Bulma had a grim look on her face the next morning, exhaling through her nose as she stared down at the body lying among overflowing garbage bags on the ground in front of the dumpsters. Even as bludgeoned as the body was, she recognized it as the eyewitness they had tried making a deal with, Cui. She studied the corpse for several long seconds, taking in how disfigured he was. He had been mercilessly beaten, then gunned down, with a dead rat shoved halfway into his mouth as he laid behind the building of an extermination company. They had spent the entire day after the vigilante struck the police station trying to find Cui to save him, just to get here the next morning and realize it was to no avail.

Guess Frieza wasn't as subtle as you thought he was, Cui, she mused to herself, her eyebrows drawing together. There was the slim possibility that it was the vigilante who had gotten to him and done this, but she had worked long enough to recognize Frieza's brutality. Still, she found herself feeling a rare sense of guilt as her blue eyes lingered on him. Seeing corpses was par for the course when one was a detective working in a large city that was practically ruled by Frieza's massive criminal organization. But she had gotten a rare break with Cui, and should have been more careful handling someone who was willing to go on the record against Frieza. She should have protected him better.

It was a rare mistake, and one she would never make again.

Bulma sighed again, turning her attention to her junior detective as he walked up next to her. Krillin was still wearing a noticeable black eye from the vigilante assault on the police precinct, but other police officers had to take time off to recover from the bean bag rounds they had taken that night. Plus, looking down at the corpse before them, he figured he couldn't complain too much.

"Well, that's him alright," Krillin muttered. Bulma didn't respond, her blue eyes lowering to his two cups of coffee. Krillin extended one over to her, and she took it before turning away, letting the coroner step in to do their job. Other police officers scattered about, taping up the crime scene. "Should we check for cameras around here?"

"No," Bulma replied. She began walking away and getting out of the range of the crime scene tape, with Krillin right on her heels. "He wasn't killed here, just dumped here to be found. You can tell by the lack of blood. We won't find anything noteworthy here," she mumbled. "Frieza just wanted to send a message, hence the rat, the garbage, and the location. You can check the cameras if you like, but you won't find anything. Now," she said, stopping and looking sharply at her junior detective. "Let's step through the paces, Krillin. Why would he be killed?"

"Because he was going to turn on Frieza."

"Yes, but why else?" Bulma pressed.

"Uh…" Krillin started, as they turned and began walking towards the parking lot where their cars were. "Uh, I may need more coffee for this."

Bulma almost cracked a smile in amusement, but it was fleeting. "If he was killed, it's because Cui was no longer of use to Frieza, which means we have to assume that Frieza's got the information Cui was going to give us on the vigilante. In order words, we have to assume that Frieza now knows who the vigilante is."

Krillin swallowed heavily. "And if Frieza knows who the vigilante is…"

The grim look on Bulma's face was back. "Yes, then there will be open war between them, and things are about to get a lot messier – especially since we don't know who the vigilante is yet."

"The guys back at the precinct tried checking all the camera angles from the vigilante assault the other night. We've got nothing. The guy is good," Krillin said, his voice a mixture of admiration and frustration.

"Yes, he is – so we have to be better. We can't stand on the sidelines while this goes on. We need to get the vigilante before he and Frieza burn this whole city to the ground." Bulma paused when she got to her car, then turned her scrutinizing gaze back on Krillin.

"We are going turn up the heat, Krillin. I want you to cross check EVERY unresolved murder in this city over the last year with surviving family members who have police or military experience…whoever this is, he's a pro, so look especially hard into anyone who is special ops or has tactical experience. He's got dark hair, from the little Cui gave us. Oh, and definitely take over that shitbag Mike's case work, as he's probably been covering up Cold murders going back some time now. While you do that, I'll take over on running down the stores where someone could have bought the listening bug we found at the bar, then we'll cross the information we both get and see how this cookie crumbles. I want that information in the next two days, got it?"

Krillin grimaced. "That's a ton of legwork to get done in two days," he nervously said.

