Dying Conscience

The stars were shining brightly in the velvety black sky overhead. The city was quiet, the lights dim; it was peaceful, as though every being there had gone to bed early to rise early at the crack of dawn. The stillness was broken by the birds and insects flitting through the air, their wings a quiet whisper rippling through the silence. The moon was high in the sky, outshining the most brilliant star with its fullness. Its light reflected off the snowy ground, scattering through the darkness, giving the world an eerily beautiful aura.

A burning flash of light seared across the night sky. Then another. And another. The flashes were followed by ground-trembling booms in the distance, sending a shockwave rolling across the ground and obliterating the weaker structures. The birds fled, the calm sound of their feathers in the gentle breeze replaced with frantic cries of pain and panic. The city's residents – the ones not killed in the destruction – ran from their homes to see what was happening. There were no signs of a natural disaster, so what then?

Three space pods opened and a saiyan stepped out of each. Two gigantic, one small. They surveyed the area, sniffed the air, and smirked. The smell of fear was already filling the planet's atmosphere. This was going to be easy. The shortest saiyan raised his hand and pushed the button on the side of his scouter twice to get a reading of the power levels they would have to contend with on the small planet. He was more eager than the others to get started. He had been out of commission for a year before being sent on this assignment. After he woke from his coma, it had been another half year before they were given this assignment. It took three absmonths to reach this little planet. Finally he would be able to satisfy his thirst for blood. After nearly daily beatings for months on end, he was ready to shed someone else's blood. A purge was exactly what he needed.

"What's it say, Prince Vegeta?" Nappa asked while rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He was excited about a new mission, hopefully a challenging one after a year spent on Frieza's ship doing almost nothing.

Vegeta scoffed. "This planet's natives are pathetic. The average power level is 30. There's only 12 million. This is going to be a breeze."

The disappointment was evident in the bald saiyan's expression. He stretched his back and clenched his hands into fists. "What? That's ridiculous!"

"Obviously, you idiot. Frieza doesn't want us getting any good fights. Our power might grow too much." Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and levitated off the ground. "Nappa, head west. Raditz, take the north. I'll get the rest. Meet back here as soon as you're finished."

"Yes, sir," the older saiyans said in unison. Their ki flared up around them and they took off in the direction they were told.

'Doesn't want us to get stronger?' Raditz mused. 'No, Prince, Frieza doesn't want you to get stronger. Not after that display in his throne room. But you don't even remember. He made sure of that.'

The long-haired saiyan landed in the city that was already partially destroyed and started blasting any sentient being he saw running in the streets. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a purge. When he was first enlisted in Frieza's army separate from the saiyan ranks, he'd thought it was the greatest achievement in his life. He wasn't especially strong, but he was brutal. He loved killing. Now, though, it had gotten too mundane. Kill a few people here, a few people there, what was the fun in it anymore? No one put up a decent fight. He was still far below the power levels of his comrades, but much stronger than most of the beings they ever encountered on their purges. His power was peaking at 3,000 now, but so what? He never got to use it. He had an itching in the back of his mind that maybe killing like this wasn't honorable. It wasn't as thrilling as he first thought it to be. It was little more than a chore done for a creature he despised. He flew above the city and threw a Double Sunday down on it and left to find the next group of people to slaughter. 'I hope the others are having more fun than me. This blows.'

Vegeta touched down at a small village and pushed the button on his scouter to get an exact number of the population. Only a few over 400. Hardly worth wasting his time. He sighed and walked through the village, blasting each house into oblivion and all the residents with them. He never saw a single one of his victims before he took off for the next town. He didn't know why, but he preferred not seeing the horror in their eyes, the sympathy they held for him until their dying breath, as if he were the one to be pitied. It reminded him of his earliest purges, when he couldn't stand to look at the people as he slaughtered them. He had grown out of that, though. He learned to find amusement in their terror and satisfaction in their pain. So why was he back to this? Why did it feel wrong to kill these people? They were nothing. Their lives were meaningless. He should feel no shame in ending their lives. They were weak; he was strong. Yes, he was very strong, which only raised more questions for him.

'Why is it that I am so much stronger than before if I was in a coma for a year? I was unable to train during that time. It doesn't make sense. Unless my power grew substantially because of the coma.' Vegeta looked down at his hands and clenched and unclenched them into fists. He felt power like he never had before coursing through him. More than anything he wanted to be able to use it, to test it against a worthy opponent. But if Frieza had his way, he would never fight a good battle again. He growled and sped up his flight. He was eager to get this purge over with as soon as possible. It seemed trivial anyway. What was so great about such a puny planet? Either someone had offered a good price for it or there were resources available that he didn't know about.

