Bulma cursed under her breath while shifting her car to park that night. The firefighters were already on the chaotic scene, the latest from the vigilante, and they seemed to have tamed down the inferno. The building that had once been an abandoned bar was still smoking though as the firefighters kept only a couple of hoses on at full force, other firefighters dashing about the firetrucks and police cars that were flashing their lights. She noted that the yellow crime scene tape was already being rolled out to section off the whole area.
That was her cue. It was time to go to work.
Bulma got out of her car, donning black body armor with large yellow letters on the front and back spelling WCPD. She walked up to the smoking building, ducking underneath the crime scene tape. She examined the building in front of her, what remained of it anyway, as Krillin jogged up to her. He was wearing matching body armor. He was to be her number two on the case.
"Bulma, you're here," he breathed out, relieved. "No rest for the wicked eh?"
"Not when this vigilante only strikes at night," she sighed, before turning her gaze to her junior detective. "So what have we got?"
"10 bodies inside from what we can tell of the remains, 1 out back," Krillin informed her, leading the way around the building towards the back alley. "We haven't ID'd anyone yet, but the guy out back was armed. Safe to assume the rest were too. I'd bet my kidneys it's Frieza's guys, but no confirmation yet."
"No need to bet any kidneys, Krillin, I'm pretty sure you're right," Bulma said, her tone grim as they rounded the back corner of the smoking building. There was a corpse in the back, laying on the ground and burnt beyond recognition. Bulma's nose crinkled a bit. "Man, this guy is ruthless," she commented idly.
"You think it's just one guy?" Krillin asked incredulously, as Bulma slowly walked around the dead body, scrutinizing the scene. "It seems more like a well-trained group to cause this much damage, don't you think?"
"One well-trained group, or one expert," Bulma whispered to herself. She squatted down, her blue eyes on a discarded shell casing, a gold piece of discarded metal among the mess of destroyed glass and brick on the ground. "Look at what we've got here. I'm guessing our friend here didn't die from the fire, and someone put him down for good. Make sure we get pictures and this gets bagged as evidence."
"Right," he agreed, squatting down next to her. "Man, you have eagle eyes. I didn't even notice this casing with all the debris out here."
"Remember, it's not enough to look, you have to see," she told him, frowning as she stared at the shell casing. "This type of caliber is a bit excessive if he shot the guy from this distance. This type of ammo is usually for military grade sniper rifles."
"I guess he didn't want him to get back up."
Bulma stood, glancing around at the buildings surrounding them, specifically their rooftops. "I want all adjacent buildings checked for entrances and exits, and I want to know if there are any cameras that may have recorded what happened here. Check the rooftops especially," she ordered.
"Will do," Krillin agreed, turning away as he paged in the orders.
Having surveyed things outside, Bulma decided it was time to bite the bullet and take a look at the situation inside. The firefighters had done their job and put out the flames, but the building was still emanating heat and was still smoking considerably. Bulma, though, had never been deterred by such things, and wasn't going to start that night. She entered into the abandoned bar from the back entrance, her boots crunching on the broken glass and debris.
The detective took out her flashlight to help her see better, and was greeted by sheer gore. Body parts were scattered and burned beyond recognition, the smell of the burning flesh still lingering. Finally, someone from the front of the bar saw her flashlight, and quickly called out.
"Who's there?" the firefighter demanded.
"Detective Briefs, WCPD," she announced.
"Ah, Bulma," the man sighed with relief as she shined the flashlight at him. "Glad they have you on this. We need all the help we can get."
"Tien," she greeted, nodding to him as she walked over. He had a mixture of ash and sweat on his face, his firefighter helmet perched on his head with the letters WCFD. "Long time no see. Got anything for me?"
"Well, the fire was caused by some IED exploding for sure, looks like something mechanical that got triggered. We have shrapnel all over the place here along with the weapons they all had on them. But there is one other thing that might interest you."
Tien turned then and headed behind the bar area as Bulma looked around again. She could see that the coroner had just pulled up, and she empathized; their job would be especially rough that night.
She turned when Tien pointed to a fallen, broken framed photo on the ground, semi-propped up. Whatever image had been there was now long gone, but what caught her interest was the small mounted device that was on the top edge of the frame. It was burnt, but out of place if you paid enough attention. She squatted down to get a better look, aiming her flashlight over it. To her surprise, she saw a dim red light pulsing on the other end of the black device, as though the battery was dying. There was a small antenna sticking out of it, and then it dawned on her what she was looking at.
"This is a listening bug," she breathed in awe, a small grin spreading over her face.
"It was blocked by some other debris, so it didn't fry to a total crisp. The dim light is the only reason I noticed it."
Bulma's lips pursed in thought as she leaned forward to examine the device with her flashlight. Most of it was burnt, and she doubted it was functional, but it had enough juice that the lab at the station should be able to work with it. And if all else failed, she could take a stab at it herself – she took to technology like she took to breathing. Hopefully she didn't need to do that though, as she had her hands full enough as it was.
"Bulma!"
Bulma stood as she and Tien both looked over as Krillin ran inside. "What is it? Did you find something else?" she asked him as she turned the flashlight in his direction.
