I just ran all the way home from school!

Dedication: Still, for the lovely Kat; to teenager-hood!

Abduction

By Pikachu Hunter

Chapter Three: The Room's Parameters

After what seemed to be hours of huddling in the freezing corner, and whimpering to herself about innocence, and flaws, Bulma looked up, and pushed the tear-soaked bangs from her face. They'd left little red lines across her cheeks, because they were soaked to them. The weight coming off her face, Bulma began to feel the imprints the strands of blue had left behind.

She felt the sound of steps coming down the hall, towards the room. She figured it was Vegeta, unless he had a partner in this kidnapping. She doubted it. Wouldn't she have met him, in the past hours? Of Vegeta would have mentioned a partner...but there was never any hints leaning towards a partnered kidnapping.

The old door creaked open with the speed of a snail. It was as if a small child had pushed on it, and was watching it swing at a painfully slow pace open. Then, a heavy, ebony boot was set in the doorway. The body attached to it followed, the suspense of whether or not it were Vegeta nearly killing her.

"Are you hungry, girl?" Vegeta questioned, giving her a blank stare. Well, Bulma told herself. At least he didn't have someone helping him in this. It'd be harder to get away, then. But how will I get away with him here, anyway?

Bulma never replied, busy thinking about how she could leave without getting killed, or worse. Vegeta stamped on the floor, his body language showing impatience, and his need for attention. "Answer me!" He growled, furrowing his dark brows. "If you don't say anything, you'll get nothing!" Was that a threat?

The rich girl looked away, half afraid of what he might do to her, and half angry with him for what he had done to her. She crossed her arms, and inched more towards the wall, as though she assumed getting close enough would allow her to dematerialize, and end up on the other side, away from the horrible captor.

"Fine!" Vegeta snapped, crossing his own arms as well. He turned on his heel, and left the room, slamming the door behind him in a rush of frustration. If that damned girl doesn't eat, she'll get sick, especially in a dirty old shack like this. She'd better take what I give her, if she goes back to Capsule Corp in bad condition, I doubt I'll be let off much easier than if she came back alright.

Bulma sighed, glad to be rid of the man once more. Though he was only a year older, she knew, she seemed to be much older...and much more experienced in the world. He seemed to know the way people worked, and that gave him power. Bulma suddenly wished she had some of that power of her own; it would have assisted her in an escape.

Vegeta, storming down the hall, still in a rage, stomped all the way down the corridor, and stopped in the main room, consisting of a beat up, old, crimson couch, with springs jutting out at all angles; a crate, which was encrusted with dried mud, and had an old sticker that read CAUTION peeling off the sides; as well as a rickety table made of cheap wood, and chairs of about the same quality. Vegeta figured he would get many slivers, if he were to sit on one of the chairs for any longer than a minute or two.

Letting his anger seep out slowly in large exhales, Vegeta ventured to the front door. He hesitating locking it, and abandoned the thought as he walked out, and halted, at the sight of his old clunker of a Ford. Earlier in its life, it had been a beautiful candy blue, were there ever such a color, and it had belonged to Vegeta's uncle, who had raised the boy who stood before it now. As of only two years ago, the vehicle had come to Vegeta's possession, after someone had murdered his uncle.

The boy leaned carelessly against the hood of the Ford, now, and reached to the back pocket of his tight-fitting Calvin Kleins, retrieving a small package. He withdrew a thin, pale cigarette from inside the bundle, and replaced it in his back pocket after carefully putting the stick of poison between his lips, as though it were an art.

Bulma, inside the darken room, dared to stretch her legs out. The dirty floor gave a low moan, creaking under the change in weight distribution, and Bulma shrank back to her first position for a moment. Then, working up a small amount of courage, Bulma carefully got to her feet. This time, the floor was silent, and rang no alarm to alert Vegeta.

Vegeta pulled a lighter from inside his shoe. He always kept a light on him. The flame gave a low flicker, and Vegeta pulled it slowly to the cigarette between his thin, frowning lips. "Running out of fluid," he grunted, commenting on the quality of the lighter's performance.

He put the lighter back in his shoe, nestling it against the soft of his foot, and stood to his full height again to take a long inward draw from the smoldering tobacco rolled in filtered papers. "Ah..." an outward breath of satisfaction was Vegeta's take on the cigarette. They seemed to calm his nerves...nerves which the puny rich girl was beginning to step on.

The girl, standing up for what seemed to be at least half a day, slapped at her half-sleeping legs, then found the wall with her fingers in the dark. I have to know what this room is like, before I can think of getting out of it, Bulma told herself. She scaled the wall, finding nothing but a large hole, and beyond the hole, cracked and crumbling cement. She proceeded along the walls, and found the door in a corner opposite where she'd been crouching for most of that morning. Her fingers doing all the seeing in the dark room was no easy task, and Bulma was relieved when she found a light-switch, though her hope quickly diminished when she found that the bulb was nearly burned out, and shed only a dim yellow of light on the room.

Bulma's eyes were slow to adjust, but when they'd focused, she could clearly see the hole in the wall she'd earlier discovered, along with the door. Also, there was something she had not come to, yet. It was a reasonably-sized fragment of cloth, colored to match the night. The girl slowly lifted it, curious about what could be beyond. She expected another hole, but found something much more pleasing to her needs.

A window.


I hope this chapter was enjoyable! I liked writing it—I thought there was good description in it. What do you guys think? Is the fiction making itself worth while?

Kai