He saw another small town and blasted it as he flew past. This definitely wasn't worth his time. Raditz could have been sent alone and would have wiped the planet clean of life in no time. But for some unfathomable reason his whole squadron was sent on the three month-long journey to purge this one planet. Then it would be another three months back to Frieza's ship.

'This is absurd! I could have better spent my time training!' Vegeta couldn't explain why he wanted to train so badly. It had always been something he was obligated to do since before he could remember clearly. He trained essentially every day of his life, but he never really liked it that well. Now it seemed to be the only thing that was ever on his mind. He wanted to train and his body was filled with unspent energy. He was frustrated. He needed an outlet for his power. Whatever the reason for his new obsession with training, it didn't matter. He wanted to train.

Vegeta ran across a large city and landed on one of the skyscrapers. "Die, fools." He raised his right hand and gathered a sizable ball of ki and sent it directly into the center of the city. There was a short delay and then an enormous explosion that shook the planet's foundations. The entire city was wiped away as if it had never been. Vegeta hovered in the air over the destruction. There were no signs of life evident. Nothing more than a crater laid below him. He smirked and darted off to find the next city the planet had to offer.

Raditz stopped in his attack on a town when his scouter came to life and showed a power level of 12,000 across the globe. He shook his head in wonder. That couldn't have been anyone but Vegeta. It was almost frightening how powerful he had become. When he first arrived at Frieza's ship after his disappearance, he was rumored to have a power level of 10,000. But he was there in the throne room when he fought Frieza and Zarbon. His power had skyrocketed to over 30,000. Where did that power go? Why did he never show it again? That power put him at the top of the elites of Frieza's army. That was stronger than Dodoria, even. He hoped his prince didn't gain so much power so fast that it would consume him. He'd heard of older warriors being destroyed by their own power. Vegeta was still a boy with a horrible temper. His power always rose when he went into a rage; if he was capable of raising it so high, would he be able to push it still higher if he was overwhelmed with fury? Would he be able to control himself? Raditz feared not.

'He's got to be more bored than I am. He's going to have to take it out on someone sometime.' Raditz smirked at first, imagining Vegeta pummeling the soldiers on Frieza's ship, but it faded when he realized that more often than not, Vegeta was alone with himself and Nappa. 'He wouldn't kill us, would he?'

Vegeta checked his scouter to find the nearest group of natives. He located another city a hundred miles further south and took off in that direction. It was almost a shame it would be such a quick purge. They would have it done before the night was over at the rate they were going. They wouldn't even get to stick around for the full moon. No wonder his blood was boiling. It was so close. The blutz waves were almost enough to make him transform, but not quite. Still, the primal urges were affecting him. He wanted to destroy the whole damn planet. Blow it to smithereens. Watch it float away as space dust and then go destroy more. A wicked smirk crossed his face. Lucky for this planet he wasn't going to transform into an oozaru before he left. Not that it would be worth the trouble anyway. It was pathetic.

As Vegeta traveled around the planet destroying city after city, ending millions of lives single-handedly, he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't right. That he could be so much better than a killing machine used for the lizard's purpose. He'd never really enjoyed killing for the sake of Frieza's growing empire, but it was sickening him in a way that left him questioning his actions in a way he hadn't before. As if, from nowhere, he had grown a small conscience that was disgusted with him for killing so senselessly. It was a weak voice, whispering in the depths of his mind that he should not kill, especially not without good reason. It was easily ignored for the most part, but as the night progressed and he killed more, it grew louder and more irritating. Despite his desire for causing mayhem and death, it was persistent.

Finally it seemed to scream at him to stop as he raised his hand, a glowing orb of ki held in his palm ready to throw down on an unsuspecting town. He was startled and nearly lost the ki he had gathered. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' he wondered, shaking his head. He'd lost his conscience years ago; it was tossed aside along with his blackened soul. It was the only way to survive as Frieza's slave. Having a conscience would lead to madness and death. He already knew he was damned to hell because of his actions, what was the point in acting as if it mattered now? He killed so he lived. Was that wrong? Was it wrong to survive so that one day he could avenge his people? That was the ultimate goal, the reason he was willing to commit such atrocities in Frieza's name.

