Disclaimers: Don't own, don't ask, don't sue.

A/N: Hey, a shout out to those that have read this. I'm glad you're liking it. I thought it was going to die, but then I got some killer ideas, so muah. Lots of luffers.

Black Sunrise

Bulma looked at the reflection in the mirror with a narrow gaze. Patting down a few stray hairs that had come undone from the twin buns on the back of her head, she nodded her approval. For some time now, her parents had given up trying to get their daughter to sport more lively colors in replacing the dark ones she had been wearing since the second most important man in her life died.

The old Bulma had died with her boyfriend on that night, and this new dark fragment of her soul was left. But she did open up greatly when she was around her daughter. Maybe knowing that Matt had helped create the most beautiful little child ever, and had left Bulma with something to remember him by. That was when the true Bulma started to show up.

Smoothing down the poof of her just above the knee length skirt, consisting of many layers of black material and held a good few inches away from her body, she straightened her black and crimson striped thigh high socks.

This was the first day of her last year of high school, the day she had been waiting for most of her life. School, she remembered was all about appearances, and in order for her to be strong enough to get through this year alone, she needed to be able to feel strong. Stomping her black and silver knee-high boots, Bulma moved her hands up the sides of the black mesh-like top and dark red tank underneath.

Licking her dark red lips, outlined in black and applying another coat of a thin black liner around her upper lip, everything was set on the table. Bulma was ready to go to school. Flicking the bell that was on her black leather bondage collar, she shut off the bathroom lights and walked towards Rayne's room. She was a year old now. Her life had changed so much in the span of a year and then some.

Opening the door a peek, her head poked into the room and a small smile escaped onto her lips. Rayne was sleeping with her right hand curled up by her mouth while her left clutched to the tail of her stuffed bear. Making sure that her daughter was safe and still sound asleep, Bulma walked out of her room and down the many hallways that filled her house until she reached the kitchen.

Stepping inside, she was glad for once that there was no one in there with her at the moment. Preparing Rayne's meal for the day was something that she liked to do alone. It was her excuse to stay home a little bit longer. This was going to be the first day she was going to be away from her daughter for more than an hour. Rayne was always in her life, but in order for the media not to come questioning, Bulma needed to put up with the pain.

And it wasn't like she was going to leave her daughter. She would be back at 4:30, when the bus dropped her off. Grabbing her black bag from the peg by the fridge, she turned and was about to head out the door when she saw an envelope addressed to her. Taking it down, she opened it up slowly and withdrew a single piece of paper.

Unfolding the note, she gave it a quick scan before letting out a squeal of delight.

Bulma,

Good luck on your first day of school.

Love,
Mom and Dad

Taped to the bottom of the note was a set of car keys. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she slowly started to walk towards the door that was connected to the garage and threw it open. Inside were classic cars, imported cars, any kind of car her farther wanted to have. Sitting in the middle of them all was a black car with a red ribbon on top, and a license plate that read: BBY BLU

Bulma slowly walked over to it and let out a long, low whistle. She was standing in front of her second car, and what a car. Her right hand snaked out and lightly ran over the hood of the car. "They bought me an Audi TT 3.2. Holy shoes."

The car was pure black, windows were tinted and as Bulma walked around the car, she whistled again. This car had everything. Unlocking the driver side door, she slid into her new car and closed it. Plugging the key into the ignition, Bulma hit the button to open one of the many garage doors and gently eased her foot onto the gas.

It had been a while since she had driven anywhere, but it was like riding a bike. You never forgot. Her father knew his daughter perfectly. The leather seats were a dark gray with black piping running down the sides, and 'Blue' was written on the headrests in black. She was going to have to tear the car apart and find out what it all had, but at this point in time, she had 40 minutes until classes started, and she still needed to register.