"Not something – someone!" Krillin told her with a grin.
"You mean…"
"Yup," he announced, his eyes bright even in the darkness of the bar. "We have an eyewitness who saw the vigilante."
Meanwhile, Vegeta was walking down a familiar residential neighborhood that same night. After his conversation with Goku, he had paid a quick visit to a 24/7 grocery store, and now was carrying a paper bag in one arm against his chest filled with simple groceries. He was wearing a baseball cap to hide most of his spiked hair, and looked for all intents and purposes like a man heading home after a late-night run for groceries.
When he found the building he was interested in, he turned to head in. He got to the front door, and then reached into one of his jean pockets. Vegeta patted it a few times, and then tilted his head back as he groaned.
"Forgot your fob?" someone asked as they came up behind him to enter the building. Vegeta stepped aside, shifting his paper bag of groceries to his other arm.
"Yeah, looks like it; mind letting me in? Wife sent me to get some things and I forgot my fob like an idiot. I'd rather not wake her – she's pregnant, you know how it is," Vegeta gruffly said to the other man, hoping he sounded convincing enough.
It appeared that he did, because the other man gave him a crooked smile. "Yeah, no worries man."
Just like that, Vegeta followed the man into the building. He gave the other man a nod, watching as he went into the elevator, but Vegeta opted for the stairs as he retraced his steps from a couple of weeks ago.
Soon he was on the third floor, in front of Bulma's apartment. He looked around briefly, and then reached into his pocket for a lockpick. He made it look like he was unlocking the door normally, using the paper bag of groceries to shield himself, and soon had the door unlocked.
Vegeta pushed his way inside, letting the door close behind him. He went over to the kitchen counter, not bothering with the lights. He knew that his latest carnage would keep WCPD's best detective well-occupied for some time, but it wouldn't be forever, so he had to move fast. Vegeta put the bag down on the counter, and then reached down inside it, going past the loaf of bread, vegetables, and cheeses to take out a screwdriver and a brand new listening bug.
His dark eyes scanned the empty apartment, looking for a good place to plant the bug. It had to be more discreet than the last one, as she was definitely smarter than the imbeciles he had killed earlier that night. It would be bad business for her to find it easily; as the lead detective gunning to bring him down, it was in his best interest to stay one step ahead. After all, he refused to let anyone stand in his way – even her.
Still, standing in her apartment, he couldn't help the memories from their night together…
He growled and shook his head. It was time for business. He opted for the bedroom, and went into it, forcing himself to ignore everything about the room (and the memories of what they had done in said room) and focus on his task. Vegeta went to a desk Bulma had in the corner, grabbing the chair and positioning it under the main vent in the room. He then climbed up on the chair and began to unscrew the vent cover.
Vegeta suddenly froze when he heard knocking on the apartment door. He quickly unscrewed the vent cover, put in the voice-activated listening device as deep inside as he could with the red pulsing light angling away (and covered with black tape for good measure), and then re-screwed it back on. The knocking continued, so he hopped off the chair and leaned up against the wall next to the bedroom entrance as the front door to the apartment opened.
"B? You here?" a man called out. A light turned on in the kitchen, though the bedroom was still far enough away that it was still dark. Vegeta silently pulled out his handgun as he leaned his head back against the wall.
He heard shuffling in the kitchen for a moment, and then a half minute later, the light turned off and the door opened and closed again, locking from the outside. Vegeta waited a few long moments before he finally tucked his gun back behind his jeans, put Bulma's chair back where it was, and then left back to the kitchen. He went to retrieve the bag of groceries on the counter, where he noticed a bouquet of roses, a set of keys, and a card addressed to Bulma that had not been there when he had entered. Vegeta scowled at the items, but he retrieved his paper bag and left the apartment without a look back.
Soon enough, he arrived at his own apartment, in the opposite direction of Bulma's apartment from the neighborhood bar that was halfway between them. The building where he rented was a simple one, with only two apartments – one on the main floor, and the basement apartment, which was his. His landlord was a deaf old lady who did not have the best vision. She kept to herself, and allowed him to pay her cash, and thus the arrangement worked just fine for both of them.
Vegeta left the paper bag of groceries right in front of her apartment door, which he sometimes did for her – and which she always assumed was her son checking in. Vegeta knew that the man never did come visit his mother, but he never bothered correcting her thoughts, figuring it was a small positive deed he could do in the madness he was currently in. He then rounded the back of the building to the steps leading down to his simple and bare-bones basement studio apartment. It was almost three in the morning now, which was usually his prime time for action - but he hadn't slept in days, and he was exhausted.
He set up the sound piece in his ear that was synced to the bug in Bulma's apartment, and then adjusted his brand new radio that was linked to the tactical frequencies the WCPD liked to use. He then took off his cap, hoodie, body armor, and his shirt, putting it all onto a chair in the room at a desk. Examining his impressive selection of weapons, he picked up a rifle and made sure it was fully loaded.