He growled. He knew killing helpless civilians wasn't honorable. He wasn't so stupid as to believe killing like this would do anything to build up his pride. But since when had he cared? He threw the ki ball into the center of the town in defiant rage and flew on to the next village nearby. He almost felt sick with guilt. 'I just need to get used to it again. It's been too long.'

'You can't do this!' the voice inside raged as he destroyed yet another peaceful village.

Vegeta snarled and clawed at his temples. "Shut up! Get out of my head!"

'It isn't right! They have no way to defend themselves!'

"I don't care! Leave me alone!"

'What you're doing is disgraceful.'

"Where the hell did you come from anyway?"

The voice was silent. Smirking to himself, Vegeta hurried on to the next city, hoping he had effectively silenced the voice for good. He didn't know why he was suddenly remembering past purges, but it didn't matter. It only helped to remind him that this is what he was made for, shaped into. A killer. He had no conscience, no remorse. He hated the reason he killed, but he saw it as opportunity to grow in strength. One day he would be the most powerful being in the universe. He would slowly, torturously kill the lizard and take his place as ruler of the universe. If that meant the blood of billions staining his hands, so be it. There were worse things. Right?

"I must be losing my mind," Vegeta muttered to himself as he blew up a chain of farmhouses. Talking to himself was a sure sign of that. "Not that it would be the first time."

By the time the sun rose over the horizon Vegeta had cleared all life from his quadrants of the planet. He lowered himself to the ground, knee-deep in snow, and crossed his arms over his chest. There was a fire raging behind him, burning up the last remains of civilization in the southern hemisphere. He pushed the button on his scouter to send a transmission to his comrades.

"Nappa, Raditz, are you done yet?"

"Affirmative," Nappa replied.

Raditz took a moment longer to respond. "Just finishing up, sir."

"Good," Vegeta said. "Meet back at the pods. I want to hurry up and get a new assignment. Maybe we'll get something worthwhile next time." The two older saiyans grumbled in agreement and cut the transmissions.

He couldn't explain why, but he desperately wanted to vacate the planet after ridding it of its inhabitants. It seemed too barren, the smoldering city ruins silently raising accusations against him. Every blank, empty stare he received from the eyes of the corpses made him shudder with revulsion. Why did he kill them? What was the point? Yes, to grow stronger. Yes, to serve Frieza. Two goals, two purposes that were mutually exclusive. Eventually one of them would win out over the other, and Vegeta feared it would be the latter. If that were true, then it really was pointless to kill these people. Their deaths would be in vain. While he might not have ever cared before, he couldn't dismiss the feeling that it was all very wrong.

By the time he touched down at the space pods, he decided he would have to kill more, even more ruthlessly, and eradicate the conscience that had taken up residence in his mind. His conscience. That was laughable. He gave that up when he was a young boy, when he was forced to accompany others on purge missions. In order to kill, he had to break free from traditional moral constraints. That meant abandoning any ethical values that told him it was unacceptable to kill people. He was going to destroy these foolish feelings of guilt, doubt, and regret. The people on this planet were nothing. Scum. If he wanted to kill them for his own benefit, they should be honored. He was the Prince of all Saiyans. He lived by no man's rules. And no stupid voice in the back of his head was going to convince him otherwise.

…

Bulma slammed her history book shut and sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair and propping up her feet on her desk. She ran her hands through her long hair and stared at the ceiling. She was tired of studying. It wasn't as if she was learning anything new or interesting anyway. But until she finished the assigned reading she wouldn't be able to truthfully tell her mother that she had finished all of her homework. And until she finished that, she wasn't allowed to train. She frowned and crossed her arms over her stomach.

'It's been years. Two whole years. Is he ever going to come back to us? I miss him so much.' Bulma sighed again and gazed out her balcony doors. The colors of autumn were in their most brilliant shades. She could hear the wind blowing through the dying leaves, the normal rustle a bit more scratchy than before. 'He's probably gone for good. I don't want to believe it, but he'd be back by now if he was coming back at all. But can I really give up hope on him so easily? He never said he'd be able to return soon. Maybe he's just been delayed.'

Whenever Bulma started to doubt her friend's promise she would get a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach. She refused to lose faith in him. He wouldn't have bothered promising to return if he didn't intend to. He wasn't that kind of person. He always did what he said he was going to do. He'd mentioned a few times that he was going to kill the creep who abused him. While she prayed that wasn't true, she also remembered he said it would take a long time to become strong enough to accomplish that goal. Maybe, wherever he was, he was training hard to get stronger. She couldn't imagine anyone being so strong as to hold their own against Vegeta. He was a kid and he was incredible. Strong, fast, and he had that ki ability she still couldn't figure out. She would have to remain patient. He had a lot to do. He needed time. If two years wasn't enough, then he wouldn't be back yet. He would come as soon as he possibly could, she was sure of it.