"I'll talk to the chief and see if we can get some surge support. Be prepared for some overtime. We are behind, Krillin, so we have to catch up fast, because we are flying blind right now."

"Got it," he said with a determined nod. "So, what will we do with the vigilante once we find him? Are we going to try to flip him?"

Bulma visibly hesitated at the question, as though that thought hadn't occurred to her – or like she had not fully allowed herself to entertain such a thing.

"Someone like that?…I don't know. It'd be a real stretch to turn him," she said with a frown, shaking her head. "While he'd make for a great asset on paper, he's probably too far gone to listen to reason, if he thinks taking the law into his own hands is more efficient than coming to us in the first place. Besides, he launched a direct assault on our own police precinct," she growled more heatedly than he expected.

"That is true, but, Bulma…" Krillin scratched the back of his head. "He didn't even use live ammunition, even when we fired on him…I don't think he wanted to kill any of us cops. Maybe he would listen and be willing to work with us, like Cui did? You know, help us take down Frieza?"

Bulma looked at him with exasperation. "Krillin, this guy is extremely dangerous. But…" she hesitated again for a second, before opening the door to her car and getting in. She turned on the car, and rolled down her window to tell him with a sigh, "Look, we'll see what happens. Let's figure out who the hell he is first, as soon as possible. If we're lucky, we can find him before Frieza does and bring him in. Then we'll see if he's willing to play ball."

"Right, I'll get back to the office soon and get on that paperwork," Krillin said, turning to head back to his own car.

"Hey, Krillin," she called out to him. The junior detective paused and looked back.

"Yeah?"

"If by chance you stumble on this guy, don't try to negotiate with him. I know that some of the guys in the office sympathize with him and what he's doing, and I won't judge that if you agree with them…but we have a job to do. If you find him and you're alone, you give him the chance to get cuffed and taken in, or you take him down for good. Body armor and loaded gun from now on until this is over, just in case, because things may start to get messy soon. Got it?"

Krillin nodded. "Got it."

She watched as he walked off, exhaling deeply. Keeping her window down, Bulma retrieved a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. Her thoughts were on Krillin's words as she took out her lighter and lit the cigarette, before taking a necessary draw. She didn't care that it was still morning; the stress of this case was taking its toll, especially when the cops were still on their heels. Still, she briefly allowed herself to contemplate turning the vigilante to their side. It was hard to say without knowing how deep his knowledge was on Frieza's operations, or even if he would want to; hell, with the way things were going, she would be shocked if he would even allow himself to be taken into custody alive.

But as she shifted her car to drive to get back on his trail, she figured that one should never say never.


Vegeta was sitting on the driver side of his van later that evening, with shades over bloodshot eyes and a necessary cup of coffee in hand. He was starting to sport the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow, and was fighting a hangover, which made him look rougher than usual.

After spending hours at the graveyard the previous evening, he had found a bar and had gotten hammered, as a man was prone to doing when intense, unresolved grief mixed with heavy guilt and the constant threat of his imminent death. Vegeta had crawled into the back of his van afterwards, where he had passed out among his rifles and his ammunition and other gear, his only sources of comfort these days. He had slept all morning and well into the afternoon, giving in to an exhaustion that only seemed to be getting worse as the days passed. Coffee barely helped, but it was better than nothing.

Vegeta stared out from the window to the building where his apartment was while he took a sip of coffee. He had seen no unusual activity near the building, but had seen enough to know that his elderly landlady was gone, for she always liked sitting by the window at this hour while she knitted. Her son had clearly heeded his warning, which was good. After all, Vegeta may have been a murderous vigilante, but he wasn't a complete monster; he had a code, and an elderly woman did not fall into that. She did not deserve to die any more than his brother and mother had, and he was grateful for not having that concern hanging over his head.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, not for the first time questioning whether he should go back inside at all. His basement studio apartment did not have much – the majority of his arsenal of weaponry he kept in a storage unit, a collection he had amassed under Frieza's nose before he was legally old enough to drive under one of his various aliases. There had been no big purpose back then, except that guns of all kinds had fascinated him as a child, and he had never outgrown that. He kept a decent fraction of his supply in his van, and had the least amount in the apartment. The apartment was more for the tactical radios and the gear that let him eavesdrop on his listening bugs.