A moment later and he had his shoes kicked off and was finally lying down on his mattress on the floor. He released a deep breath that carried with it an exhaustion years in the making, not bothering with removing his jeans as he settled the rifle down and across his torso, gripping the handle with his finger extended above the trigger. It was the position he had slept in thousands of times while in the Marines, in all kinds of adverse conditions. It ensured that if someone tried getting a jump on him while he slept, he would not be going down without a fight.
His eyes were heavy as he turned his head and his tired gaze settled on a small picture frame propped up on the floor next to his mattress. He was just a boy in the picture, standing with his mother who was carrying his infant brother, a cut out spot next to them where his father had once been in the picture.
For them, he would persevere and have his vengeance, even if it cost him everything. He had nothing left to lose now.
He finally fell asleep only moments later, dreaming of better days.
A few relentless pings sounded on Vegeta's phone the next morning, making him scowl as he slowly opened his eyes. He squinted over at the phone, which he had set to mask his IP address with encryption, disabling the actual phone features - lest his certain cop friend try to track him down. He picked it up and saw that he had a few messages from Goku on a secure messaging app they both used.
G: Hey, just wanted to check in to see how you're doing.
G: I am kinda worried about you.
G: Want to get breakfast this morning so we can chat? Or maybe you can come over for dinner after I get off work? Chi-Chi would love to see you.
Vegeta snorted at the last message; Goku's wife had hated him for years, even before they were married. He checked the time and then tossed the phone aside. Moving his rifle over, Vegeta sat up and yawned. Morning time was down time to recover for the afternoon, which he would spend doing reconnaissance and gathering information about his next targets. Then the day would end, nighttime would begin, and his revenge would resume once again. It would not end until Frieza was dead by his hand.
This was all his life consisted of now, and needless to say, he wasn't in the mood for a breakfast or dinner chat. Standing slowly, he sluggishly went about making himself a fresh pot of coffee.
Half an hour later, on the other side of town, Bulma's phone rang, making her groan into her pillow. She had been at the police station almost until the sun was coming up, trying to force their eyewitness, Frieza's man Cui, to cooperate. Cui had willingly turned himself over to the police, apparently more scared of the vigilante than his boss, being as low level as he was. But he refused to give Bulma any information, on either the vigilante or the Cold criminal organization – not until he had a deal that gave him immunity and guaranteed him witness protection. Bulma had tried calling the DA to get it done, but the paperwork and red tape caught up to all of them. Finally, the DA had told her to just go to sleep and that they would handle it in the morning, as Cui wasn't going anywhere.
After only two hours of sleep, she was not happy to wake up to the name flashing on her cell phone.
Bulma angrily swiped her phone, putting it on speakerphone. "What is it, Yamcha?" she demanded, completely unaware that her voice had activated the listening bug hidden in her vent, and the vigilante she was hunting for was now listening in on the conversation.
"Hi, B. I hope I didn't wake you."
"You did."
"Ahh I'm sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you go into work."
Bulma sighed, rolling onto her back as she closed her eyes. "Well, you got me for a bit. What did you need?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to talk and see how you are. I miss you, and I'm worried about you."
Across town, Vegeta rolled his eyes as he sat at his small breakfast table, drinking his hot coffee as he listened in through his earpiece. He had his phone in front of him, and was scrolling through the daily news in West City, reading over the reports of his carnage the evening before. Like Bulma, he also believed in staying updated on what the media had to say - especially as they were basically reporting on him.
"I don't need you to worry about me," Bulma retorted. "And while I appreciate you bringing me back your set of keys to my place, I didn't need the flowers and the card…you know that this doesn't work between us, so why keep doing this?"
"It's just, you've been working these crazy hours, and now Krillin is saying that you're in charge of the investigation into this vigilante stuff, and, well…I don't know. I know you can probably kick my butt, but I can't help it, I still care and I'm worried."
Bulma sighed again, slowly sitting up. Her tone was more understanding this time. "I appreciate the concern, but you really don't need to worry. I got a few breaks yesterday in this investigation, and it'll be over soon."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yep, got one of you-know-who's men who survived the latest attack last night. He says he can ID the vigilante, so with this eyewitness, it should be a wrap soon."
Vegeta suddenly froze, holding his mug of coffee just in front of his lips as he blinked in shock.
"Oh man, that definitely makes me feel better," Yamcha sighed in relief.
"Good, I'm glad."
"Maybe when this all blows over, we can talk?"
"Yamcha…" Bulma sighed.
"Just as friends, that's all!"
"Listen, I gotta start getting ready for work. We will see what happens once this is all over, alright?"
At that, Vegeta removed the earpiece from his ear, downing the rest of his coffee in one shot. He got up and quickly began to get dressed, the whole time cursing angrily to himself. He knew he should have done a more thorough check around the building last night to make sure no one had survived the explosion, and now he had a loose end to deal with. He could not allow whoever it was to escape his own brand of justice, nor could he allow the police to get so far ahead of him that they stopped him before he had achieved his revenge.
Vegeta made sure his handgun was fully loaded, and then tucked it into his jeans. Grabbing the rifle he had slept with, he double checked that it was loaded as well. He then left his apartment, heading towards the back alley where he had a used van waiting with more ammunition and more gear that he would need.
Whoever the eyewitness was, Vegeta would make sure they were dead before the day was over.
