Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

The Perfect Flaw

Chapter IX

Bulma awoke that morning feeling alive and anew. Refusing to leave her heavenly pillows she elongated herself in a monstrous, cat like stretch, squinting slightly from the sunlight that cascaded into her room. Sunlight. It felt wonderful to awaken for once to the sun instead of being jerked awake by a wake up call.

The mattress she'd slept on last night had been inexplicable comfortable, seemingly matching every position of her body as if it had been made to fit her and only her.

Reluctantly she pulled herself upright and rubbed the drowsiness from her weary eyes. She then swung her feet over the bedside and climbed to her feet in disarray, stopping to give another yawn. What time was it anyway? Who cares?

Bulma lazily treaded down the carpeted stairs. The calm sizzling sound of breakfast greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen, and her stomach gave a vicious growl. She leaned over with mild embarrassment. Even though she had eaten just last night, she found herself yearning for the exotic taste of her home planet's cooking; the aroma wasn't helping either. It was wafted toward Bulma by an invisible breeze, beckoning her to forget about manners and gorge until her heart's content.

Though Bunny didn't turn to acknowledge her, Bulma could still feel her lopsided smile. "Good morning, dear," she said sweetly, raising her voice slightly over the sizzling. "I can hear someone's worked up an appetite over the night!" She giggled.

Bulma blushed as another grumble rose in her stomach. It was almost as if it were making a comeback to Mrs. Brief's remark. "What're you making, Mom?"

"Bacon 'n eggs."

Without even realizing it, Bulma had glided up to stand behind her mom, taking in the sweetly-nauseating scent. The second thing she'd mentioned, eggs, she recognized, but not the first. But no matter; it smelled like meat, and for the first time, Bulma felt as though she were a Saiyan pushing down the malicious carnivore that was bubbling inside her.

"It'll be done soon," Bunny stated after a short silence. "Why don't you watch some t.v. while you wait?"

Bulma reluctantly complied, leaving the kitchen to sink into the sofa's soft cushions. She reached for the remote and in a flash, numerous images flashed across the screen, leaving Bulma in mild confusion as she struggled to figure out what was going on. She guessed it was what Mark had called a commercial, when random advertisements and situations would occur to give the main show a short break. Bulma frowned. She wasn't sure she liked commercials; they were confusing.

She hit mute, sighing when the distracting noise subsided into a sweet, utter silence. Now she could think. Leisurely she allowed herself to sink further into the couch as her thoughts began to wander, thinking about the rest of the sunny day that lay ahead. She could do anything! They really weren't coming after her, were they, the Saiyans? They'd decided to leave her in peace; she guessed it was because it was just one slave that had escaped, nothing to big to worry about.

Maybe she'd call Chichi and they could hang out again. Maybe Goku could teach her how to fish, or maybe she could work on a fun invention or something. I don't know, there's so much I can do!

"Breakfast is served!" Bunny sang brightly as she pranced into the living room, a plate of steaming bacon and eggs in her hands. "I sure hope my little girl's as hungry as I think she is!" She placed the hot plate on to Bulma lap with a simper.

Bulma gawked at the plethora of eggs and bacon, and she could have sworn for a brief moment that she was drooling. Just in case, she wiped her sleeve across her chin and mouth. "Oh look!" she heard her mother's small gasp. "They're talking about your space-pod again."

On pure instinct Bulma looked up from her meal, watching as the camera zoomed in and focused on the white, spherical ship. A wave of inevitable guilt crashed over her then. Guilt blanketed her conscience for making everyone worry for no reason; now the whole world probably thought the Saiyans were on Earth again, and were probably going to end up breaking The Vow of Silence which they had worked so hard to preserve for all these years. Bulma wished she could do something, but what?

Bulma stilled suddenly, squinting her eyes to focus on the bottom left corner of the screen.

What the hell?

There, in the bottom right corner, the time read in bold digits . . . 10:45 p.m (A/N: remember the time zones.).

And it was live.

Something beyond fear or dread clutched in Bulma's stomach, unreachable no matter how much pressure she applied or how many pain killers she took. No. She then clumsily fumbled for the remote and hit the mute button, instantly met with the abrupt voice of a worried reporter. She could tell the reporter was doing his best to conceal his concern, but he was failing miserably. "Live from Long Island, Mike reports." Long Island, New York. America. That's where Mark was from.

