Author's note: Hey, guys, thanks for the reads, & the reviews. I love getting those alerts. Please feel free to keep them coming, & let me know your thoughts as the story progresses.
Written by: SparkerLightning
Edited by: StevenBodner
Chapter 46
In space
Aboard the Night Blizzard
"Meet up, Cold. Five warriors and one scientist, against the ruler of the Cold Empire. We agree to your terms. We await your reply. Goodbye." The screen went black, and while it pulled away, it started over from the beginning.
Cold took a deep breath, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. He slowly blew the air through his pursed lips. He had been getting madder and madder as the message played. He was angry when he saw their smug faces. He was livid when they accused him of being responsible for his sons' deaths. He was furious when they threatened him with his own subjects.
Now? Now he was calm. He had gone full circle, and was solely focused on destroying these devils. But, he did admit, they were right. If he hadn't sent Cooler to Earth, he would still be alive. If they didn't keep that woman, Frieza would still be alive. They did revive Frieza, and if he had known that, Cooler wouldn't have been dispatched to Earth.
It was his fault his children were dead. Now, he had to own up to that. He had to take responsibility. He would start by executing the attempted usurpers. Then, he would destroy the Earth. After that? He didn't know for certain, but a temporary retirement sounded good. The empire wasn't ready for independence, but perhaps it could be converted into a nondictatorial government.
If he could establish something else, he could retire. If he could retire, he could focus on himself. Only a great man could rule a great empire, and now, with his sons' blood on his hands, he was not great. That's it, he'd take a sabbatical, maybe a year, maybe a century. Maybe he'd fly from one side of the universe to the other under his own power, or maybe he'd raise a new family. But those details weren't important, not now. For now, all he had to do was arrange the place of his revenge.
"How long will it take to reach the usurpers?" He kept his eyes down, not bothering to address a particular individual. Someone who knew would respond. If no one knew, someone would find out. That's how it worked. Competence was key.
"At our current speed, just under a year, sir." A somewhat familiar voice responded. "If they move towards us though, we can cut that time by roughly half. We're still estimating their rate and direction of travel, and will have a more accurate answer for you as soon as that is determined."
Cold gave a stiff nod of understanding. "And, what defense, if any, do we have against their weaponry?"
Another underling responded. "Unfortunately, sir, we have no defenses. Shielding has not been standard for decades."
He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the old times. Ship-to-ship combat had never been common, but it had been a reality at one point. Some planets had large fleets of assault craft, so a small minority of the empire's fleet had been equipped with shields. Now though, ever since they went to the extermination doctrine, it was just easier to blast through any blockade, and destroy the fleets of defending ships when they came in for resupply. Cold did not envy those pilots, safe above their planets, but knowing they had to land, knowing their planet was dead, and counting down the minutes until they met their death.
Then again, that's where the Saiyans were now. They would die, it was inevitable.
"Realistically, what are the odds that they have the kind of weaponry the woman described?" He asked the room around him.
"Possible, but unlikely, sir." The soldier that answered about the shields, or lack thereof, answered again. "While we can speak with no certainty, the odds of equipping their ship with that kind of fire power in this short amount of time is, it doesn't seem feasible."
"Understood." Cold lifted his head and leaned back into his throne. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as it used to be, but that was to be expected, since it was designed for his second form. "Is it possible to reply directly to them? On a closed broadcast, that others will NOT be able to listen in on?"
"Yes, sir." The man responded. "We can beam any messages directly to their coordinates."
"If anyone is found to have listened to my reply, they are to be executed immediately." He stood, lording over his men. "If word of this reply leaves this room, all present will be executed, immediately."
He made eye contact with anyone who stopped to look up at him. "Prepare to broadcast. I am going to reply now."
Cold expected to wait, at least for a minute, while his men gathered the camera and microphone, but even he was surprised by how quickly his men were in front of him. Two helmeted guards stepped into place beside his seat, looking comically pathetic, despite their overwhelming power, next to his mightiest form.