Still, none of that mattered to him. Those things were not the reason why he was parked where he was, eyes trained on the building he lived in. Sure, it was annoying to lose his tactical radios and the listening bug in Bulma's apartment, but the police were no longer his primary concern. With Frieza's men now potentially knowing who he was, they had to be the priority. He had to start thinking defensively now. The police were still floundering, and though he was sure they would eventually catch up, his hope was to be long gone before they did – ideally with Frieza wearing a bullet in his skull before he booked it and went officially on the run.

Vegeta removed his shades as it got darker outside. No, he was only coming back for the pictures. He wanted the pictures of his mother and brother – that was it, and that was all. Even though his better judgment warned against it, this whole insanity was driven by raw emotion. He had lost enough to Frieza; he would be damned to lose anything else.

Finally, it was night, and Vegeta felt himself come alive as he sat up in his seat, his exhaustion falling to the background as his senses sharpened. Imminent action, the promise of violence, the threat of death – these things may have raised adrenaline in other men, but they had always calmed and steadied him. There was a reason why he had earned several medals for combat valor from the Marines before his discharge; the more dangerous the situation, the more at home he was.

Vegeta started up the van, then drove around to the back alley where he parked further back than he usually did. He got out and then suited up: two loaded handguns, one behind his jeans and one inside a holster above his ankle. His lucky blade on the inside of his black leather jacket, body armor underneath. Finally, his favorite rifle. After making sure all weapons were loaded – this time, everything was lethal – he quietly closed the door and locked his van, while he silently made his way around the back of the building. There were other homes near but not close enough to concern him; plus the unruly backyard of his land lady gave him perfect cover, especially in the darkness.

Vegeta descended the concrete steps moments later towards the entrance of his basement apartment, his rifle extended in front of him, his hands rock steady. He finally lowered the rifle, squatting as he leaned his ear up against the door. He scowled as he strained to hear anything. The light was on inside – that was not promising. Reaching up, he gently tried the knob – it was unlocked.

A heartbeat later, Vegeta pushed the door open and immediately stepped in, sweeping his rifle around the apartment with a trained tactical efficiency. There was no one there. He quickly went over to the bathroom, scanning that small room, but that was empty as well. His scowl deepened, but he would take his breaks where he got them. Lowering his rifle, he went over towards his mattress on the floor and picked up a slew of pictures, taking his favorite one out of the frame, shoving them roughly into the back pocket of his jeans. He snatched up the ear piece for the listening bug in Bulma's apartment, then while he was at it, snatched up his last package of pop-tarts. He ripped it open with his teeth, practically devouring both pop-tarts in just a few bites – he had not eaten since leaving his therapist the day before. The radios would have to be abandoned, they were too heavy to take out easily.

Vegeta finally made his way to the door to leave, when he paused. His eyes immediately shot upwards towards the ceiling as he instinctively lifted his rifle towards that direction. He stayed silent for some long moments, holding his position, before he heard something again.

Footsteps.

He hesitated, briefly torn for a fleeting second – he could leave, or he could go investigate. But beyond wanting revenge on Frieza, he wanted to devastate him as much as possible by killing as many of his men as he could. Plus, were they staking out her apartment in hopes that she would return, so they could beat her or kill her for information? The thought alone filled him with rage. The men for Frieza had no code, which made them animals, which meant he had to put them down.

