Justice

In Vegeta's experience, thugs were hired by higher-ups in the criminal world. Therefore, whoever hired the thugs who tried to kidnap Mrs. Brief and Bulma were hired by someone who was a 'lord' in the criminal subculture. He didn't know much about how crime worked on Earth, but he doubted it was much different than the dozens of other planets he'd traveled to in his life. All he had to do was find a common hangout, eavesdrop on some conversations, and ask the right people the right questions, and he would probably be able to sniff out one Charlie Conrad in no time. Even if that was a pseudonym, he'd find the man behind the mask.

One question he had was why the Briefs were a target. At least, the female Briefs. He knew they were rich and prestigious. That meant that whoever wanted them either wanted to use them as ransom against Dr. Brief or as leverage in a business-related ordeal. That meant 'Charlie Conrad' could either be some slime-ball low-life that dealt in the lower end of the crime spectrum or a powerful businessman with friends in low places. It was Vegeta's task to figure out which it was.

He started his search in the slums of West City, figuring that's where crime was the worst. Where there was crime, there were criminals. Many of them would work independently, but undoubtedly he would find traces of a criminal network if he searched in the right places. He had a knack for finding the sleazy creeps who used law-breaking as their livelihood. Often, he used them for his own purposes, bending their wills to accomplish his own goals in exchange for their enduring longevity. He did not consider himself on the same level as them. They were merely pawns in his own game of survival. He was above them and made sure they knew it.

Vegeta spent three days wandering the streets before he overheard a piece of information of interest: "D'you hear what happened to the second team he sent after 'em?"

The saiyan, who had been reclining on the ledge of the second story of an old brick building, glanced down at the two men passing by on the sidewalk. They were conversing in hushed tones and consistently glancing over their shoulders and looking around to make sure no one was around to overhear them. They didn't think to look up.

"Yeah," the second man replied. "I heard they were beaten up pretty bad 'fore the coppers got to 'em. He's havin' a hard time gettin' anyone to take the job now."

"Bunch o' cowards. I'd take it if he'd give me the job."

The first man's companion nodded as he checked over his shoulder once more. "You're tellin' me. I could use fifty grand." The two men rounded the corner of the building and continued on their way down the street, never knowing they inadvertently told someone their secret information.

'So, Conrad's offering a large sum of money for the successful kidnapping of the Briefs,' Vegeta thought. 'I wonder where one might inquire about such a job.'

The saiyan jumped down to the ground and sniffed the air until he locked on to the scents of the men who passed by not a minute earlier. He logged it away in his memory and started following their scent trail back the way they had come. Even if it didn't lead to anywhere interesting, he could find them again and, if nothing else, forcibly extract the information he wanted from them.

It was slow going following the men's fading scents. The city was filled with different odors that were not only distracting but stronger than that of the men; car exhaust, garbage, bubble gum stuck to the sidewalk, every scent worked to disguise the men. There were times he lost the trail completely and had to back up and search it out through all the layers of odors hanging in the air. Finally, after more than two hours, he came to the door of a rundown tavern that had a picture of a woman's silhouette in the window. His lip curled in disgust when he realized what sort of establishment it was.

When Vegeta walked in the door his eyes immediately started burning as cigarette smoke wafted through the dimly lit room. Ignoring the putrid scent, Vegeta took a few steps further into the little hellhole, his eyes scanning the area for anyone who looked like they might have some information for him. To his left was some sort of stage with stools around it. There were two metal poles extending from the floor of the stage to the ceiling. No one was over there. His suspicions about the type of business he was in was confirmed. He had seen many like it on other planets, dragged there by other soldiers despite his age. It was sickening to him. He turned from it and saw a row of tables along the far wall. All of them were empty but one. He saw a small group of men, five or six that he could see from his standpoint, sitting in a corner booth and started walking in their direction, his feet silent on the stained brown carpet.

"Hey, get out o' here, runt!"