"Count me down." He summoned the smallest amount of aura he could. Enough to be visibly glowing, but not quite enough to blow his men away.
"Yes, sir." The man holding the camera held up a hand. "Five, four, three, two..." He nodded and Cold glared into the reflective lens.
"Greetings, Turles." He spoke smoothly. "I have quite a few confessions to make to you, as the dominant Saiyan. The first of which is that I was unaware of your existence. I thank you for introducing yourself, and the others."
"Next, I confess that I did not know you were the ones responsible for my son's revival. He informed me it was almost certainly due to the Dragon Balls. We were under the impression the only Dragon Balls left were on Namek, which Frieza destroyed upon his revival. I had assumed that whoever was responsible for his revival was killed in Namek's destruction.
"Thirdly, and lastly, I admit that you are correct." He closed his eyes, replaying Turles' words in his mind, before continuing. "My sons' death, the death of my linage, was my fault. I made mistakes, which directly led to the death of Cooler and Frieza. I thank you for shining more light on the situation."
"With this new information, now that I am enlightened, I would like to offer an alternative to you. This is a standing offer that only expires upon your death." He took hold of his aura, crushing it back into his body, shrouding himself in energy. When the glow faded, he had reverted to his second form. His throne was again perfectly fitted to him, and despite the unease of being ten pounds of might in a five-pound sack, enjoyed the moment. "I don't believe you truly want my throne, control of the empire. No. However, if that is what you are after, I will offer it to you, along with anything else you request."
"The condition, bring me my sons. Bring me Cooler and Frieza. If you do this for me, I assure you that we will not oppose you, nor will we serve you." He smiled. "For eons, our family has had just one purpose, and I will surrender that, immediately, upon the return of my sons." He looked up, over the camera, through the ship, beyond reality. "We will leave this universe. We will start over, somewhere else. We will never meet again."
"If you do not accept my offer, then we continue on our current path. You will die, we will rule. I have already retired once, I do not want to rule, but if I am given no other choice, I will. Turles, give me the choice, give me the opportunity, and we can both win."
He gave a sharp nod and the camera was lowered. No one spoke, no one moved. Cold then snapped his fingers.
"Back to work." He barked as he waved his flanking guards forward. The pair took eight steps forward, turned to face each other, took another three steps, turned to face Cold, and knelt. "Go to my quarters. Under my desk is a removable panel. Remove it, and bring me the mirror within. I need to make a call."
Aboard Capsule Cosmos
Krillin and Chiaotzu sat side by side in the cockpit of the ship. They weren't flying, but they were also responsible for the ship. Both sat with their eyes shut, legs tucked under them, on their chairs. Spiritual threads entangled their minds, connected them, and allowed them to battle each other, and others, in an imaginary world of their own creation.
While they wore out their minds, the Saiyans were wearing out their bodies. Within the gravity chamber, they had burnt a tight circle on the floor. Goku would stand within it, transformed, and both Nappa and Turles would use any tactics they could to move him from within it, only to little success. When it was Turles' turn, he would maximize his Kaio-Ken, and neither other Saiyan would transform. With the power boost he provided himself, and the limitations placed on his teammates, he was able to hold his ground. When Nappa's turn came, he transformed to super Saiyan while the uncle and nephew were limited to Kaio-Ken.
In this manner, both groups had been training for hours. Everyone getting their turn to attack, their turn to defend, and little time was spent on resting.
Immediately upon being impaled by Frieza's robotic tail, Krillin opened his eyes. Moments later, when Chiaotzu was ripped apart at the atomic level by a Death Ball that was summoned within his mouth, the psychic warrior opened his eyes as well. Cooler's men were easy enough. Powerful, skilled, and lethal warriors, but manageable by the pair. Cooler himself, before he powered up, was also obtainable. His power was vastly superior to their own, despite his holding back, but with teamwork and ruthless tactics, they were able to defeat him multiple times.