Vegeta quietly turned off the lights to his apartment, closed the door behind him, and silently maneuvered his way up the back steps until he was slowly coming up on the back porch entrance to her apartment. Vegeta paused once again at the door; he could hear the TV on inside. Further proof that this was not his landlady, for she was always sleeping by this time. He hesitated though – could it be her son, house sitting? The thought made him reach into his jacket pocket, where he pulled out his cell phone. Going through an encrypted app, Vegeta dialed her number, and then brought the phone up to his ear while he waited.

He heard the phone faintly ringing inside. There was some aggravated grumbling from some men inside, and then someone answered.

He recognized the voice on the other end; it was not her son, it was Dodoria. "You got the wrong numb-"

Vegeta viciously kicked in the back door before the word was complete. He instantly shot both men who were sitting at the kitchen table in the head as they stood up, killing them on the spot. Without hesitating and before they had even fallen, he moved through the kitchen as he heard chaos in the living room.

Vegeta briefly swept his rifle as he passed an open bedroom, making sure no one was hiding in there, when someone rushed him from the side with their own rifle. Vegeta turned and raised his own rifle horizontally to defend himself, then kicked the other man as hard as he could in the chest. He looked up then and saw two other men aiming their guns right at him, and he dove into the bedroom right before they opened fire.

He quickly scrambled up, moving next to the bedroom door. He only had to wait a second before the first man ran through the door, catching an immediate bullet to the skull from Vegeta. He waited for the others to come, but for several long seconds there was only silence, and the sound of his own heart ringing in his ears.

Vegeta was wondering if they were going to run, when a cascade of bullets started flying through the wall of the bedroom in his direction. Vegeta dove down to the floor to shield himself from the flying bullets, exploding plaster, and flying pieces of shattered wood, and then the other two were upon him.

Vegeta forced himself up to his knees right as a gun was pointed in his face – he instantly seized it, twisting the hand hard enough to break it before the bullet was fired to the side. He then twisted the man's hand around with raw strength until the gun was pointing back into its owner's face, and fired. The assailant dropped dead on the spot.

One more, Vegeta counted, turning back to the last man – he had caught enough flashes of him to recognize him as Dodoria. However, no sooner did he turn after forcing the other goon to shoot himself in the face, than Dodoria swung a metal baseball bat right into Vegeta's chest. Vegeta hissed in pain – his body armor was designed more for bullets, and he was still sore from Goku shooting him two nights ago. He barely was able to get a hand up before Dodoria fiercely swung the bat again, this time aiming right at his head.

Vegeta was able to absorb some of the blow with his forearm – enough so it would not instantly kill him, but not enough to prevent the explosion of pain that ruptured in his skull as Dodoria smashed his metal bat right against his temple. Too dazed to even make a sound in pain from the blow, Vegeta dropped his rifle as he fell to the floor on his stomach from the shot, fighting the overwhelming darkness tainting his vision while the room blurred around him. He could vaguely feel an alarming amount of warm blood in his hair and running down his face.

"Bastard," Dodoria seethed, circling the fallen man. "You always did think you were too good for us, didn't you? Well, this is what you get now, you son of a bitch. Frieza wants you alive, but I'm just gonna have to tell him I had no choice. You remember how much I love my bat, don't you, Vegeta? I'm going to love it more when I use it to bash your brains in."

Vegeta valiantly forced himself slowly up to his hands and knees. He rapidly shook his head, trying to shake off the effects of the blow, his arms shaking from the effort. He reached behind him weakly to retrieve his handgun, when Dodoria hit him hard with the bat, this time across his back. Vegeta dropped again, this time shouting in agony as the pain ripped through his spine.

"You should have just shut up and taken it when Frieza killed your brother. Gone away and licked your wounds, lived out your miserable life. But no, you couldn't do that, could you?" Dodoria demanded. Vegeta grunted weakly, the words barely registering. Dodoria could practically smell the promotion that awaited him as he mounted Vegeta from behind, straddling his lower back. "This will be better than bashing you to bits. That's too easy of a way for you to go. Now, you're gonna pay! It was nice knowing you, Vegeta!" he laughed.