Vegeta's head slowly turned to the side, a snarl on his lips. There was a man standing behind a bar glaring at him and pointing toward the door. Vegeta's tail uncoiled from his waist and started twitching from side to side. He wasn't going anywhere until he got what he wanted. His burning gaze locked onto the man who started sweating under the intensity of the boy's glare. He picked up a glass from the bar and started polishing it with a white towel, taking sudden interest in his work instead of the flame-haired boy. He was a smart man and knew when it was better to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't as though he didn't know a good number of his regular patrons weren't such good citizens.

Vegeta turned back to the men in the booth and continued walking toward them. He could hear them talking quietly amongst themselves. Any human wouldn't have been able to hear a word they said, but his keen hearing enabled him to make out what they were saying from across the room.

"It's gotta be the same person who interfered the first time!"

"I thought you said they ain't got a bodyguard."

"They don't."

"Then a benevolent stalker?" one man snorted.

"Who knows?"

"We can't let it happen again."

"What are we gonna do 'bout it?"

By the time the last question was asked, Vegeta had reached the table where they were huddled around their bottles of beer. They looked nervous, agitated, somewhat frustrated. Some of them were more relaxed, reclining back in their seats with faces red from intoxication. The rest of them held onto their drinks with one hand but didn't take many swigs of them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Vegeta drawled once he stopped at the end of the table.

The man closest to him glanced over and frowned. "What do you want, kid?"

The corner of Vegeta's lips turned up in a smirk. "I want to know who Charlie Conrad is."

He was met with silence. Some of the men openly gaped at him while the rest scowled and shifted in their seats, ready to throttle the kid for speaking that name so casually. Vegeta saw their reactions and his smirk grew. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin so he could look down his nose at them.

"Don't know who you're talking about, runt. Now beat it."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Tell me what I want to know or I swear I will rip your entrails out and make you eat them before you die."

The men at the table were clearly taken aback by the boy's threat. They hadn't paid him much mind when he first came over, asking about a name he probably heard somewhere on the street. But now he was issuing unveiled threats much too gruesome for a typical kid.

"We don't know nothing."

"That is unfortunate," Vegeta said calmly. He reached out and grabbed the nearest man, apparently the spokesman for the rest of them, by the collar and pulled him closer so their noses were almost touching. "Because I'm going to start killing you until someone learns something."

The man swallowed hard before he remembered he was being threatened by a little kid. He pulled away from Vegeta, who willingly released his hold on the man's sweaty shirt collar. "You can't scare us, kid. And I already told you we don't know nothing."

"Wrong answer." Vegeta drew his fist back before driving it into the man's face. There was the sound of bone cracking followed by the man's howl of pain. His hands flew to his bleeding nose.

All the other men jumped to their feet, pulling weapons out of their hiding places. They clutched their guns and knives in a silent warning for Vegeta to back off. He wasn't intimidated in the least. He eyed each weapon passively before snorting in mild amusement.

"You should put your silly toys away. They won't do you any good against me."

"Get the hell out of here!" one of the drunken men yelled, his words running together.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He lifted his right hand and extended his index finger and thumb in the shape of a gun and pointed it at the drunkard. "Bang."

The men shouted in surprise when a thin beam of ki shot from Vegeta's finger and pierced the man's heart. He collapsed back into his seat, dead. Vegeta ducked when one of the men leaped over the table, swinging his knife at him. He punched the man in the gut and threw him to the side right in time to jump over the next attacker and kick him into the wall. He landed on the table and lifted the man with the broken nose by his shirt collar.

"Are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

The man nodded his head.

Vegeta dropped him back into his seat and sat down on the edge of the table, his back to all the other men. "Talk."

Behind him, one of the others raised his gun and pulled the trigger. Vegeta spun around, caught the bullet, and threw it back in a split second. The would-be assassin slumped back in his seat, a bleeding hole in his forehead. Vegeta scowled at the survivors. "Anyone else want to try that?"

The men all shook their heads. Vegeta sneered at them and swung his legs over the edge of the table again. His patience was wearing thin. If they didn't start coughing up some information soon he would just kill the lot of them and find some better, more cooperative informants.

"Alright," the broken-nosed man said, "This is all I know about Charlie Conrad…"

"Mom!" Bulma pouted, stamping her foot on the tile floor, "It's been four days! I don't think he wants to come back."