The drive to school didn't take long, and the tension she felt in her stomach only doubled as she approached the large building. Students and teachers milled around the front of the school, not wanting to step foot inside the school for fear of the year never ending. Pulling into an empty parking space, Bulma sat against the seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

There wasn't any time to waste. Why should she be afraid of school? She wasn't. Stepping lightly out of the sleek black car, she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and began to walk into the school. People stopped to stare at her, few giving smiles while most of them were glaring at her. Stomping up the front steps, she threw the door open and walked inside.

Following the signs for the office, she began to pull out her wallet, knowing full well that they would need to see some form of identification. Bulma leaned against the counter at the office. "Hello." A woman said from behind her desk. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to start school."

"Registration was in the spring. You're going to have to wait until then to start here."

"My parents called in and all ready talked to someone."

"What's your name?"

"Bulma Briefs."

The woman jumped up and quickly walked over to her. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!" She muttered nervously. "Here, I need to see some picture identification, and then I'll give you your class schedule."

"I need to get a parking sticker."

"All right." She pulled out a piece of paper from under the counter and began to fill in a few of the blanks. "You're going to have to give me the rest of the information. License plate number?"

"B B Y B L U."

"Interesting. Year and make of the car?"

"2005 Audi TT. Black."

"Oh. Well, you've got yourself a nice car then."

"I know. Gift from my parents. But listen, I need to hurry up here. I've got to make it to my first class, and in order to do that, I've got to find my first class."

The woman nodded and handed over a slip of paper. "Just ask any of the students. They'll help you."

"Thanks."

Bulma looked at the paper in her hand and then sighed, knowing full well that there were still a few minutes left to get to her classroom. Attached to the class paper, she found her parking permit and muttered. Why did they insist that students carry around some stupid sticker on the windshield of their cars?

She'd put it on after school. Let's see, I've got math 12 in 102... where's 102? Oh...right here... Shaking her head, she chewed on her bottom lip for a quick moment before opening the door and walking in. No one else was there, which was good. Setting down her bag on one of the desks in back row, she grabbed the parking sticker and made her way back down the hall and outside.

"What a freak!" People whispered as she passed them. Bulma didn't care. "Stupid slut. Wonder where she came from."

Clenching her hands into fists, she continued to walk to her car. After unlocking it, she placed the silver sticker along the dashboard and was about the shut the door when she bumped into someone. "Watch it." A voice growled from behind her.

"Hey, fuck you too asshole. You were the one that walked too close to me." She lifted her head and turned around, slamming her drivers' door. She looked up at one of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen before. Black eyes, she wondered if they were natural, black hair that seemed to sweep upwards, and muscles like you couldn't believe.

"Fuck you bitch. You're new here, I'm not. Watch your fucking mouth if you don't want to get taken out on your first day of school."

"Bite me you ignorant freak." Bulma muttered as she turned to face her car. "Voice Activate: Alarm." The car beeped twice and Bulma nodded her head. Bending down to check her appearance in the tinted window, she caught sight of the guy she had run into. He was talking to a group of women, obviously enjoying himself. Two other guys showed up and Bulma growled.

She didn't need to be popular. She just needed to get through this school year. She missed her daughter. Flicking herself once on the forehead, Bulma shook away all thoughts as she jogged back into the school. Just because she looked like a bitch, and acted like a bitch, didn't mean that she was going to be late for first class.

Room 102 had started to fill up rather quickly, and she noticed a few of the people in her class were part of the group that that guy was talking too. Her black eyes fell upon her bag that had been moved up a row. Clenching her fists once more, she walked towards the person now sitting in her seat. He was tall, with black hair that seemed to flare outwards. Laughter was heard as she approached him and placed both hands, palms down, onto his desk.

"Listen you little shit. Either you get the fuck out of my desk, or I plant my foot up your ass right now."

The people around her stopped talking. The guy turned his attention to the black haired Bulma and gave her a big grin. "Aw, I was just fooling with you there little lady! The name's Goku."

"Like I care. Up, out, now."

Bulma watched as Goku removed himself from her seat. Throwing her bag down and under her desk, she slid into the pre-warmed seat while the guy sat in front of her. Everyone around her was looking at her, and now she was starting to get annoyed. "If you guys don't fucking stop looking at me, I'm going to make sure that doctors will have to surgically remove my boots from up each of your asses."

