Prompt: Black Knight / White Knight
Chapter Three: A Queen's Ransom
Warning: Some violence ahead.
With the exception of Vegeta and his Bas aide, the men riding the battle-cruiser spent most of the month-long journey to Earth in cryo-sleep. Even enroute to another planet, the prince was still the leader of the Planet Trade Organization. He didn't have the luxury of leaving the responsibility in someone else's hands and he sure as hell didn't trust King Cold.
Once the large ship's estimate time of arrival had whittled down to a few hours wait, the battle-cruiser's stasis pods roused the warriors slumbering within. The crew took up their stations and after finalizing yet another arrangement between planets under his control, Vegeta settled in the captain's chair. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the armrest in impatience, folding his arms across his chest instead now that he could see Earth on the monitor.
The sight of the blue planet made his tail wind tighter around his waist as anger at the woman's treachery bubbled up.
The Saiyan initially listened to Jeice's mission report with calculated calm. He didn't give it much thought at first how the Ginyu Force found Earth wasn't completely devoid of life. The woman did flee with the entire population of planet Namek. But as the Brench's report progressed and the orange-skinned man further detailed the opponents they faced off against, Vegeta began to silently seethe. His grip on the throne of petrified bone tightened with each passing second until the armrests threatened to crumble beneath his fingers.
That bitch. That scheming, lying, traitorous bitch! He fumed. How dare she lie about the Dragon Balls being lost!
It wasn't having his wish stolen that enraged Vegeta. Truth be told he wasn't certain whether he wanted immortality any more but that wasn't the point. It was the principle of the thing. He'd sworn on his honor as the Prince of all Saiyans that he would leave her world be if she gave him the wish from Earth's Dragon Balls.
True, he had gone back on his word once or twice before but she couldn't have known that. How dare she doubt him.
There could have been a logical explanation behind her deception but Vegeta wasn't feeling generous enough to consider them. Especially when he'd gone through all this to find her just so he could give the woman her purged home-world. That he had done so only because he wanted to absolve himself of his debt to the woman didn't make the gesture any less sincere (or troublesome.)
The woman had him at her mercy after Zarbon beat him to within an inch of his life. She could have made good with her threat of using her dangerous little weapon on him, either outright killing him the way she had the blue officer or rendering Vegeta's Ki unusable.
Instead, the Earthling had dragged his ass to a regeneration tank and had him healed. And though he was loath to admit it, the resulting surge in his strength had given him enough power to openly challenge Frieza. Otherwise, he would have fled from planet Namek and could still well be on the run, trying to stay below the radar, and hiding from the Tsirunian. He wouldn't have realized his destiny of becoming a Super Saiyan nor would he be ruling the Planet Trade Organization.
The very thought of owing her his life, his freedom from the lizard tyrant, and his honor did not sit well with him.
Eventually, Jeice's report wound down and with tremendous self-control the Saiyan reigned in his desire to shoot the messenger. He dismissed the two remaining members of the Ginyu Force, declaring he'll deal with them once he returned from Earth. And by deal with he meant blow up the frozen, desolate planet along with King Cold and the rest of Frieza's wretched race.
Vegeta made his way to the docking bay and found Jerold waiting for him.
The lanky alien was typing something in his datapad while he spoke. "Lord Vegeta, the battle-cruiser is being refueled and detailed, and supplies are being loaded as we speak. Your strongest Soldiers have been informed to gear up and be onboard within the hour -err," Jerold saw the dangerous look in Vegeta's eyes and quickly amended "Thirty minutes."
"Why would I bother waiting for a massive ship when I can leave immediately in a one-man fighter pod?" Sometimes, Vegeta wondered why he'd taken on the Bas as his aide. The lanky alien's power level, though substantial when compared to the average Soldier, barely reached that of Zarbon's in his pretty form.
"With all due respect, Lord Vegeta, you're the leader of the PTO. Your position requires a certain amount of gravitas. A fighter pod is hardly befitting someone of your status," Jerold explained. "Also, the video-screens on those things are deplorable and the automated transcript program keeps dying mid-operation. I'll have to manually take down the minutes of your audiences for the sake of efficiency."
Ah, yes, now Vegeta remembered. No power in this universe would ever make managing documentation the least bit engaging for the Saiyan. The Bas' true calling appeared to be handling paperwork and navigating through the twists and turns of bureaucratic hell. True, Vegeta still read through all the reports to ensure he wasn't being played for a fool, but Jerold was proving himself a dependable asset.