Frieza though, Frieza was a beast of his own. Not even in their wildest dreams. Not even with a thousand years of training, could the pair visualize a way to defeat the tyrant without the Saiyans. Now that they had been defeated in seconds, again, they took a break.
Krillin sipped a cup of tea. Chiaotzu cleared his mind. They both peaked at the display showing the gravity chamber, the two blurs circling Goku, and they both were glad they chose a less intensive way to start their preparation for Cold.
As they took their break, something unexpected happened. The door to the cockpit closed. In addition, the massive pistons that were used to reinforce the interior doors activated both in the cockpit and in the gravity chamber, as well as on all other interior doors. Once they were securely locked against intruders, the rubber seals that surrounded each door inflated, creating a positive pressure environment. Lastly, all unoccupied rooms lost power, which was rerouted directly towards the closed systems of the cockpit and gravity chamber. While the interior doors sealed, the exterior doors slowly opened.
Krillin and Chiaotzu were alerted to the change by the quiet hiss of air inflating their seals. Krillin immediately started reading over the displays, looking for any possible explanation. Goku, Turles, and Nappa, only became aware of the situation when the gravity chamber started powering down, 500, 495, 490…
Goku tried to open the chamber door, but the handle just spun freely in his hands. The mechanism it interacted with inside the door had retracted, and the knob wouldn't work.
Turles went to the console and opened communication to the cockpit. "Krillin, Chiaotzu, what's going on? We're stuck in the gravity chamber."
"I don't know." Krillin called back, not taking his eyes off the screen.
Chiaotzu hit a button and the monitor went from displaying generic diagnostic information, to a list of flashing red error codes.
45 seconds ago. "Unexpected contaminant detected."
40 seconds ago. "Contaminant assessed as lethal."
39 seconds ago. "Isolating all environments."
35 seconds ago. "Isolation complete."
30 seconds ago. "Contaminant isolated in central corridor."
25 seconds ago. "Venting central corridor."
20 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in living quarters 1."
18 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in galley."
16 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in living quarters 2."
14 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in cockpit."
12 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in gravity chamber."
10 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in water cycling systems."
8 seconds ago. "Contaminant detected in air cycling system."
6 seconds ago. "Survival estimated at 0% with current status."
4 seconds ago. "Autopilot engaging. Seeking safe harbor."
2 seconds ago. "Long term stasis activating."
"Alert." A robotic voice called through the speakers as Krillin and Chiaotzu were still reading the display. "Auto pilot engaged. Stasis engaged. You will be re-awoken when environment is conducive to survival."
As the air bladders finished inflating, a new hissing began. Small vents opened in both the cockpit and the gravity chamber. A faint mist began falling through them, filling the rooms from the ground up in a white haze.
"Alert." The robotic voice called through the speakers again. "Autopilot engaged. Stasis engaged. You will be re-awoken when environment is conducive to survival."
"Goku, get us to the cockpit, now." Turles grabbed Goku's arm, and Nappa barely grabbed his other before he touched his forehead and the trio appeared in the cramped cockpit.
Turles grabbed Krillin's shoulder, and with a quick heft, removed him from the pilots seat. He took his place and began reading the alerts.
"Alert." The robotic voice called through the speakers again. "Do not leave your current location. Stasis gas potency is established every 60 seconds. Do not leave your current location. Too much stasis gas is lethal. Do not leave your current location. Too little stasis gas will result in partial stasis, a feeling of suffocation, and extreme panic. Do not leave your current location. Do not panic. Do not leave your current location. Do not open sealed doors."
"What contaminant?" Turles clicked the alert assessing it as lethal and began reading the message. His eye twitched as he continued reading. "What the hell?"
"What is it?" Goku placed a hand behind Turles and another behind Chiaotzu, leaning towards the screen.
"It's recognizing H2O as a contaminant. That's water." He scoffed as he glanced at Goku. "Water isn't lethal."