People chuckled, but stopped staring while the teacher walked into the class. He was a short, stocky man with a balding head and thick glasses. "Well class, first day of school. Excited?"

"Oh yeah, just right fucking excited. Get to the point." A girl said from Bulma's right. Looking out from the corner of her eye, Bulma noticed a blade haired girl with blue eyes and milky skin.

"18, that will be enough. I don't want to have to kick you out on your first day of school."

"Bite me Patterson."

"Office."

"Make me!"

"NOW!"

Bulma giggled as 18 slid from her desk and casually walked to the front of the classroom and rubbed Mr. Patterson on the head. Turning around, she blew a kiss to the rest of the class and slammed shut the door. Laughter broke out and was instantly silenced.

"We've got a new student in our classroom this year."

"Shit." Bulma muttered under her breath, sliding down.

"If there is a Ms. Briefs in the room, could you please come up here?"

She didn't move. People started to look around for the new student. A hand reached out and touched her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We look mean, but we won't bite." A girl giggled from her left. Bulma growled at the long black haired girl with dark purple bangs.

"Ms. Briefs."

Bulma stood up and crossed her arms. "What the hell do you want? Want me to stand up in front of the class and tell you all why I'm here, and how long I've been here for, and why I've come to this school?"

"Actually, yes."

She stalked to the front of the class, students gasping and pointing at her visible tattoos. "Well, I'm not going to make this fucking easy. Some idiot ask me a question. I'll answer it."

The teacher rubbed his eyes. He had two loud mouthed students this year, he didn't need another one. A large hand reached up into the air and Bulma pointed at it. "What?"

"Why the hell are you such an ugly bitch?"

"Listen here fuck-face, it's not my fault you were born with the wrong genes to be good looking."

Another hand shot up into the air. "How long have you lived here for?"

"7 months."

"Where did you come from?"

"Toronto."

"Where's that?"

"Canada."

"Where's that?"

"North America. You know the country above the U.S of A? There."

"Oh! Then you're not part of the idiots."

"No, I'm not."

"How old are you?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Just a simple one."

"I'm not answering."

Mr. Patterson shook his head and chuckled, watching the black haired, black-eyed girl answer questions and throw rude comments. If he hadn't known her last name, he could have sworn she was related to Vegeta. Her demeanor was the same, and her temper was just as short.

"Please keep all questions relevant."

Hands started to fly up into the air with one pointless question right after another. Bulma was getting annoyed. She hated the fact that she was up there, alone, answering stupid questions.

"Hey?"

Bulma pointed to a man with short black hair and a scar on his cheek. "What?"

"I've got a question for you."

She rolled her eyes. "I swear to god, if it's pointless, don't even bother. You people are a bunch of idiots."

"Are you free tonight?"

"What!? Fuck you! I'm not going out with a scumbag like you! Don't even think about it. Why would I want to waste my time with some dirty pig like yourself?" She growled, eyes narrowing.

Guys laughed while girls gasped in amazement. No one had ever turned down Yamcha.

"Ouch!" Came a laughing voice from the back. "She got you good Yamcha!"

"Shut up Goku..." Yamcha growled.

Mr. Patterson stood up and rubbed his weary eyes. It was only first class, and all ready he was tired. "Ms. Briefs. Perhaps you could tell us something about yourself?"

"Like what? Want me to tell you how I was torn away from my home only to move into this piss-pot city, or how I was forced to sit here for more than a few minutes being subjected to useless questions?"

"No, tell us what you like to do for fun. What are your hobbies?"

That took Bulma back, making her blink. "My hobbies?" Did she want these people to know that she was famous in her own right? "I like to piss people off, go shopping, go to concerts, see movies, swim, draw and...well, piss off more people."

"And what kind of things do you like to draw?"