Though Vegeta wouldn't quite go so far as to think the Bas was trustworthy. Because no one was truly trustworthy.
Especially not the woman, Vegeta groused, bringing his thoughts full circle. And so he here was, seated in the captain's chair of the battle-cruiser, flying closer to the blue world the woman called home. He let out a slow measure of air to calm himself down and eased his grip on the armrests.
"We will be making planet-fall in a few moments. Brace yourselves for impact," the humanoid navigator said as he initiated the landing sequence. The shields took the brunt of the heat from entry while rockets emerged and activated to slow their descent and cushion their landing. The ship's claw-like legs extended, the tips digging and anchoring them onto the rocky ground.
Even before the ship's sensors detected an approaching cluster of life-signs, Vegeta had already risen from his seat and was making his way to the exit. Jerold and his men were hot on his heels, the hum of blasters charging and the clatter of scouters being activated echoing through the ship's corridor.
The Saiyan paid his men no mind. He focused instead on the handful of powerful beings heading fast towards his location. Because amid the high levels, he detected the familiar tiny, insignificant Ki-signature of the woman.
For the past two months, Bulma worked round the clock. With additional material she salvaged from the alien invaders' pods, her project was progressing much quicker. She hadn't finished stress testing the shields and the limits of the cloaking features, what with her friends far too busy with their training. And she hadn't worked out all the bugs in the energy conversion or conservation, the power cells still drained out faster than she liked. But the heiress couldn't help but take pride in the finished device and how it looked nothing like the weapon it was supposed to be.
In its standby mode, Bulma might simply be trying to revive the trend of chunky jewelry. But once activated? The blue-haired genius would be lying if she said she wasn't even the tiniest bit excited to see it in action. Bulma also made sure there would be a safety measure in case said device fell into the wrong hands because paranoia was a hard thing to shake off. Or rather that had been next on the agenda. Because right now, with her surveillance satellite system alerting her to the approach of a particularly large spacecraft, the next thing on her agenda was to put the device to a field test. And that involved dealing with an undoubtedly angry Saiyan who may or may not vaporize her on sight.
Talk about working under pressure.
When the computer finished calculating the possible landing sites, Bulma got into an air-car and drove off at full throttle before any of the Z Fighters realized what she was up to. It didn't take long until Yamcha was flying right alongside her vehicle, demanding to know if she was crazy and what the fuck she thought she was doing. She ignored him, secure with the knowledge that if he tried anything he risked crashing her air-car. When the shouts of concern went into stereo-mode Bulma realized Goku and Gohan had caught up with her.
Maybe it was just pettiness on her part but she waved at them and pretended she couldn't hear them over the roar of her vehicle's engines or through the domed plexiglass of her windshield. But then Piccolo did that sneaky Namekian telepathic talk (probably at Kami's insistence) and she was forced to acknowledge their demands.
Acknowledge not agree with because they've got to be delusional if they thought she trusted them not to fuck up this encounter like the last one.
Let me try settling this diplomatically first, she said to Piccolo.
You must have a death-wish, the Namekian snorted but he was audibly amused.
Pot calling the kettle black, she said in singsong.
Do as you wish, human. I care not for your life. I only do this to have Kami cease his badgering.
You're a real charmer, Piccolo. I can totally see why ChiChi speaks of you the way she does, the blue-haired woman mentally snickered before suddenly landing her air-car. She hadn't even turned off the engine when she heard Goku knocking against the wing and his muffled order of "Bulma, go back to Capsule Corp."
She sighed and climbed of her vehicle, encapsulating it and staying put in defiance of her oldest friend's wish. "I'm going to have to say no to that, Goku."
"But Miss Bulma, it's not safe here," said Gohan, ever polite even in the face of danger, which at this moment was the heiress being told to do something she clearly didn't want to do.
"This coming from the seven-year-old kid." Bulma blatantly ignored Yamcha pointing out how said seven-year-old was a demi-Saiyan and was several thousand times stronger than her. She placed her hands on her hips, and her tone sharpened to a drill sergeant's bark, "Listen up, the only reason Vegeta is coming here is for his wish on the Dragon Balls. And because I promised him that he could have it, I have to hold my end of the bargain."