Mrs. Brief knelt down in front of her daughter and smiled as brightly as she could. "Don't worry, honey, he'll come. You know he's a very independent young man and won't come back until he's good and ready."

Bulma sighed and traced shapes with her toe on the floor. She was tired of waiting for her friend to come back to live with them. She spent two weeks searching for him, and when they finally found him – or rather, he found them – he left again with only a promise to return eventually. He didn't say how long it would be and she was starting to doubt whether he would come back at all. What could possibly be holding him up?

"Cheer up, dear," her father said from his seat at the table. She looked over at him, but his morning newspaper was blocking her view of his face. "He'll be back. Just give him time."

"How's he even going to get back in?" Bulma asked sullenly. "He doesn't have his ID card."

Dr. Brief chuckled and turned the page of his newspaper. "He's a clever enough boy. I'm sure he'll find a way."

"Now sit down and eat your breakfast, sweetie," Mrs. Brief said as she stood up and went back to the stove to finish cooking the bacon.

Bulma trudged over to the table and took her seat. She wasn't really hungry. She was too tired to care about eating. She woke up again last night from another nightmare and hadn't been able to get back to sleep for almost an hour.

Her parents noticed her lack of appetite and the signs of fatigue on her young features. They heard her crying out through the night and knew she was having yet another nightmare. They were deeply concerned for her. How could it not affect her, nearly being kidnapped twice in two weeks? They had hoped that her usual resilience would help her get over the trauma, but they were starting to think she might need some sort of counseling to work through it. They couldn't let her suffering go on like this.

'Please come back soon, Veggie,' Bulma begged in her mind.

Vegeta stopped in front of a large house. He wasn't in the slummy part of town anymore, but he wasn't in an upscale neighborhood either. It was average. The house was average, surrounded by more average lookalike houses along average streets lined with average cars. Nothing to draw any attention, nothing to suggest that within this house lived a criminal mastermind. The tall, beige house didn't look like the hideout for a crime lord at all. He almost wondered if the information he got was all made up. Shrugging, he went up the whitewashed wooden porch steps to the front door and beat his fist against it.

The door was answered a minute later by a thin bald man wearing a black muscle shirt and charcoal gray slacks. Vegeta raised an eyebrow when he saw him. His eyes quickly scanned the man and he smirked when he saw where he had a concealed weapon. He had the right house, after all.

"We don't want any," the man said before moving to slam the front door closed.

Vegeta held the door open and glared at the man. "I'm not selling anything. I'm here to see Charlie Conrad."

"He isn't seeing any visitors," the man replied, again trying to shut the door.

Vegeta growled. "I'm not a visitor. Get the hell out of the way if you want to live."

The man stepped back, more from surprise than surrender. Vegeta took his opportunity to walk in and slammed the door closed behind him. He sniffed the faintly sweet-smelling air and went to the staircase. The man who answered the door ran after him to protest his going upstairs.

"You can't go up there!"

"Watch me." Vegeta's tail bristled and flicked behind him agitatedly. No one told him what he couldn't do. He turned to the side and fired a small ki blast through the man's chest. All was quiet aside from the thump of a dead body hitting the hardwood floor as he started up the stairs. He had something to discuss with Charlie.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he sniffed the air again and turned to the left down a short hallway. There were only two doors – one on the right and one at the end of the hall. Vegeta stalked past the first door and went to the one at the end. Pausing in front of it, he listened for any sounds coming from inside. Someone coughed. Vegeta shifted his weight to his left foot and kicked the door down with his right. The door flew off its hinges in splinters.

"What the hell?"

Vegeta strolled into the room with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes moved over his surroundings, coming to a stop when they reached a man sitting at a simple desk in the corner. He didn't look like much. Pale, scrawny, balding. He might have been in his late thirties.

"Who are you?" he demanded when he saw Vegeta.

Vegeta didn't answer right away. He resumed his survey of the room. It was cloudy with smoke, but not the sour stench of cigarettes. It had the same sweet scent as the rest of the house. There wasn't a lot of furniture. One recliner and a couch around a glass coffee table in the center, lamps in the corners, and the desk where the man – presumably Charlie Conrad – was seated.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, propping up his feet on the table. "You're Charlie Conrad?"

