Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball/Z/GT.

A/N: WOO. The one we've been waiting for! Now. Let's see Vegeta kick some ass.

Hugs

He held on to that tug, that distinct pull of Bulma's ki, followed it as best he could, until he was in an abandoned and questionable area just east of North City. He hung in the air, glancing around and feeling for that ki. There was nothing; so many levels similar to her, just not her. Where was she?

There. He felt it; that quick flare of a meager power level. Pain. Anger. Maybe fear.

Vegeta landed on the roof of an eight-story building full of empty offices, a business that had been shut down a while ago for some reason or another, he didn't know and didn't care. His feet tapped when they touched the roof, but he made no other noise as he strode to the roof access. Extending his right hand, a small blast formed and decimated the door, leaving a smoking entrance in its place. A few shouts and calls came from the stairwell, followed immediately by running footsteps moving away from him.

It takes tact and cunning to pull off a one-man ambush, King Vegeta's voice echoed in his mind from over three decades before. But sometimes, all you can do is run in head-first, firing at anything that moves.

Fire at anything that moves. That sounded like a good plan to him.

The Saiyan strolled in, glanced over the railing of the stairs, and jumped over them with one swift motion. He landed easily, jumped over the next, then the next, then the next, until he slipped in front of one of the fleeing men. The man's blue eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at the angry man before him. He was Bulma Brief's husband, a participant in the Cell Games. They hadn't really thought of him as much of a threat, since no one had seen him fight and Mr. Satan had been the one to defeat Cell; he realized now how bad of a mistake that judgment had been.

"Where is she?" the Saiyan snarled, grabbing the man's shirt front and hauling him close. The man stuttered, and Vegeta shook him. "If you tell me, I will spare your life."

He didn't need any more coercion than that. "Basement. Straight down, take a right. Farthest door down. Boiler room."

Vegeta grinned at him, a cold and mirthless expression. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" The man swallowed, and then heard a horrible tearing sound as a crippling pain overwhelmed his torso. When his vision cleared and solidified, he glanced down, and thought he would faint. The man's arm from the wrist up, thick with muscle and marred with scars, was protruding from his waist, covered in his blood. He looked at the monster.

"B-but… You said…"

Vegeta smirked. "I lied." The crippling pain doubled and the man passed out as the Saiyan ripped his arm from the wound, holding the crushed remnants of his liver, stomach, and intestines in his hand.

From there, just above the sixth floor, Vegeta checked the building for other low power levels destined to die, but they were moving, heading downstairs to regroup; there were maybe eight in all. As his face set in that determined scowl, the prince made his way down the stairwell, ignoring the blood that covered his left hand.

They were on the first floor, talking and arguing, when he arrived. From what he could hear, they knew one of their members was missing, knew someone had inexplicably come barging in from the roof, and they were trying to plan accordingly. The guy was somewhere in the building. Maybe what's-his-name wasn't dead. Someone suggested two people guard their prisoner. Vegeta's eye twitched. He had his back pushed against the wall, hands loose and ready to fire at the first sign of a threat, and he had turned his head so his ear was aimed at the door. His obsidian eyes stared at nothing. Footsteps came towards him, and he inhaled; like a sniper, he prepared: breathe slowly, concentrate, pull the trigger. The door opened, revealing a muscular man with olive skin and beady eyes. In a blur of movement, Vegeta had spun on him, left hand releasing a small blast in front of his face and disintegrating his head as his right grabbed for the doorknob. The force of the explosion pushed the limp body against the man behind him, sent them both flying; the Saiyan slipped inside and shut the door behind him, thus blocking the room's only exit.

Two down, he thought with a smirk. The blood rushed through his veins; small specks of blood on his face made him twice as threatening. This was what he'd been aching for.

"Seems you've taken something of mine," he growled to the men that stared at him, his voice husky with bloodlust. One man raised a rather large gun and fired twice at the intruder; there was no blood or falling body. The man with the flame-hair had his arm extended, unclenched his fingers, and two small pieces of metal fell clinking to the floor. His smirk only broadened.

"Piece by piece," he snarled, smirk vanishing. "Yes, I think that was a good idea. I will take you all apart. Piece. By. Piece."

The crony that had fallen beneath the decapitated body began to scream; Vegeta was on him immediately, his fingers digging into his throat, closing around his wind pipe. With a snarl, he pulled, taking some of the man's trachea with him. The screaming shifted into gurgling and wheezing. Several others started shouting and firing their weapons; the bullets bounced off harmlessly, and when dark eyes turned their violent gaze upon them, they tried to run. He was in front of them, blocking the exit, laughing and charging simultaneously. The Saiyan grabbed the first man's gun, attached to him by a strap, and pulled, effectively ripping the arm off entirely. He used the butt of the gun in his hand to crack another's skull, and the body fell to the floor, limp. The third tried to sneak up on him, but Vegeta spun, grabbed his head by his jaw, and dug his fingers into the flesh. With an animal cry, he twisted, pulled, and slammed the man head-first into the tile with enough force to crush the cranium and send gray matter flying.

As the blood started to spread, he turned to the others, who were staring stunned and terrified. "Who's next?"

The screams didn't last long enough to call attention to the building.

In the basement, the Saiyan prince walked slowly and with dignity. He had turned right and was making his way to the boiler room, farthest door down the hall. A weak ki that he could feel more now than before was pulsing, pulling him, easing his concerns. He could feel her; she was alive. One last man approached him –he had been guarding the room Bulma was in– but stopped midway; the short man with strange hair was covered in blood and didn't seem opposed to wearing more. Before he could run, Vegeta was in front of him, casually punching him in the jaw hard enough to break his neck; he never broke stride.

The door was locked but gave with a strong enough push. The room was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. There, in the corner, tethered to a rusted pipe by a rope around her neck and cuffs on her right wrist, was an unconscious Bulma. Bruises were forming on her left eye; her nose looked broken, her lip busted, and dried blood turned some of her aquamarine hair brown. She didn't move as Vegeta untied the rope or broke the handcuffs. As he made to pick her up, he finally noticed how much blood was on his hands; idly, he tried to wipe them off on his shirt and jeans, to no avail. After a moment, he gave up, and lifted her easily.

"Woman," he said softly, trying to rouse her. "Woman, open your eyes." Nothing. Vegeta sighed, holding her tighter and resting his forehead against hers. "Bulma."

There. She stirred. She wasn't comatose. Appeased, he carried her to the first floor, blasted a hole in the closest wall, and stepped out into the fading sunlight. Gently, he shifted Bulma so that he held her with one arm. With a final glance backwards, he extended his free arm and fired a massive blast.

He had vanished into the air before the building finished collapsing.

A/N: Sorry if that was a little brutal, but damn that was fun to write. Review please!