"But he can't have his wish-"
"Yes, I'm very aware of that, Krillin. But it's my responsibility to break the news to him. And besides, none of us would be in this mess if a certain someone," she gave Goku a withering look, "Hadn't let those space clowns go back to tell Vegeta where Earth is." Her blue eyes were still fixed on the Earth-raised Saiyan when she continued, "Just like you asked us all to trust you, I now ask you to put your trust me, Goku."
Goku didn't back down from her glare but he looked like he was having an argument with himself. In the end, he nodded, "Alright, but at the first sign things get too dangerous, Yamcha?"
"You know I'll do everything I can to protect her," the scarred fighter solemnly said.
Somehow, Bulma couldn't bring herself to meet her ex-boyfriend's eyes when she agreed to Goku's terms.
Then the battle-cruiser landed a little over a mile away and her friends promptly took to the sky, leaving her behind.
Because of course, she thought with a roll of her eyes. For Kami's sake, did they really think she wasn't going to chase after them?
Bulma eventually caught up with the rest of the Z Fighters, not that she needed to keep pace with them. They were headed for the same place and Vegeta wasn't even trying to hide his arrival. She would have bitched at her friends for trying to ditch her except the battle-cruiser's doors were opening and the silhouette with familiar upswept hair both commanded her attention and stole her breath away.
The sound of numerous footsteps echoed behind him as several bipedal aliens armed to the teeth with blasters and hand-cannons marched up behind the Saiyan. They kept their distance from their leader as he strode forward, breaking away from the squadron while they stood at attention by the platform.
Vegeta wasn't trying to downplay his rage in the least and from within her periphery, Bulma could see Chiatozu, Krillin, and Yamcha trembling in fear. Maybe if she could sense Ki she would be scared out of her mind as well, shaking in her boots at his approach or the deadly promise in his glower.
Nah. She probably wouldn't back down even then. She'd faced him down before. She sure as hell wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower from him again. Once was enough. Still, her heart began to jackhammer against her chest when the Saiyan's eyes locked with hers.
"And what brings you to Earth, Vegeta?" Bulma greeted, channeling her mother of all people because he probably wouldn't be expecting that.
He studied her with deep suspicion but stalked up to her with casual menace, growling in that low baritone of his, "You know what I'm here for, woman."
"You're here for your wish," Bulma said, sounding as flippant as ever and refraining from exposing too much detail about the mystical spheres in case the aliens Vegeta brought with him had sensitive hearing. She propped a hand against her hip and continued, "Well, funny thing is, you can't have-"
His fingers gripped the front of her jacket and had her dangling inches from the ground before she could take another breath.
"Wrong answer," Vegeta said. The threat edging each syllable was familiar, nostalgic even. The heat pooling in his fist, however, was new.
All around Bulma was the high-pitched whine of gathering energy. Some were in open palms and fingertips, Ki concentrating into spheres or disks or the sparks preceding a beam ready to let loose. Some were in muzzles and power packs, in tiny engines waiting to fuel hand-mounted cannons, and blasters about to spew their charge all but for the pull of their trigger.
Kami, it's like being in the weirdest standoff of the century. The protective display from her friends would have been sweeter if the blue-haired genius could bring herself to factor out their warrior's pride from their gesture.
Bulma drew a deep breath and ordered, "Everyone, back the fuck down!" Her voice carried in the wind, the force of her command cowing most of her friends and even some of Vegeta's men into obeying.
Reluctantly, the Z Fighters did as she commanded, their energy withdrawing back within their bodies. The defenders of Earth may not have their Ki attacks at the ready, but they remained in their fighting stance and they kept their focus fixed on the Saiyan and what his next move would be.
When Vegeta signaled for his men to stand down, the armored aliens kept their guard up, their wary gazes shifting from the humans to their leader.
Unperturbed with being held aloft, Bulma fixed hard eyes on the Saiyan. "Vegeta, maybe you should let me finish my sentences for once instead of immediately flying off the handle! Kami, it's like we're still on the ship to planet Namek."
"Be grateful we aren't, woman, because I would have killed you by now."
"Oh for-" she grit her teeth and forced down an indignant groan, "I was going to say you can't have your wish right now. Your stupid dance troupe messed up a huge chunk of my city and killed a lot of people so we had to fix that first. Why don't you fly back off into space and come back in a year? Everything should be ready by then."