The camera switched back to the pod, where a skinny, trembling man stood beside it. Bulma couldn't tell whether he was shivering because of the temperature, or because of fright. "Thanks Jim," he commented, almost automatically, "I'm here in the out skirts of the city, where we've just stumbled upon two unidentified aircrafts." He then turned to point it out, as if the viewers couldn't already see it. The small pod laid at the bottom of an immense landing crater. "It's believed that they landed sometime earlier in the evening, around the time when many witnesses claim they saw two comets in the sky." He cleared his throat suddenly. "What could this mean, Ladies and Gentleman? For many of you, you may recognize this ship as being eerily similar to the one from years ago . . . back to you, Jim."

Bulma heard the distant sound as the plate fell from her lap to plummet and splatter on to the floor. But she wasn't there to feel guilty from the mess it made. Already she was in the bathroom with her head leaned over the toilet seat, heaving what little dinner she had from last night into the bowl.

When finished, she gave a meek moan as she stepped out from the bathroom, only to fall to her knees in disbelief.

Live . . . from Long Island. . . Space-pod . . . Not mine.

She couldn't believe it. That meant . . . they had come after her, and they were already here, most likely searching for her at that very moment. This isn't happening— this can't be happening.

But who? Already two of the Saiyans' ships had been found, presently, but that didn't mean a Goddamn thing. There could be others out there in various areas. Was it Commander Semuld? Was he so determined on capturing her and pleasing the King? Her damp eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as a heart-stopping realization hit her mercilessly. What if— what if they were there to do something worse? To catch her--- and purge Earth as a punishment for her selfishness? She couldn't imagine it, she refused to!

Somewhere above her she heard a gentle voice. Her head felt like lead as she lifted it, meeting her mother's worried stare. Seeing her there, with that look of concern— she couldn't hold it anymore. She could feel the tears hot against her cheeks, and Bunny knelt down in front of her, gathering her daughter into her arms with a gentle "hush". It was from far from helpful; in fact it only caused her to her to burst into more overwhelming tears, the cries now wrenching from her throat in nothing more than raw emotion.

An abrupt image flashed across her brain, allowing her to momentarily witness the scene from a third person point of view: Bulma Briefs, huddled impotently in her parent's arms, selfishly sobbing into the warm, comforting shoulder, absently wishing that those arms would never let go. Somewhere inside, she truly felt that if she were to retreat from this rare embrace, she would never again find safety; she felt safe in these arms. She'd waited her entire life for this feeling of security, and was determined to never let go of it.

"I'm sorry!" Bulma blurted suddenly, burying her head in shame. "I-I'll clean up the mess in the living room."

"Oh, no you won't," came the stern response. "Don't you worry about that. I'll get it right away." Bunny tightened her grip as she could feel the tears soaking through her dress.

"It's a-all my fault," Bulma cried, timidly pushing away from the embrace to stare into her mother's eyes. "If I had never come, they w-wouldn't be here right now." She swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. "N-now they're here! A-and—,"

"Shhh."

"No! You don't understand!" Bulma paused, taking in Bunny's form and expression. She recalled her father lying sick in bed; Goku and Chichi; she recalled Chichi's unborn child, Gohan. They'd all be gone soon; even the lecher she'd met in the street. Everyone on the planet would be gone; all because of her. When they took her back to Vegeta, what would she say to Mark? How would she ever be able to talk to him again? How could she live every day with the guilt of knowing that she had been the cause of her planet's destruction? "T-there's no stopping them, Mom! They have no compassion! They're nothing but a bunch of sociopaths!"

She struggles ceased and she didn't have the mental strength to fight as her mother took her into another sympathetic embrace.

What am I going to do?

Subliminal, horrid images of the Harem— of the dream she'd had in the space podraced through her mind. Visions of wastelands that had once been teeming with commotion and life played behind her eyelids— haunting her— taunting her.

What can I do?

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

"Hurry up!" the Prince hissed, stopping momentarily from his training to shoot the toad an intimidating glare. "I want to find the girl, this century."

Kitser gave an emphatic nod, and a smile that was eager to please. "Oh yes! Yes! Of course, M'Lord!" Carefully he held the invention in front of him, waddling rapidly to where Vegeta stood, practicing target shooting. "Just had to get rid of a few kinks. Now, it should be able to track down the fugitive based on the information we provide it. It really is a smart little bugger!"