The man stood up, rage in his eyes. "Who do you think you are?"

"That's not important. Are you, or are you not, Charlie Conrad?" Vegeta was losing patience.

"Yes, you punk. Now tell me what you want here!"

"What I want?" Vegeta asked, crossing his arms behind his head. "I want to kill you."

Charlie Conrad scoffed. Death threats didn't scare him. He'd heard way too many in his rise in the criminal world to be fazed anymore. "Get out of here, kid."

"No."

The crime lord was slightly stunned. When he told people to get out, they got out. People listened to Charlie Conrad. He stomped over to the broken door, ready to be rid of the unknown boy's unwanted presence.

"Rolling!" he bellowed. "What the hell are you doing? Get in here!"

Vegeta snickered at the man. Let him call for his bodyguard all he wanted, he wasn't going to come. "Rolling? Bald man? Tall?"

Charlie spun around to face the boy. "Yes," he hissed. "So he let you in?"

"Not exactly."

Realization started to dawn on the criminal that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary kid. "Why are you here?"

"Like I said, to kill you."

"But why?"

"Because you keep hiring blundering fools to kidnap the Briefs. I don't know and I don't care why, but it's going to stop."

Conrad took a few steps forward, his hand moving to his gun. No one was supposed to know he was behind that.

Vegeta held one hand up and brandished his index finger at the man. "Nuh uh, uh. I wouldn't do that if I were you. Several of your lackeys have already tried that on me and you can see how well it worked."

"You're the one who killed my employees, aren't you?"

The cruel smirk that spread across Vegeta's lips chased away any doubts there may have been. He looked quite pleased with himself for his work. "I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out."

"What are you?" Charlie Conrad asked through clenched teeth.

Vegeta shrugged. "I've been called a lot of things, but all that matters is that I am going to end your sorry existence."

"So you've said two times already. Well, kid, if you intend to kill me, why don't you get it over with?" The attempt to call a bluff failed as there was no bluff. He watched with apprehension as Vegeta rose from his seat in one slow, smooth movement, his eyes locked on him like a predator. That smirk never faltered.

"I had no idea you would be so eager to die," he said. He took one step before Charlie raised his gun and fired. The bullet hit Vegeta's forehead. Then it fell to the floor, not even leaving a mark. "Are we done with these games yet?"

"Die!" Charlie spent his ammunition in a vain attempt to save himself.

Vegeta started laughing, a low sound that grew to insane mirth. "Sorry, but that's what you're doing." In the blink of an eye he was in front of Charlie, his fingers wrapped around the man's throat.

The strong musk of fear permeated the air. Vegeta inhaled deeply and growled in satisfaction. He could see horror in his victim's eyes. Such a familiar sight made Vegeta's body burn with bloodlust. Holding another's life in his hands always gave him a rush. His eyes dilated with excitement, making him look even more animalistic.

"But your death will not be quick," he hissed. His free hand, burning with ki, trailed down the man's neck and chest, searing his skin, then stopped at his stomach. "Because you see, I don't like anyone trying to hurt my pack mates."

Charlie Conrad could only wheeze and make gurgling sounds as his trachea was crushed in the saiyan's grip. He kicked, flailed his arms, and clawed at the vise grip on his throat, but there was no escape. He tried to scream when he felt the burning intensify and he felt like he was being ripped open.

His perception wasn't too far off. Slowly, Vegeta pushed his hand against the man's stomach until he was impaling him. Hot blood gushed over his hand and flowed down Charlie's body. Vegeta flicked his tongue over his long canines, the reek of blood and death now intermingling with fear and marijuana. He forced his hand all the way through the crime lord's back before pulling it out. Blood spattered on him and Charlie choked in agony and his own blood.

"Don't die on me yet," Vegeta taunted. "We're just getting started."

Bulma sat at the edge of the swimming pool watching the clear blue water ripple in the light breeze. She sighed, wishing Vegeta would hurry up and come back. She was getting lonely always being by herself. She kicked her feet in the water, thoroughly bored. She spent the past hour swimming and was too tired to do it anymore.

"Maybe he didn't believe us. Maybe he decided not to come back. How long are we going to sit around waiting for him?"