"What sort of fool do you take me for? How can I be certain you're telling me the truth this time?"
"As certain as I can be that you would have kept your promise," she shot back. "Look, we didn't know how much time we had before you got here. For all we knew the round trip from here to whatever planet you were using as a base would take over a year. No sense in letting a wish go to waste."
He said nothing. Did nothing. The Saiyan simply stood there, hand still gripping Bulma by the front of her jacket but his fingers didn't so much as twitch to snap her neck. Bulma took this as a positive sign.
"And should I take my leave, what guarantee do I have that you won't try to escape during my absence?"
Blue eyes widened in surprise before Bulma began to laugh, the heel of her hand pressing against her eyes. The growl from Vegeta indicated that this was not the reaction he was expecting. Truthfully, Bulma wasn't sure what the hell was so funny either. She chalked it up to nerves, stress, the impending doom of her planet, or hell her own inevitable demise.
"This planet is my home. I did not spend a year and a half putting up with Zarbon or his Soldiers or your insufferable attitude only to up and ditch Earth at the first sign of danger. And besides, maybe if you haven't noticed we're not exactly a space-faring race." Her fingers glided from forehead to scalp, combing back her aqua bangs, ensuring the Saiyan an unobstructed view of the amusement and exasperation in her eyes as she asked, "Where the hell else do you think we can go?"
She held her breath as Vegeta seemed to consider her words, and she would have missed the confusion that flickered across his hard features had she not been studying him so intently.
"Lord Vegeta," a quiet voice piped up from behind Vegeta and Bulma could see a lanky, four-eyed alien had braved the distance between ship and Saiyan.
"Not now, Jerold," Vegeta warned.
"I'm afraid it's rather urgent," he said, a hand held up to his scouter. "The scanners detected another battle-cruiser headed for our position. The navigator has made several attempts to make contact but they've all been ignored."
Bulma's heartbeat raced, liking neither what the alien said nor how he sounded worried.
But Vegeta didn't seem too concerned. In fact, the corners of his mouth were quirked in a fang-bared grin as an identical battle-cruiser landed within sight of the ship. And when the ship's occupants emerged, he threw his head back in laughter.
All around him, Vegeta could feel the Ki of his men bottom out in dread while those of Earth's warriors spiked in terror. It wasn't because of the battalion of underlings that marched in synchronized cadence towards them, even the weakest of the human fighters would have no trouble dealing with the mercenaries.
The two figures in the lead however.
He let go of the woman and turned his back to her as if she was inconsequential. His tail unwound from his waist and shoved her back, sending her stumbling, uncaring of her indignant squawk for being dismissed so easily. Almost immediately Vegeta flew off to meet King Cold and the other purple Tsirunian strolling ahead of the battalion.
"I wondered when you'd make another attempt at my life, old lizard," Vegeta said with the nonchalance of small talk while his men and the Earthling warriors began to arrive.
"Really, Vegeta, of all the places in the universe you could have chosen to die on you pick this dump," Cold sighed in theatrical disappointment before turning his attention to the handful of aliens serving under the Saiyan. "I'll triple whatever it is Vegeta is paying you to work for me instead. Any takers?"
Not a single man took up Cold on his offer.
"Wow, you mean you're all loyal to Vegeta?" the innocent awe in Kakkarot's voice nearly made everyone cringe in second-hand embarrassment.
"Goku, there's a distinct difference between loyalty and fear," the Namekian said.
"Quite," Cold agreed.
"Now that we've established that," Vegeta said and pointed his palm at Cold's battalion. "Here's my counter offer." It was one they couldn't refuse. Or survive.
Before the dust settled, a bored voice said, "See, father, this is why I don't bother to bring cannon fodder."
"I suppose your little task force is all you need, Cooler?" Cold laughed.
As if on cue, music began to play from the battle-cruiser's speakers, eliciting a groan of disbelief from some of the Earthlings. While Cooler's special task force began their own choreography of introductions, stopping and restarting thanks in part to the begrudging additions of Jeice and Guldo, Vegeta suddenly realized Kakkarot was beside him.
"Are you here to destroy Earth?" the Earth-raised Saiyan asked.
"And what would you do if I were?" The prince gave him a cold smile.
"I'd stop you." No hesitation, no doubt.
Vegeta couldn't help himself. He laughed.