"If you inhale it..." Krillin spoke up.
"WE'RE NOT BREATHING IT IN!" Turles barked over his shoulder. "We need to disable… the… analytical… system." He took deep breaths as the vapor rose over the console.
"Chiaotzu, give me a… bubble." Turles flopped his head to the side, ready to yank the psychic to him. Chiaotzu's eyes were closed, his head was limply hanging to his side. He was too low, too short, he had been breathing in the gas. Why didn't he fly up?
Turles looked back to the computer.
5 seconds ago - "Incoming message. View? YES / NO."
Who was calling? The message was slowly scrolling up the screen, as new alerts popped in under it. Stasis gas, contaminants, danger. Green button, yes.
"Greetings, Turles." A familiar voice spoke. "I have quite a few confessions to make to you..." Cold appeared on the display, notifications popping up beside his face. "...The first of which is that I was unaware..."
Turles' eyes shut, and he fell backwards into his seat. Shortly after, three warm bodies hit the ground behind him.
Aboard the Night Blizzard
Sitting upon his throne Cold ran his thumbs around the rim of the golden mirror. His guards had ushered the other workers out, before taking up position outside his door. The item was a gift to him, given by an Angel.
He cupped the mirror in both hands, holding it low in front of him. He gazed into it, focusing not on what he saw, but who he desired to see.
"Greetings." He spoke. "Can you hear me?"
A point of distortion formed in the center of the mirror, slowly rippling out to the carved edge. As the waves of nonsense filled the entire mirror, a point of clarity appeared in the middle, rippling out to show a pale blue face topped with a large vertical white hairstyle.
"Oh, hello, Cold." The Angel warmly smiled. His voice was passive, indifferent, showing no reverence when speaking to King Cold. Cold's stomach twisted, he knew he was owed nothing by this being, but instead, it was his turn to respect his superior. The Angel would never declare himself as such, a being like him simply did not need to. "It's been decades. How have you been?"
Cold bowed his head, not daring to look an Angel in the eye.
"Not well, sir." He tried to keep his voice even. "My sons, both Cooler and Frieza, have been killed over the last year."
"Oh." The Angel backed away from the view slightly, revealing his maroon robe and a blue ring floating around his neck and over his shoulders. "I am sorry to hear that. The younger one, Frieza I believe, had quite a lot of potential. My father had plans for him, but I will inform him that they will not be fulfilled."
Cold's eyes bulged, as if he had received a punch in the stomach from the deity himself.
"The divine had plans for my child?" His mouth dried. "Thank you, I am honored to know we were looked upon so favorably."
The Angel nodded before looking past the mirror, at something unseen.
"Not to be rude." He said. "But now is not a good time for me to talk. Why are you reaching out to me now?"
Another punch to Cold's stomach. He was intruding upon the gods, and it was too late to dismiss himself. He had been asked a question, and he had to answer. "I would like to request a favor from you, if you would be so generous to grant me a request."
"A favor?" The angel asked, his smile reached his eyes. "What kind of favor would that be?"
"Who are you talking to?" A courser, deeper, voice called from somewhere beyond the mirrors view.
"Cold, the Arcosian currently in charge of the empire." The angel did not give Cold a chance to answer the question he had been asked.
"What does the weakling want?" The other voice asked. He did not sound amused.
"He says he would like to ask us for a favor." He spun around so that both himself and a purple cat like creature were in the view. The cat wore a light weight sleeping cap and gown, and sat upon a large bed.
"I don't care what the favor is. I'm napping. Hang up the call, and don't call him back until he's worth talking to." The cat assessed Cold through the mirror before turning away and pulling a thick blanket over himself.
"You heard the boss, Cold." The Angel floated away from the bed, quickly hiding it below the view of the mirror. "I'll contact you when, if, you are worth noting. You may ask your favor then. This is not a guarantee that your favor will be granted. I'm sorry to hear about your sons. Goodbye."