He cackled as he placed the small contraption in Vegeta's hands, backing away expectantly, as if waiting for the Saiyan to begin. After a moment of silence, Vegeta's scowl only deepened. "Well, what do I do, you idiot?"

"Just describe the slave, and it will do the rest."

Vegeta turned back to the contraption, faltering. "Er— s-she's a female with— uh— blue hair and blue eyes, and she's fairly short in height." His body tingled with the feeling of absolute stupidity.

The thing complied with a sudden beep, levitating out of the Saiyan's hands. It hovered before Vegeta's face for another second before short circuiting, spitting an abundance of black smoke and aluminum into the Prince's face. Vegeta stumbled backward, waving the thick cloud of smoke away as he caught the tiny machine with his free hand. When it cleared, he stared down at Kitser, allowing his servant to lay eyes upon the fresh cut on his Lord's cheek. The toad smiled sheepishly. "Oops. Guess I forgot about one more kink."

That was the last straw. Out of all the idiotic things the servant had ever done, this was the most intolerable. The Saiyan's temper had now surpassed its peak as he shoved the device into the creature's arms, pointing an imperative finger up the hill. "Go over there."

Kitser blinked in bemusement while following his liege's line of sight, turning back to study the Prince. His face was simply unreadable. "W-why—,"

"Just do it." Vegeta's order was cold and sharp, causing Kitser to flinch slightly. "That thing you call an invention is a piece of crap. I'm going to destroy it."

Kitser was still bewildered. Why does he want me to go up on the hill though? "But I worked so hard on it, M'Lord," he whined pathetically, treading his way through the brush and up the hill where he stopped once more in an attempt to decipher his Lord's intentions which lay beyond the impassive mask.. "What do you want me to do with it?"

Vegeta's nose crinkled in contempt. "Oh, just stay where you are." Like a gun he then extended two fingers, noting with cruel amusement the single bead of sweat that formed on Kitser's forehead. "Father always told me," he began in a mentor's tone, shutting one eye to focus on the device, "to make an opportunity out of any deed you do. And what better way to destroy that thing" — a malicious smirk broke out on his lips— "than making it part of my target practice?"

The toad was trembling violently now. He licked his lips nervously. "W-well— uh— w-where do you want me to set it?"

"Oh no," Vegeta corrected, his sneer broadening. "I want you to stay right where you are— and just hold out your arm so I can get better aim at it."

Tentatively Kitser complied to his Lord's wishes, extending his invention out to the side of him, turning his head away in fear.

The Saiyan's eye narrowed. "Don't worry, this will be good practice." With great care he shifted his arm slightly, stopping when it was aligned with the machine which lay in Kitser's shivering hand. "Stop moving or I can't focus." The trembling stopped. Everything lay silent and still for a long moment as Vegeta continued to shift into better aim. Meanwhile Kitser was having a hard time following his Lord's command to stand still. His lips quivered in prayer, and over and over he assured himself that the Prince knew what he was doing. He had full confidence in him.

Everything happened so quickly once the silence was broken by the hiss of the blue beam. In the space of a heartbeat it shot through the air, colliding directly with its target.

Slowly Kitser opened his eyes, turning slowly to see his empty hand. He wheezed when realizing it wasn't there . . . and nor was his arm. Instead a fountain of blood spewed from his shoulder, showering the dead grass beside him. His mouth wrenched opened in a silent scream. "M-my arm! M'Lord, my arm . . . I-it's gone!"

Vegeta didn't care about what Frieza or his father would say anymore; he was going to find the Dragon Balls anyway. It just felt so good to finally do what he'd always wanted to ever since the first day Kitser had served under him. A victorious satisfaction spread warmly throughout his veins, and his smile faded in mocking disappointment. "Oops . . . I missed."

He then sauntered his way up the hill, ignoring the nuisance that was now on his knees in agony, a pool of blood beneath him. Vegeta continued to the top, where he stood triumphantly, his keen eyes feeding off the immense human city that lay out in the distance.

He'd find the girl on his own. He'd think of a way without an insolent servant at his side . . .

Even if he had to destroy every city on the planet to find her.

A/N: I was a little discouraged; I only got like 2 reviews on my last chapter. But hey! Can't let that stop me, right? PLEASE REVIEW!