With that, Dodoria slipped his bat under Vegeta's chin, and then gripped both ends of it as he pulled back hard. Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut in pain as he felt himself being painfully strangled while he was forced to arch back.

Just as his vision was darkening again, a memory flashed…

"So when am I gonna meet this girl?" Vegeta asked while he got a cold bottle of beer out of the fridge.

"Why, so you can scare her away like the rest?"

Vegeta scoffed, looking annoyed. "If I have scared anyone away, then they deserved it. Besides, I think I have the right to know who my kid brother is dating."

Tarble chuckled. "Yeah, you'll meet her soon. We are still getting to know each other. I'm taking her to the movies tonight."

Vegeta grunted, leaning back against the counter as he watched his brother scurry around the living room. He took a swig of his beer while Tarble grew more agitated, lifting up the cushions of the sofa. "What are you looking for?" he finally asked.

"I can't find my keys!" Tarble exclaimed in frustration, making his older brother roll his eyes.

"For some rockstar soon-to-be med school student, you really are scatterbrained, Tarble. They're right here on the counter," Vegeta informed him, raising the keys in question and jiggling them obnoxiously as he showed them to Tarble.

Tarble flashed him a smile of relief. "Thanks!" he said, jogging over to snatch the keys from his brother.

"Don't forget the condoms," Vegeta drawled, before leaning his head back and laughing at the appalled look Tarble gave him. Compared to him, Tarble had been quite sheltered, and it was just so easy to get a rise out of him that Vegeta couldn't resist.

"Vegeta!" Tarble yelled, in the pseudo little brother whine that Vegeta still managed to get out of him sometimes. Vegeta just laughed more. "That's my potential GIRLFRIEND you're talking about!"

Vegeta smirked, shrugging with indifference. "Call her what you want, kid, just wrap sure you keep it wrapped. I'm not interested in being an uncle just yet, got it?"

Tarble reddened in embarrassment, "Vegeta, I am not a little kid anymore-"

He was cut off by Vegeta smacking him in the back of the head, knocking his ball cap off his head. Tarble awkwardly managed to catch it before it fell to the floor. "Better get out of here, college boy, or you're going to be late. I don't date, and even I know that you don't want to keep a woman waiting."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you later."

"Text me when you're on the way home."

"Will do!" Tarble called back, practically running out of the door. Vegeta turned away to kick his feet up on the sofa and relax for a while, blissfully unaware that it was the last time he would ever see his brother alive…

Tarble. The images faded and Vegeta cracked his eyes open, blinding pain in his head welcoming him back to the current situation, along with his throat and chest which were on fire as Dodoria strangled the life out of him, if his back wasn't broken first. He owed it to his family to fight. He could not let them down, he could not allow Dodoria to kill him like this, strangled there on the floor like he was trash. Not now, not fucking EVER.

With the dogged discipline that had literally saved his life in countless dangerous special ops missions as a Marine, Vegeta forced himself not to panic so he could think. He only had precious seconds before he passed out from the strangulation, and then he would be killed shortly afterwards. He tried to get leverage, but Dodoria was a big bastard and was sitting right on Vegeta's lower back.

That is when Vegeta noticed that Dodoria was lazy, he was literally sitting on his lower back instead of being on his knees. Vegeta noticed Dodoria's feet on either side of him, and without hesitating, he quickly slid one hand over his chest and inside of his jacket where he retrieved and unsheathed his lucky blade. With all his remaining strength, he drove the knife right into Dodoria's ankle, burying it to the hilt.

Dodoria immediately howled in agony and got off Vegeta, abandoning the bat and blissfully relieving the excruciating pressure on Vegeta's throat. Vegeta's head dropped back to the floor as he took in hard and painful breaths. Dodoria was rolling around, continuing his shrieking, giving him precious time to recover. Vegeta took a moment, and then forced himself slowly back up to his hands and knees once more, shaking his head roughly as he did.