The mirror distorted from the outside in, before returning to a typical glassy finish. Cold looked himself over. He's a weakling? He had been gifted this mirror by the Angel initially. He did not ask for the means of communication. He knew why he was granted it, but he had secretly hoped it was due to his strength, due to his power in the universe, but, if he was considered a weakling, then, perhaps there was more to strength than just mortal ki. He was told he'd be contacted when, if, he was worth noting, that told him that the potential was there. His son had potential, he must have gotten it from someone, and, while he loved his queen, he knew it was NOT from her.
That decided it, Cold's priorities shifted slightly. Step one, revive his sons. Step two, become strong enough to be noticed by the divine. Step three, hold up his side of the bargain and never being seen again in this realm.
If Frieza had potential, he knew he did as well. What was the potential the Angel mentioned? Frieza was already one of the most powerful beings in the universe, he already was ruling a massive portion of it, aside from his battle power, his potential had been reached. Unless, unless Frieza was destined for more than this universe. Cold didn't know for a fact the structure of the heavens, but perhaps Frieza was intended to walk among the divine? If Frieza and Cooler couldn't be revived, perhaps Cold could reach that potential instead, become divine, and revive his sons himself.
He didn't know what the Angel was talking about, not for certain, but that answer seemed as reasonable as any other. Cold would talk to the Earthlings, if they revived his sons, they could train together, ascend to the Angel's master's threshold, and leave the universe. If the Earthlings refused to revive Cooler and Frieza, then he would destroy them. He would train by himself, and the favor would change from transportation to the revival of his sons. If the Angel, or the Angel's master refused either favor, whichever may be requested, well, they implied Frieza was planned to be part of a higher order, so he would reach that potential himself, he would overthrow the Angel, overthrow the divine, and revive his sons himself. He would reform the universe to fit his family's purpose. At that point, a deal with mortals wouldn't matter.
The path forward was clear, whether he asked for his sons to be revived, or for his family to be brought to a new universe, he would need to grow strong to request a favor. He had planned to train, to unlock his fifth form, but he doubted that would be enough, not anymore. The form was powerful, but the multiplier was low. No, he'd have to go beyond. If Saiyans can train to become hundreds, thousands, possibly millions of times stronger than their peers, then he could do the same.
For a moment he pictured himself, where he was, sitting on his throne. Night Blizzard was gone, somewhere unknown. He sat on his throne, in the void of space, lit only by the light of distant stars. With a surge of energy he would transform himself, become divine, match the luminosity of the distant nuclear fusion generators with his own golden presence. After all, piss-headed Saiyans didn't have a monopoly on the color, did they?
11 months later
Above Earth
In the over occupied Attack Ball, lights slowly lit, and stasis gas was slowly replaced by normal air. Bulma doubted she was the first to awaken, not with Jeice's experience in pods, but she appreciated him letting her believe that. She slipped her gloves back on, adjusted the rest of her clothing, and as she kissed him to wake him up, his eyes popped open, shining in the now well-lit pod.
"Good morning." He greeted her with a smile and a returned kiss.
"Good morning to you." She smiled and touched her nose to his.
He leaned forward, pressing his cheek to hers, and breathed in the distinct scent of her hair as he checked the displays. They were near Earth, and more importantly they were not alone. On the navigation screen a flood of beacons, identification tags, came into view, completely covering the Earth on their display. Jeice stiffened under Bulma, and she looked to see what he had noticed.
Immediately she knew what she was looking at. Earth was clearly visible through the window of the ship, but unseen to her naked eye were hundreds, if not thousands, of alien ships, surrounding the planet. These weren't Attack Balls, pods didn't have this kind of tag. No, these were war ships, entire invasion forces, hanging over Earth.
"What's going on?" She looked back at Jeice, before moving around to sit on his lap, looking out the window. "Why are so many ships here?"