The sound drew the attention of the Tsirunians. "What's this? Planning to join forces against me and my father?"
The Saiyan prince had nothing to prove to Frieza's kin and intended to ignore the taunt until an amusing thought occurred to him. He turned to Kakkarot, "Tell you what, as one Saiyan to another, I'll consider sparing Earth if you can put Cooler in his place."
"Oh as that all?" It was Kakkarot's turn to laugh, "I was already planning on beating him anyway."
Before Vegeta could react to the third-class' audacity, the Namekian launched a beam at Cooler's still dancing armored squad, instantly felling Jeice and signaling the rest of Earth's fighters to attack.
Vegeta's men remained at attention, waiting for their master's command to join in the fray. No order came, much to the aliens' relief especially as they watched the Earthlings make short work of Cooler's and formerly Frieza's elite warriors.
The Saiyan only observed with mild interest the way the former weaklings had gotten... less weak.
"What was it you were saying, son?" Cold smirked unkindly at his eldest child as the bodies of the special task force dropped to the ground.
"Oh just that the time for talking is over," the younger Tsirunian growled and lunged forward, incapacitating the Earthlings with the smallest of strikes. But when Cooler prepared to plunge his hand into the triclops' heart, Kakkarot had grabbed him by the wrist.
"Hey, Vegeta!" the third-class called out, "Are you really going to leave Earth alone if I beat this guy?"
"Of course."
An enormous surge of Ki began flowing around Kakkarot. In the blink of an eye, Cooler was sent careening into a rock formation several miles away. The Tsirunian was quick to retaliate, and it seemed that Cooler and Kakkarot were evenly matched, trading blow per blow at blinding speed.
Vegeta felt his fists clench at the power, heard his blood sing for a worthy battle, and almost, almost joined in to show those two what true strength was. It wasn't until he caught haggard breathing did he finally notice that the woman was at his side, doubled over and panting for breath.
"W-what. What the fuck. Did you. Tell Goku?" she demanded in between gasps.
"A reminder of what Saiyans are," he said, eyes still trained on the exchange of strikes and near-hits. Then he felt it, Cooler losing his cool at having some no-name fighter from some insignificant planet manage to keep up with him. The rage on the Tsirunian's face reminded Vegeta of his own when Kakkarot first managed to draw his royal blood.
There were cheers from some of the Earthling warriors, naturally from the half-breed whelp and the diminutive bald fighter. The Namekian, already on his knees, simply watched with begrudging respect while the others were just regaining consciousness.
But Vegeta knew the fight wouldn't last for much longer. Cooler was going to transform and when he does, it would be the end of Kakkarot. The prince was half right. When Cooler did transform and proceed to beat the buffoon to within an inch of his life, the Tsirunian withheld the killing blow. And it was obvious from the menacing glow in those red eyes that it was not done out of mercy. Cooler raised one arm towards the sky, energy beginning to gather above his palm. The alien turned his attention to Vegeta, "I was hoping to save this form as a surprise for when I killed you. But no matter, I will still get my revenge for the death of my little brother."
"Such a strong family bond," Vegeta scoffed, "Is that why your father offered to abdicate his throne to me instead of you?"
"Oh that was all part of the plan," Cold smoothly said. "It makes for a much better space opera, don't you think? The rightful heir that is Cooler returning home to planet Tsiru, willing to put his life on the line in order to challenge and slay the Simian usurper in a battle to the death. And naturally, Cooler will win."
"Whoever wrote that tired old plot should be fired. They got the ending wrong," the woman snorted, neither impressed nor frightened.
Cold looked taken aback, "I beg your pardon? I came up with that tired old plot," he growled low. "And while I admit we may have gone off script, the ending will still have Cooler killing Vegeta."
"Along with the rest of the pests on this miserable planet," Cooler graciously declared. "I'm sure this technique is quite familiar to you, Saiyan princeling. After all, this was what my brother used to destroy your home-world."
Vegeta had been expecting the threat and the taunt. It was the only reason why he hadn't immediately transformed into a Super Saiyan. Cooler and Cold would be given enough rope until they hanged themselves with it before he would act. He merely smiled in response. It was a mirthless, wicked smile, one that promised pain everlasting or at least for an unnecessarily long time.
All around him, he felt the Ki signatures of Earth's defenders flare in anger, in fear, in disbelief as the massive sphere that Cooler held aloft continued to grow. He felt the woman's tiny spark of outrage and...