"You son of a bitch! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Dodoria screamed, useless as he clutched his ankle. He tried grabbing onto the handle of the blade to pull it out, but only screamed louder. "I'm going to kill you-!"

He was silenced by Vegeta pulling out his handgun from the back of his jeans and firing a shot right into his forehead. Dodoria crumpled back, eyes still open in rage.

Vegeta waited a few seconds, panting heavily, just in case another threat emerged. When nothing happened, he dropped his gun and collapsed onto his back. He was fighting against passing out, his body practically demanding it, but someone might have called this in if the gunshots were heard outside. He allowed himself a few seconds to rest, and then forced himself to sit back up, lest he fall unconscious before he could get the hell out of there. He had to get back to his van and put distance there, and only then would he allow himself to crawl to the back of the van again and pass out. Until then, he had to fight.

It felt like hours to him before he finally managed to get back onto his feet. His body was uncoordinated, his head spinning as blood kept pouring down his face. Vegeta staggered his way into the bathroom, and with shaking hands, turned on the faucet to splash some cold water on his face. He looked up in the mirror and grimaced – that bat had done a number on him. Almost half his face was a bloodied and bruised mess. He briefly touched near his temple, and then winced.

Grunting, he used the walls to help him stagger out of the bathroom and keep his balance, squinting as he forced himself to move. He was going back toward the kitchen, wondering how he was going to manage going down the stairs, when he heard a phone ring.

Vegeta paused at the sound. He then turned his hazy gaze back towards the bedroom, which looked like a damn war zone. He entered, and realized that the ringing was coming from Dodoria. Good thing too – he had forgotten to remove his favorite blade from the asshole's ankle.

Vegeta dropped onto his knees next to the fallen lieutenant. He patted Dodoria's pockets and found the phone, then took it out, squinting at it. The number was blocked. He answered it.

"Dodoria's phone," he growled through heavy breathing, while he yanked his lucky blade free from the ankle.

"Well, you sure are resilient aren't you, Vegeta?"

Vegeta paused, and his pain was momentarily sidelined to his hatred and rage. "Come out from the shadows and find out, Frieza," Vegeta snarled hatefully.

"It didn't have to be this way, dear boy. You just keep bringing more and more pain upon yourself."

"You can't hurt me anymore, fucking son of a bitch," Vegeta seethed. "I am going to KILL you with my fucking bare hands! I don't have anything to lose anymore!"

Frieza chuckled. "Oh, that's where you're dead wrong, Vegeta. You still have something precious to lose, and you will."

Vegeta looked confused for a moment, but he couldn't respond before the call ended. He put the phone in his own pocket, planning to discard it later, and then forced himself to get out of there as he grabbed his weapons. All the while, a feeling of dread began rising through his chest that he couldn't shake.

Meanwhile, on the other side of West City, Goku stepped out of his home, whistling as he headed to the back alley. He was barefoot in a white tank top and loose pajama pants while carrying two stuffed trash bags in one hand. He made his way through his backyard then stepped out into the alley, continuing to whistle as he went over to the trash bins. He frowned, looking down at the bags in his grasp, trying to remember which one Chi-Chi had said was recycling. He ducked down to open one of the bags to take a peek.

As soon as he did, a gunshot went off, a bullet flying and missing him due to him ducking down. Goku whirled around and fell back sitting down, his hand immediately going to his ankle holster under his pajama pants. He pulled out his gun and fired back at what only looked like shadows. The assailants seemed startled by the return fire and began retreating as both sides kept shooting.

Goku winced, feeling two jarring white-hot bullets tearing into him, his mouth almost instantly filling with blood. He fell to his side on the concrete, weakly able to get off one more shot as the assailants ran away, laughing and shouting back at him that Frieza said hello.

After they were gone, Goku dropped his gun as he reached down and gingerly touched his mid-torso. When he pulled his hand back, it was soaked in blood. He barely heard Chi-Chi screaming his name as she ran out of the home in his direction, before the darkness overwhelmed him and the pain was no more.