"I'll assume, to keep anyone on Earth from fleeing?" Jeice theorized. "If this was an attack, they'd have landed by now."
He shook his head. "No, this is wrong. I don't know." He adjusted several dials on the control panel, and the view zoomed in, showing small gaps between the blockading ships.
"Can we land?" Bulma asked, voice shaking.
"I think so." Jeice attempted to reassure her. "They look close together, but they're miles apart at the closest. We can make it past them. But, when we land, I don't know. They'll notice us passing, even if they can't stop us."
"I don't think we have any other choice. Do we?" She tried to dig her nails into her palm, but failed due to the stretchy gloves. "Assuming Capsule Cosmos is still in one piece, we wouldn't be any safer there."
"Agreed." Jeice nodded. "Move."
He effortlessly lifted Bulma off his lap, and slowly spun around her, sitting her on the seat. With a nod towards the rarely used belt, Bulma strapped herself in, and Jeice sat on her lap.
"I don't know if you've ever landed one of these before, but it's not comfortable, not for someone like you." He stuck his tongue out over his shoulder as he locked in his path and small propulsion modules nudged their path slightly to the side.
"Brace for impact, Bulma." Jeice said as he braced one hand over his head, and his feet on the floor. His second hand remained on the controls, ready to react with little notice.
Bulma disobeyed, choosing instead to wrap her arms around Jeice's back and hook her legs around his. If a massive shock hit the ship, he'd make a great buffer between her and the impact. He may be able to withstand the shock, but she knew she wouldn't stand a chance.
Minutes later, they had passed through the metaphorical line in the sand. Moments after that, the black of space was replaced by the blue of Earth's atmosphere. Bulma didn't specify a particular place to land, so Jeice didn't worry about that, choosing instead on being somewhere near some kind of civilization. Several cities were visible, and he decided to land near one at random. Quickly losing elevation they fell over the city, impacting the ground at a sharp angle just a few miles outside of the suburbs surrounding the town.
As soon as they impacted, the door opened. Immediately Jeice stood up, stretched his arms, cracked his back, and stepped onto the door. Breathing in the fresh air he beamed from ear to ear, before turning and helping Bulma out of the pod.
"We're here." She said, taking in her surroundings. She had no idea where here was, but the trees, the grass, the birds that flew away in panicked flocks, they all looked familiar. They were back on Earth.
"Yes, we are." Jeice took her under his arm, and she sank to the ground. Quickly he dropped to a knee beside her, ready to catch her if she continued falling.
"We're home. We're on Earth. I, I never thought I'd be here again." She opened her palms and sat them on the ground. It was moist, the morning dew slightly darkening her gloves. She closed her fists around the grass, lifting her hands it slid through her fingers, being combed into neat lines. "I hoped, I dreamed, but, but now it's reality." She stopped herself from removing her glove, choosing instead to pick a flower and touch it to her nose. It smelled fresh, lively. She killed it, but in its death she confirmed, comfortably confirmed, that this was real. It was worth it. A flower died, for her life to be easier. A fair sacrifice.
Jeice nodded and got back to his feet. "Welcome home." He held out a hand to her, and she took it. When she was back on her feet he spun around, allowing her to climb onto his back. "Now, let's find your family. There's a city this way." He swiped his foot near the pod, which closed, and flew into the air, low, but over the trees.
Slowly, not wanting to freeze Bulma, or blow her off his back, he flew back towards the city. Bulma kept her eyes peeled, taking in every detail of the suburbs as they flew over them, as well as the office buildings once they were in the city proper. The only thing she didn't note were the people, the cameras, all focused on her partner and herself. After all, flying was normal, and as one of Frieza's top men, of course Jeice would be noticed.
Jeice looked back at Bulma. Recognition was nowhere to be seen on her expression. "Which way?" He prompted.
"I have no idea." Bulma admitted. "I've got no idea where we are. None of these buildings are familiar, and why aren't there bigger signs with the city name?" She huffed out a breath. "Land, and we'll ask a local."