The Saiyan sharply turned to the side. Dark eyes grew wide when he realized she'd disappeared and he couldn't sense her Ki. Had Cold or Cooler done anything to cause her disappearance? Vegeta didn't think it likely, he hadn't seen or heard them move but the Earthlings did not have his keen senses.
"B-Bulma!" the scarred fighter gasped.
Vegeta could feel Kakkarot's feeble energy suddenly skyrocket in rage at the prospect of her death. He saw the burning aura around the third-class flicker almost... almost golden! Until he heard an irate sigh followed by a familiar high-pitched hum.
A thin bolt of energy shot out at Cooler who laughed at the tiny beam. With contemptuous ease, one arm swung to backhand it away. Except the mere touch had the Tsirunian's ball of planetary destruction dissipating and Cooler falling to the ground in violent spasms.
The woman seemingly blinked back into existence. She stood over the retching Tsirunian, one arm encased in wires and glowing orbs, and a thin trail of smoke wafted from her fingertip. There was no grand speech of revenge from her lips, no wild, beautifully manic grin that sang of carnage and feral brutality adorning her face.
In fact she looked annoyed more than anything. As if she was in the middle of some chore rather than having successfully rendered one of the most feared warlords of the universe helpless. She fired a second beam, bursting Cooler from the inside out, sending body parts scattering every which way, and showering purple blood on everyone within a five foot radius.
"I told you, didn't I? You got the ending wrong," she said with the same flippant ease she had used to welcome Vegeta. When she turned to face Cold she was all radiant smiles and gracious poise, Cooler's blood a beautiful war paint on her pale skin.
The old lizard was stunned. But Cold did not maintain control of an empire that spanned galaxies if he wasn't quick on his feet. "That was splendid, my dear. Absolutely inspiring! I never once thought an Earther-"
"Earthling," she corrected.
"-An Earthling was capable of slaughtering my eldest son," he continued, matching the woman's smile with one of his own. Cold strolled forward, a hand outstretched towards her, "I may not look it, but I've always wanted a daughter."
There was a flicker of light at the very ends of Cold's fingers. But the bone-breaking grip Vegeta held the old lizard's wrist with quickly snuffed that out.
"You overstep your bounds, old one. She's not yours to threaten. She's mine," the Saiyan growled so low even the Tsirunian was hard pressed to hear.
Cold quickly found it difficult to respond without a head.
Bulma couldn't believe it. Oh whom was she kidding? She totally could believe that when the second battle-cruiser landed all her friends would up and ditch her to fly off after Vegeta. Yeah, yeah they were worried about her safety and didn't want her to be in danger blah blah blah but Kami damn it! The Saiyan hadn't given her his word yet and she wasn't going to leave anything to chance this time around.
It should just be a short flight in her air-car but even at this distance she could tell traveling by vehicle was out of the question. The battalion of aliens would have no problem shooting her down, which meant she was going to have to go on foot.
"Memo to self, after building a fail-safe device for this baby, build something that can mimic Ki-powered flight," she muttered.
Before she got to the second landing site, there had been one large explosion, the Z Fighters had done the world of song and dance a huge favor, and Goku was talking to Vegeta. Then the rest of the Z Fighters started dropping like flies and Goku was forced to save them from the purple guy.
The name Cooler bubbled up to the surface and Bulma tried not to grimace that she was accessing things from the Saiyan's memories again.
She picked up the pace when her oldest friend and Cooler suddenly disappeared. Okay, they didn't exactly disappear because she could hear the telltale sounds of two people fighting, and the landscape was getting a makeover, making it clear that her eyes just couldn't keep up.
Demanding an answer from Vegeta about what the two Saiyans had been talking about proved useless. And her pride wasn't going to let her ask him what the hell was going on and who was winning. She found the answer to that question when Goku's badly battered body appeared on the ground with a dull thud.
Bulma couldn't believe it. She'd never seen Goku lose before. Yes, she knew Vegeta had not only beaten but also killed her oldest friend nearly two years ago. But it was one thing to objectively know something and it was entirely another to see it happen in front of you. Her heartbeat sounded painfully loud in her ears as the reptilian aliens spoke about families and revenge and did that big one just say space opera? The destruction of her world, the death of her friends, all done for the sake of fucking melodrama?