Five days! It had been five days since they saw him. He said he needed to take care of something. What could a homeless boy possibly need to do? Bulma frowned and laid back with her arms crossed over her chest. She stared up at the bright blue sky. Maybe Vegeta would drop out of the sky if she wished hard enough. Her rational mind told her otherwise, but she didn't care.

'I miss him a lot. Stupid boy, where the heck is he?'

"Now that's no fun. I insist you stay with me for this," Vegeta said when he noticed his victim losing consciousness. "I'll let you die soon, don't worry."

Charlie Conrad's eyes rolled back in his head as he finally slipped into black oblivion. Vegeta frowned, disappointed. He didn't know when he started enjoying prolonging suffering. When he was young he liked to make death quick and easy. He saw no point in delaying the inevitable. He was a warrior, not a monster. When did he change? Maybe when he was put on the receiving end of these games. He shook his head. It didn't matter when it happened. The fact of the matter was that it did. He became a monster, a cheap imitation of the lizard. It was a sad thing for an eleven year-old boy to look inward and see what he hated the most. He decided not to think about it.

He allowed Charlie Conrad's body to sink to the floor, no longer interested in tearing him limb from limb. He sighed and stepped over the mutilated body of the former crime lord. He already exacted his revenge. Without a second glance he blasted Conrad into the next dimension and left the house.

Vegeta blinked in the bright sunlight. He'd been inside for over a day torturing the deceased criminal and mastermind behind the attempted kidnappings. He yawned and levitated into the air. Sleep would be welcome, as well as a decent meal. Covered in blood and gore, he thought it would probably be a good idea to clean up before going back to Capsule Corporation. He flew out of the city and went to his space pod to pick up his scouter before stopping at the stream to clean himself and his armor.

Bulma stood up and stormed into the compound. She had been stewing in her thoughts for too long and now she was aggravated with her parents and Vegeta because she saw all of them as being at fault for his continued absence. She slammed her bedroom door closed and went to take a shower to get the chlorine out of her hair.

'If I ever see him again, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind,' she swore angrily.

Vegeta flew back to West City and slowed his pace when he saw the domed compound in the distance. Uncertainty reared its ugly head as he drew closer. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to return. Maybe Dr. Brief didn't want him there. Wasn't his word final? He considered turning back. He wasn't scared per se, but he was anxious. He wanted to be accepted back into their home and didn't think he could stand it if he was kicked out again. Before he reached the compound he stopped and hovered in the air, his tail twitching agitatedly behind him.

'I don't need to strengthen these foolish attachments,' he told himself as he half turned away. He looked back at the compound. 'Then again, isn't it already too late for that? At least there all my needs are provided for. It serves my purposes to go back.'

Eventually his stomach and fatigue made up his mind for him. He took a deep breath and flew to Capsule Corporation. He landed on the balcony to his guest room and went inside. The compound was definitely lacking security against airborne threats. He thought about bringing that up to Dr. Brief. Humans didn't fly like he did, but they probably had some kind of technology that could help them out in that department.

Vegeta pulled off his armor and bodysuit and dumped them in the laundry hamper. No doubt Mrs. Brief wouldn't approve of his smelly clothes. He pulled a t-shirt and shorts out of the dresser and put them on before walking out of his room to go to the kitchen and get some nourishment. He hadn't eaten a filling meal in days.

When he walked into the kitchen he saw Mrs. Brief cutting up vegetables at the counter. He marveled at her ability to cook all day, every day, even when he wasn't there. Or had she been cooking large meals since they found him, expecting him to return every day? He shrugged and went to the refrigerator to dig out a snack to hold him over until dinner. It was mid-afternoon and his stomach was growling louder than an angry bear. That was the sound that caught Mrs. Brief's attention.

"Vegeta! When did you get back?" she asked when she turned to see what the source of the noise was. She ran over to him and hugged him as tightly as she could. He was surprised that she was nearly able to cut off his air supply.

"Just now," he answered, hoping to appease her and get her to let go so he could breathe freely again.