"Alrighty then." Jeice kept his forward momentum, but slowly lowered himself towards the ground. Touching down outside a large plaza, he lowered himself to a knee, allowing Bulma to effortlessly get her own feet under them.
All eyes were still on them, and Bulma shrank into Jeice's side. She was rich, she was famous, she was used to being recognized, but that wasn't respect, admiration, or jealousy in the pedestrian's eyes. No, that was anger, anger that Jeice didn't recognize.
Keeping Bulma pressed to his side, Jeice walked them to the nearest noteworthy individual. Everyone was wearing unique clothing, but this man was the most unique, by far. He had what appeared to be a blaster on his belt, as well as a shield symbol on his vest and cap. They stopped two paces away from the officer, but Jeice did not address him first. "Where are we looking for, Bulma?"
"West City." She squeaked. "Capsule Corp, to be exact."
"Excuse me." The white-haired, red-skinny, flying alien pointlessly said. He already had the officer's entire attention. "We are looking for West City, or Capsule Corp. Could you tell us where that is?"
The officer's hand fell to his belt, fingers resting on the handle of the metallic pseudo blaster. Jeice tensed, ready to blast him to dust if he made an offensive move.
"Bulma?" He studied the gaunt, heavily scarred woman. "Bulma Brief? Is that you?"
Bulma nodded and the man's free hand joined his other on his belt. With practiced ease he unhooked his handcuffs.
"Ma'am, you're going to need to come with me. You are under arrest." His eyes shot around at the gathered group of onlookers.
Bulma took a half diagonal step backwards to put Jeice further between herself and the officer. "No." She tried to say. The single word had no force, no authority, behind it, yet it had been more than enough.
Jeice stepped fully in front of her.
"That's not going to happen." He asserted. "Tell us where West City, or Capsule Corp, is, and we'll leave.
From multiple directions cameras began to flash.
The officer stepped away from the former soldier. He couldn't sense energy, but he knew authority when he saw it. Dropping his handcuffs he freed his radio from his vest, pressing the button he spoke into it.
"Officer Broadus, code purple, Bulma Brief. Corner of Turtle West and 12th South." He took another step back and pulled his gun, pointing it at Jeice's head.
"Put that away." Jeice stepped forward, Bulma staying glued to his back. The officer stepped back and released the safety.
"Don't move. Stay where you are." He tried to speak with authority, and failed.
The gathered crowd stepped off the sidewalk, out of the line of fire, and thickened both behind the officer and beside the confrontation.
"Lower the blaster or..." Jeice stepped forward, the officer stepped back.
"Do not threaten me!" The officer barked. "Do not move. One more step and I fire."
Jeice shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and turned his back on the officer. He evaluated the crowd, finally picking up on their animosity.
"Come on, Bulma, He's not going to help us. Let's find someone else, no one here will." He put his hands on Bulma's shoulders, turning her around, and walking her forward.
Five steps later a voice called out from the gathered group. "Don't let her get away!"
Bulma picked up the pace, and Jeice kept his hands on her shoulders. Looking back he saw the group surging after him, the officer at the front. As he watched a leather-wearing woman next to the officer snatched the blaster, pointed it at him, and fired.
He caught the bullet in midair, held it in front of his eye, and dropped it. That display wasn't enough to dissuade the crowd though. The woman fired again, and again, and again, each bullet being effortlessly plucked out of the air and deposited on the ground. Faintly, Jeice heard Bulma running behind him. Good, she'd get to safety.
"There's only one of him!" A man called from the middle of the crowd, provoking a stampede.
"Don't let her get away!" Another faceless voice called.
Jeice looked over his shoulder, Bulma was turning into an alley, a strongly defensible position. Turning his attention back to the mob, he ignited his aura, not preparing to strike, but ready to guard. He forced his energy out, the opposite of normal battle tactics. Fancy lights and strong winds never won a true fight, but now, against these humans, his mere presence was enough to stop them in their tracks.