She wasn't impressed and said as much. But talk is cheap, actions spoke louder than words, and while she was on the subject of tired clichés, she was going to put her money where her mouth is. The giant ball of death was growing far too big for Bulma's liking and with a twist on the thick metal bracelet on her wrist, the cloaking mechanism of her weapon activated. The wires snaked out and around her arm, locking onto her limb while she set the power level to about a third.
The heiress wasn't thinking of anything but getting to Cooler as close and as quickly as possible. It wouldn't matter if they were wearing scouters or could sense Ki, her approach should be undetected because of her weapon. And hell, even if she wasn't she was heavily banking on the aliens' superiority complex over inferior species and would underestimate her.
She took aim and fired the Ki-nullifying bolt. Within her cocoon of invisibility, she smirked when the alien didn't even think to dodge. It wasn't a particularly lethal-looking beam after all but that was the point. Wordlessly, she watched him drop to the ground and de-cloaked when she was standing right beside his retching body. What came next wasn't going to be pleasant. Unlike with Zarbon there was no sense of satisfaction of having exacted her revenge. Bulma didn't think it would be easy for her to deliver the killing blow.
Then again, she thought, staring down at Cooler the way she would at a bug that had just crawled out from a hole in the wall, fucker threatened to blow my up world.
She fired a second time, and with the settings on maximum, the reaction was much more violent than she expected.
The heiress forced the wave of nausea down by smiling and channeling her mother of all people because no one would ever expect that, Bulma included. A bit of her pride snuck into her voice though as she declared just how wrong Cold's original ending was. The hostess' smile froze on her face when he started to praise her and she felt her insides burn in outrage that the alien thought she would, for one nanosecond, consider the offer of-
Vegeta blew up Cold's head.
Bulma fell on all fours and promptly threw up.
After she finished emptying the contents of her stomach, she wiped away spittle and bile with the sleeve of her jacket, smearing alien blood across her face in process. There's no saving these clothes, she absently decided, eyes staring down at her blood-drenched garment until a flicker of golden light glinting on the wires of her weapon caught her attention.
Bulma looked up and saw someone looming over her. It took her a moment to recognize that the man, despite his gold hair and teal eyes, was Vegeta. And he was fierce and fearsome and power incarnate. She felt like being on her knees wasn't enough, she felt like she should be bowing, which was ridiculous because like hell would she bow to him. Kami but he was beautiful though.
Before any of the Saiyan's memories could explain this new appearance, she realized he'd been talking to her. "C-can you repeat that?" she stammered, voice unusually small.
He looked startled then sighed irritably, "I said that since this is the best your planet's so-called defenders can manage, if I intend to get my wish I can't afford to leave this planet unsupervised."
"Oh." A beat. "Wait what?"
Somewhere in the Northern Mountains, an angry man was torn between frustration and excitement. He eventually settled for the former as he lamented at his inadequate technology. The drones he'd been forced to rebuild since the overload were considerably less advanced than his old means of spying. It had been a hard decision to forego the auditory components in his spy drones, but a video-feed proved more useful to his needs. At least he could take comfort that the audio and video for his home's security system were still functional.
It didn't stop him from fuming over how he'd failed to gather all the necessary information, nor from bemoaning the loss of the things he could have learned had he but heard the conversation between Goku and the invading aliens. The amount of new data and new samples he gathered wasn't nearly enough to soothe his anger. He couldn't believe there was someone stronger than the boy who'd single handedly brought the Red Ribbon Army down.
He wanted to know more. He ought to know more!
With the recent setback, there was certainly no way he had enough time to see his plans of revenge come to fruition. He considered swallowing his pride to beg for money, or peddle some of his old doodads to the black market. But no, he won't stoop to such demeaning tactics. He had more pride in himself than that!
It takes a real genius to make do with what meager resources one currently had at hand, he mentally reminded himself.
And he was, is, a genius. The greatest there ever was! What did it matter that the Red Ribbon Army was nothing more than a memory to many? He'll rebuild their reputation again, just as he'll rebuild his ruined projects. No one will stop him, not that that wretched Goku nor his warrior friends. And neither will that Briefs girl nor her ingeniously destructive weapons.
He had to admit that that was a fine display of violence. If he could just somehow get his hands on the device she used to obliterate the purple alien, oh the things he could do with it. His mind was already awhirl with theories and potential designs, and this was merely from conjectures. It would be better if he could look at it up close, blueprints naturally would be best but he could just as easily reverse engineer one of his own if he ever managed to get his hands on the device.