Mrs. Brief giggled and released him. "I bet you're awfully hungry. Three weeks on the streets, oh my. I can't imagine how terrible that must have been." She continued on her rant as she went to the refrigerator and pulled a bunch of leftovers out to heat up for the saiyan boy.

"Hn."

"You should go see Bulma, you know. She's missed you so much and I know she'll be so happy to see you back. She was starting to get worried you weren't going to come home."

"Home?" he muttered to himself. He never claimed Capsule Corporation as his home. He didn't have a home and never would, no matter how long he resided in one place. His home was destroyed years ago. He dismissed that thought and went to sit at the table while he waited for Mrs. Brief to lay his small feast out for him.

"Did you get your thing taken care of?" she asked as she poured him a glass of milk.

He raised an eyebrow, not sure what she was talking about. Then he remembered that he told her he had some business to deal with before he returned to the compound. His confused expression was replaced with a smug smirk. "Yes, it's taken care of. It won't be a problem again."

"That's nice, dear."

"Hn."

Vegeta started eating with his usual gusto. Once the first bite of food made it to his mouth all conversation came to a standstill. Mrs. Brief resumed chopping vegetables for dinner and started humming a happy tune to herself. Vegeta was soothed by the sound, off-key though it was. It made him feel at ease being with someone who wasn't terrified of him and didn't hate him. He might never admit it to anyone but himself, but he really liked being with the Briefs. They were weak, helpless, absent-minded, maybe even crazy, but he liked them despite their quirks. Who else would ever go out of their way to make sure he was comfortable? Maybe Nappa and Raditz would, but only because it was their duty to serve their prince.

He was finishing his snack when Bulma burst into the room, practically radiating her umbrage in palpable waves. She didn't notice the reason behind her foul mood as she stomped over to the refrigerator and threw it open to look for something to drink. She pulled out some juice and slammed it down on the counter before reaching into the cupboard for a glass.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Brief greeted her daughter, cheerful as ever. She didn't need to turn to know who was making all the noise behind her. "Did you have a nice swim?"

"Sure, Mom," Bulma grumbled.

Vegeta watched the blue-haired girl with barely restrained humor as she moved around the kitchen with fire burning in her cerulean eyes. She was furious about something, and he could guess what that something was. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts and anger that she couldn't see him sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away from her. His shoulders started shaking as he worked to suppress his laughter.

"That stupid boy!" she finally yelled. "He's never going to come back!"

Mrs. Brief giggled. "Honey, he's right over there," she said, pointing over her shoulder toward the table.

"Huh?" Bulma whirled around and almost fell over backwards when she saw Vegeta looking right back at her. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He couldn't hold it in any longer. When he saw her blush he broke into uncontrollable laughter. For once his laughter was genuine, not laced with insanity or cruelty. Both of the Briefs noticed the change, though they couldn't quite figure out what the change was. Either way, Bulma and Mrs. Brief also broke into laughter as Vegeta's became terribly contagious. Three weeks of stress, frustration, and resentment were wiped from memory as they let it all go in that moment.

"What's all this laughing about?"

Vegeta immediately sobered up as Dr. Brief walked into the kitchen, his mustache twitching with amusement. He smiled when saw Vegeta at the table and the cheerful mood of his wife and daughter. It was the first time since Vegeta left that he couldn't feel any tension in the air. Not until his gaze met Vegeta's, at least.

What could he say to the boy in way of apology? He never meant to chase the boy out in the first place. Words failed him, so he walked over to where the young saiyan was sitting and, for the first time since he'd lived at Capsule Corporation, drew him into an embrace tight enough to rival his wife. He could feel every muscle in Vegeta's body tense at his touch before it slowly started to lessen.

"I'm glad you're home, son," Dr. Brief told him before pulling away.

Vegeta remained silent as the old scientist walked around the table and took his usual seat. He'd come with the sole purpose of finding out whether or not Vegeta had returned yet, and he got his answer. Now he wanted to stay with his family and enjoy a rare moment of peace with them. Slowly, a shadow of a smile crept across Vegeta's lips. For the first time since his life was stolen from him, he felt accepted. He felt like someone honestly cared for him.

A/N: Vegeta's a beast! You should never mess with his pack. But you should review. ;)