He stepped backwards, trusting his memory to lead him towards the entrance of the alley, but he refused to turn his back again. The people at the rear of the crowd pushed forward. The people at the front physically couldn't approach closer. Every inch he gave, they took. Every inch he gave, they tried for a foot. He did not envy the faces in front of him, being crushed between a wall of flesh and a wall of force.
Bulma wasn't moving any further, she must have hunkered down. When Jeice saw the alley out of the corner of his eye, he turned and began walking backwards into it. The crowd kept coming, kept pushing forward, but with the towers funneling his ki, they couldn't even approach the opening to their escape route.
Mentally counting down from three, Jeice suppressed his aura back to near zero, turned, and came face to face with a very angry boy. Bulma was behind him, he saw her peeking out from a recessed doorway. If Jeice had been more perceptive, he would have realized that he wasn't the only one that dropped his power moments ago.
"Who are you?" The boy turned his side to Jeice. His muscles were wound tight, ready to jump into action. Jeice couldn't feel much energy from him, but that didn't mean much.
"Jeice." He answered, attempting to step past the boy, towards Bulma, but he was cut off.
"Well, Jeice." The boy crossed his arms. Power began radiating from him. The shouts from the mob were drowned out as completely non-important, not compared to this newcomer. "You can tell Cold that Earth is defended. You're the first to set foot on our planet, and you'll be the last. If anyone else sets foot on Earth, they will die."
At once, the boy's hair shot up and burst from black to gold. His eyes filled with raging green energy. He was a Super Saiyan.
"Woah woah woah." Jeice raised his hands. Now it was his turn to step back, and Gohan closed the distance. "I don't work for Cold. We're not with Cold."
He gestured towards Bulma. "We're here to help defend Earth." He wasn't sure if he was lying or not.
Gohan looked over his shoulder, finally noticing the other intruder. "Who sent you here." He stepped forward, pushing Jeice further towards the now silent mob.
"Turles." Jeice spat the name out as quickly as he could. He racked his brain, who else did he know from Earth? "Goku, Nappa, Krillin, Chiaotzu."
Gohan stopped pushing Jeice back, stopped stoking his aura, letting it resolve to a golden glow around him.
"Goku? My dad sent you? Prove it." He took another step.
"Bulma, I came with Bulma." Jeice both answered the boy's request, and asked for assistance and pointed over Gohan's shoulder. "That's her, right, Bulma?"
Bulma stepped out from the doorway, a paper clutched in her left hand. She looked at the kid, the Super Saiyan, the son of Goku.
"Gohan?" She asked. "It's me, Bulma."
His eyes studied her. His vision was back. Why hadn't Goku mentioned that?
Gohan studied her. He had seen Bulma before, once. On Roshi's Island, years ago, when Raditz came to Earth. He spent time with her, he knew her, but, but looking at her, he didn't recognize her. Her energy though, it was familiar, off, tainted, but familiar. It was her.
"Bulma!" He called out, letting his aura drop. "You're safe!" You're home!"
He ran to her side, unintentionally startling the woman. Jeice came up behind him.
"Yes, she is." Jeice reached over Gohan's head, placing a hand on Bulma's shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're trying to get her home. I don't suppose you could point us towards West City, or Capsule Corp?"
"Absolutely." Gohan beamed, reaching up and placing his hand next to Jeice's, brushing it's side. Tapping his fingers to his forehead they were immediately transported halfway across the world.
Tower walls gave way to open skies and dumpsters gave way to tall, narrow, trees. Where the alley ended, a palace was situated, and where the mob had been, a small group of people were gathered. Gohan stepped away from the pair and whistled loudly, all eyes turned to them.
"BULMA'S HOME!" The boy announced.
Author's note: It took quite a while, but Bulma is back on Earth. She's not out of the woods yet though. Next week, overdue reunions, and historic meetings.