Bunny was in a tizzy, rushing from dining room to kitchen to pantry and back. She couldn't remember how long it had been since her daughter brought back this many guests. Fingers threaded along the pages of her cookbook, rejecting and considering which dishes to prepare for with the sudden influx of people.
It was all so short notice! Thank Kami she had all the best groceries, delis, and gourmet stores on speed dial and was on first name basis with their owners.
"Yes, five dozen of the dinosaur haunches -no make that sirloin cut –no! Both. Yes, I'd like both please. Oh and if you could also add in some four dozen pteranodon eggs as well? You could? And freshly laid? You sweet talker you," she giggled. "Send them over as soon as you can, please and thank you~"
"Mrs. Briefs are you sure you want to go through all this trouble for-"
"Of course I do, ChiChi. And please, call me Bunny~" the Briefs matron said, "How are those vegetable coming?"
"I've finished slicing, dicing, and chopping. But just so you know, I'm only helping you because you shouldn't be doing all this work by yourself. I don't want anything to do with those aliens."
"Now ChiChi, that's not a very nice attitude to take with our guests," Bunny gently chided, "And besides, don't you think some of them are quite good looking?"
"Mrs. Briefs! I mean, Bunny! You and I are both married women!"
"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean our eyes stop working, does it?" the blonde giggled and winked for good measure. Honestly, Bunny sometimes thought Bulma and her friends got so worked up over the silliest of things.
"Hullo, dear," her husband greeted after giving her a quick peck on her cheek. "Don't mind me. I'm just showing Jerold around the place."
"Good day, Madame Briefs, Mrs. Son," the four-eyed young man (and really anyone who didn't sport a mustache or beard was a young man as far as Bunny was concerned) bowed. "This is the food preparation facility of your domicile?"
"No, silly, this is the kitchen~" Bunny giggled.
"And if you two aren't going to help with the cooking, you'll just be in the way," ChiChi growled, brandishing a knife at their guest.
"I am afraid my culinary skills are limited to adding water to re-hydrate our rations. But I shall rearrange my schedule to study if you would be so kind as to provide me instructions?" Jerold politely asked.
ChiChi only narrowed her eyes in suspicion. With her knife-holding hand, she pointed them to the door.
"Perhaps now is not the best time to ask for cooking lessons," Dr. Briefs said, smiling as he led their guest back out.
When the two men were out of earshot, Bunny turned to ChiChi, "Interesting features he has, don't you think?"
"He has four eyes if that's what you mean."
"Shame he has such dry skin."
"I think the scales are a natural trait for him."
"Are they? How wonderful for him, he must save a lot on moisturizer!"
ChiChi sighed, "Let's just focus on cooking."
"Oh yes, we still have such a lot to make for everyone." The smile on Bunny's face made it clear that she was enjoying herself. It was always so nice to have Bulma out and about rather than cooped up in her lab all the time. And Bunny enjoyed it even more when Bulma had her friends over. She would listen to them talk even if she didn't understand a thing they were saying. They were so passionate about whatever it was that she couldn't help but share in their excitement.
And like she said earlier, some of her daughter's new friends were quite good looking and eye candy was always welcome. Especially the short one with the dark flame-shaped hair. Bunny giggled to herself when she remembered how Bulma and that nice young man kept sneaking glances at each other. It was almost too cute to for words. The Briefs matron hoped their guests would be here for a long time.
Author's Notes: You might have noticed a bit of a tonal shift in the fic and it's totally because I recently marathoned DBZ Abridged. And yes, the angry old man is totally Dr. Gero and he's quickly becoming my second favorite villain after Frieza. What can I say? I have a soft spot for misanthropic mad scientists hell-bent on improving the world the way they see fit.
Anyway, thank you to my Ideas Taster for helping me wrangle this chapter into actual words (and the BF for putting up with my incessant and sometimes crippling self-doubt.) Thank you to supremewizdom, Boonie91, nancy103, jennifer975, and SaiyanPrince541 for enjoying the sequel so far and for the reviews, insights, and encouraging words. And if I thought Chapter Three was hard, Chapter Four is proving a far tougher chapter to outline, let alone write. Let's hope I don't end up taking a two-year hiatus as a result x.x