Bulma placed her hands on her hips and turned towards the teacher. "Listen, I put up with theses stupid fucking questions for long enough. If you want to know so much, why the hell don't you just fucking look it up on my file? I'm sure it'll tell you everything there is to know about me on them. And as for this class, you can shove it up your fucking ass. I'm sure you wouldn't know how to teach a proper class if your life depended on it. Fucking dykes."

She stomped to her desk and jerked out her black bag from underneath it. "I suppose you're going to send me to the office but I'll spare you the wasted breath. And yes, I know there's homework. You'll be surprised. I don't fucking need this class for anything. I'll do my work, hand it in, and then leave." She walked to the door. "Fuck you all, peace, love and I'm out."

Laughter followed her through the hallways. She didn't know why, but tears started to fall from her eyes. She was really missing her old school, her friends, her old life, and mostly, she missed Rayne. Pulling out her cell-phone from inside her bag, she turned it on. "Home."

It dialed her new home phone number and after two rings, Bunny picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi mom. Just wanted to call and check up on Rayne."

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Why, I'm smarter then the teacher in there. I know what I've got to do. Don't worry about it. How's Rayne?"

"She's fine. Want me to send you a picture to carry around with you? You sound frazzled."

"I am frazzled mom. I don't know what to do. These people are so different. I want to see Cara... I want to go home. I want to go back to my old school."

"I know, just give it some time. You've only been here for a few months dear. You'll make friends. Anyway, I'll let you go, and I'll take a picture of the little darling for you. Did you know that she's starting to crawl?"

Bulma closed her eyes and leaned her head back against a locker. "I know. She's been doing it since last week. Just hurry up and send me a picture. I need to see her." Bulma ended the call and walked outside. Tears were starting to prick at her eyes. She wasn't going to allow herself to cry. Reaching inside her bag once more, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Walking to her car, she opened it up and sat inside.

She was pissed. School was just a waste of time for her, so why did she even bother going? To make friends. She told herself. But she couldn't make friends. She couldn't let them know her secret. She couldn't let them find out who, and what she's hiding from. Turning her car on, Bulma turned on her stereo. After plugging in a CD, she cranked up the volume loud enough to drown out her own thoughts and lit her cigarette. She sat on the drivers' seat with the door open and windows down, as she inhaled the first drag off of the 'cancer-stick'.

Letting out the bluish gray smoke slowly, her lips began to move silently to the music on her stereo. She loved rap music, and more so, she loved Ludacris. The current song she was listening too was titled 'Splash Waterfall'. Her foot started to tap in time with the bass beats.

Her phone shook.

Holding the cigarette in one hand, she pulled out her phone and looked at it. Her mother had sent her the picture like she said she would. Opening up her phone, she looked at the screen and instantly broke out into smiles. Rayne was crawling on the floor dressed in a yellow t-shirt and a pair of matching shorts. Bulma had no clue how her mother got Rayne to look into the lens on the phone, but she was glad. Her daughter was smiling, with a hand reaching out towards the camera, eyes wide with joy.

She didn't hear, or see the person standing in front of her and as she lifted her hand to take another drag, she almost dropped her phone. There standing in front of her was the guy that she had bickered with just that morning. He was trying to speak with her, but she couldn't hear him, and by the look on his face, he was annoyed. Well, let's just piss him off even more. She smirked and turned the volume up even louder. She was rewarded as she watched the guy growl and sneer in her direction. He kicked her boot, and Bulma continued to inhale the toxic, yet nerve calming smoke into her lungs.

Her boot was kicked again as she exhaled, and again as she inhaled. Flicking the finished cigarette out of her car, she leaned down and turned off the music. "What the fuck do you want?" Bulma hissed.

"For you to turn off that useless shit you call music."

"Fuck you asshole. I'm sitting in my car, listening to my music. I didn't ask for your fucking opinion. If I wanted it, I'd have given it to you."

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Whore."

"Idiotic, brain-dead, small dicked donkey lover."

"Hey! Fuck you!"

"Fuck me? Fuck you!" Bulma screamed and turned her music back on. The senior turned around and stomped off, and she was alone again.