Bulma wasn't even sure what happened next, she just knew that suddenly she was in the front yard, waiting for her piece of shit 'boyfriend' to come by.

He didn't even give her a firm answer on what time he'd be stopping by. Or if he even wanted to go out to eat with her. What a fucking asshole.

She decided to, very calmly, have a seat in one of the outdoor yard chairs by the front entrance. She placed his wallet with the business card tucked inside on the patio table.

She sat there silently fuming for who knew who long before she heard the gravity chamber door open.

Vegeta immediately looked over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

Oh he didn't want to test her right now, that's for sure.

"What?" she asked, unable to hide the venom in her voice.

He walked over, his body covered in sweat. He had a towel over his shoulder, and he used it to quickly wipe his forehead before tossing it on the ground. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?!" Bulma shot up from her seat, her anger boiling over. "What is wrong with YOU? You give me this obnoxious, spoiled brat attitude all the time, you act like it's my only fucking job in the world to build toys for you!" She was on the verge of a full on meltdown.

"Wha-"

"I get it, okay?! I'm just a means to everyone else's ends. That's just fine. If you want to use me, you're gonna have to get in line!"

He stared at her for a few moments, his onyx eyes assessing her. She was huffing from trying to catch her breath, and she didn't dare look away from his gaze.

"I meant," he said, eyes finally pulling away from her and flicking over to the wallet on the table. "What is bothering you?"

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?!"

"I could feel your energy while I was in the chamber. It was incredibly distracting," he told her, irritation in his voice. "I thought you were engaged in some weakling battle out here, but I come out and see you calmly reclining in a chair."

Bulma gaped at him, trying to assess what he just said. "You…you felt my energy?"

A pink flush rushed to his face. "Yes. I feel everyone's energy around here. Your mother's in the kitchen, your father is in his lab, and your puny, weakling boyfriend is about to make his landing."

Bulma instantly spun around, catching sight of Yamcha pulling up in his flying car. Oh, she was going to tear him a new one.

"There it is. What has you so worked up?" Vegeta asked her again, crossing his arms as she snagged the wallet from the table.

"Vegeta…I don't have time for this right now. I have to go shove my foot up this douchebag's ass."

"Douche…bag?" he asked after her, but she was already stalking off.

She stomped over to Yamcha as he was opening his car door. "H-hey B…" He already looked pale, a sweatdrop was forming on his brow. He was wearing an old white sweatshirt and dark jeans. She would've called him handsome under different circumstances.

"Hi," she answered with a sweet smile. "How was your flight over here? Pick up any women on the way?"

"N-no…what are you talking about, honey?" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Oh!" she pretended to act surprised. "We're playing that game again, are we? You don't know what I'm talking about?" She flipped open his wallet, snatching up the business card and letting the wallet fall to the ground.

She shoved it in his face. "So. You're meeting up with Cheryl, huh?"

"Oh come on, B…" Yamcha said with an anxious smile. "It's not like that!"

"Of course, it's totally not!" she snapped. "What is it like then, huh?"

"It's just business!"

For the second time this week, she threw her head back and allowed herself to laugh like a maniac. She took a deep breath. "BUSINESS? Yamcha, you dumbass. Please, explain to me why a no-name baseball player is doing business with a pharmaceutical rep?"

He stammered, trying to come up with something, anything. "I, uh-"

"Lemme guess, you need her to give you pills to keep your dick hard?"

"Bulma!" Yamcha screeched out in embarrassment. She heard dark laughter behind her, but she ignored it.

"You know what, Yamcha, it's fine. Really." She pulled her capsule out of her pocket, popping it open with a BOM. She released a small mountain of junk onto the lawn. "We tried. We really did. Well, I did. You fucked around one too many times." She swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat. She wasn't going to let him see her cry over him.

Yamcha had the nerve to scoff. "Okay, like you've been perfect, Bulma."

That was the exact wrong thing to say.

Bulma felt a pure, white-hot rage flow through her veins. Any tears evaporated from her eyes seemingly instantaneously.

"You're right," she told him. She was proud that her voice remained steady. "I haven't been perfect."

She reached down, pushing aside some old shirts from the pile of junk and pulling his old baseball bat out of its loose duffel bag.

"B…" Yamcha put his hands up in front of himself, urging her to calm down. She pushed past him, walking up to his precious little flying car.

"I made plenty of mistakes. Like putting up with your shit for too long." Bulma gripped the bat with both hands, wound up her swing, and with a satisfying smash, she busted through his driver's side window.

"Bulma! Stop it!" he shrieked, his hands finding his hair in a panic. "What are you doing?!" There was more chuckling behind them.

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was deaf to his shouts, walking around to the front end of his car and smashing in one of his headlights.

"You're fucking crazy!" he yelled, running up behind her and trying to get a grasp on the bat. She managed to use her momentum to twist out of his grip, swinging backward, then busting his other headlight.

"Bulma!" Yamcha's voice cracked as he tried to gain control of the situation. He reached out, grabbing her right arm to stop her from getting his windshield next. "Stop it!"

"Keep your hands off the woman."

Both Bulma and Yamcha froze in place, turning to stare back at their audience of one. Yamcha's hand remained clamped on her arm. Bulma blinked a few times, as if coming out of a reverie. Vegeta was demanding that Yamcha let her go.

He appeared to teleport beside them. Her eyes couldn't keep up with his speed.

"Hands. Off. The woman," Vegeta growled again, his glare melting into Yamcha's shocked face. He didn't so much as glance Bulma's way.

"Stay out of thi-"

In the blink of an eye, Yamcha had released Bulma's arm. He was dangling from Vegeta's chokehold. It was effortless, the way the saiyan warrior lifted a man who was taller than him. He could kill him without breaking a sweat. It would be as simple as a squeeze of his fingers.

"Vegeta! Stop!" Bulma demanded, dropping the baseball bat. Her hands flew up to his arm, clutching his bicep in desperation. She felt the tension in the air, and knew he was more than capable of ending Yamcha's life in an instant.

Time seemed to stand still. The three of them in front of Yamcha's battered car, Bulma pleading for Vegeta to stop, and Vegeta easily holding Yamcha aloft, Yamcha sputtering as a strong thumb crushed his windpipe.

There was a predatory glint in Vegeta's eyes. He knew the power he held here. This was when a warrior of his class shined. Combat. If you could call it that. Yamcha's eyes bulged slightly. Her heart was pounding with such an intensity she was sure it would burst out of her chest.

Vegeta closed his eyes, taking in a long breath of air through his nose. He seemed to be thinking.

"Please…" she asked him softly, voice barely a whisper.

He released Yamcha, who crumpled to the ground, hands to his throat, mouth gaping for air like a fish out of water.

She kept her hands on Vegeta's arm for a few moments. She stared at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. "Thank you."

"Tch." He wrenched his arm out of her delicate grip. "Clean up your mess somewhere else next time." Vegeta abruptly turned and left, making his way back towards the gravity machine.

Bulma let out a slow exhale. Things had gotten really out of control for a second there. She leaned down to check on Yamcha, but he swatted her hand away.

"I'm fine," he managed to croak out, not exactly sounding fine.

"Just…go," she told him, turning away from her official ex-boyfriend and heading towards the house.

—