'Unless he forgot about me.' Bulma shook her head and scowled at the wall. 'No, he can't have forgotten about me and my parents! He cared about us, didn't he?'

Bulma stretched her arms over her head and groaned when her elbows and shoulders cracked. She sounded more like an old woman than a young adolescent, she thought. She shoved her history textbook off her desk and glared at it as it fell open on the floor, imploring she read more of it. She was done studying. She didn't care anymore. She wanted to go to the indoor garden and train for a while. Exercising made the dull aches and pains in her joints from sitting too long ease up. And right now she was feeling pretty achy. It made her pretty grouchy, too.

Thinking about Vegeta wasn't going to make her feel any better, that was for sure. He was long gone. She still wished he would return before she finished school so she could have a friend with her for at least a couple years. Though she had to admit, once she reached high school the amount of bullying she endured had decreased significantly. Apparently everyone else was so wrapped up in their own drama that they didn't have time to spend patronizing her. Besides, it was freshmen mating season. All her peers were busy pairing off into couples that would last one or two weeks and then they would find a new boyfriend or girlfriend and start over again. She wasn't a part of it. She had no interest in the boys in her school. They were all a bunch of immature idiots. As her father said, they were still in their larval stage and wouldn't grow out of it until they were at least in their early twenties. That was a long time to wait to find someone to date.

The blue-haired girl pulled off her school clothes and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top before going downstairs to the garden to train for a while before dinner. She only had lessons at the dojo twice a week. It was up to her to keep in shape the remaining five days. It had really boosted her confidence when she first started lessons and was quickly moved from beginner classes to intermediate. Vegeta had done a better job teaching her than she ever would have given him credit for. He hardly ever helped her other than demonstrating what to do, making her practice it a few hundred times, and having her 'spar' with him to make sure she had mastered whatever technique she was learning. But, her personal lessons had paid off. She was much more advanced than she expected. In fact, the techniques she knew astounded her teachers. They claimed they had never seen them performed before. That alone gave her a good dose of pride.

She silently thanked Vegeta for what he had taught her. Not wanting to get rusty in those particular techniques, she made sure to practice them daily, to the point of neglecting what she was learning at the dojo. She sat down on the ground to stretch before starting her workout. There was no point in getting so sore it was hard to move the next day. She'd done that a time or two when she was too eager to get started to take the time to warm up. She regretted that decision each time she made it.

Bulma stood up and moved into the fighting stance Vegeta taught her. She was worried that she was forgetting how to do it properly. It was starting to feel awkward to her. Of course, Vegeta had explained when he was teaching it to her that it was proper for her height, weight, and reach. Maybe that was the problem. She was growing taller, so her arms and legs were longer and she had a longer reach than before. With her added height her weight was increasing as well, making her center of balance change. But even if she knew why her stance didn't feel right anymore, she wasn't sure how to go about fixing it to meet her current needs.

'Guess I'll have to experiment and find out what feels right. It would be easier with a sparring partner, though. I don't want any flaws that make me vulnerable.' Bulma bit her bottom lip as she thought about how to fix her problem. Being heavier, she would need to lower her center of gravity. She bent her knees a little more and leaned forward slightly. She extended her arms further to exploit her longer reach, but that left her sides without as much protection.

She shrugged and bent her arms so her elbows were more to the sides with her fists still raised defensively in front of her chest and face. She relaxed her shoulders and spread her feet, sliding her left foot forward a few inches. The modified stance felt alright, but it would take practice to perfect. Besides, in order to know if it was really going to be effective she would have to use it against a partner. A spar would show her where she needed to increase defense.

Bulma smirked and started to punch an invisible opponent. She definitely liked the new feel. She turned in to a back kick and moved into her kata. The first part of it was copied after her original teacher, but the latter part was from what she learned at the dojo. As she followed her routine she wondered how she would measure up to Vegeta now. No doubt he was training as much as ever, advancing faster than she could ever hope to keep up with. He was getting faster and stronger and she was barely progressing. Frustrated with that thought, she poured more energy into her moves and soon she was sweating heavily and panting as she continued fighting her imaginary opponent.

'I don't care if he's stronger and faster and better in every possible way, I'm going to get better too. Maybe when he comes back we'll be able to have a real spar without him holding back the whole time. I want to show him I'm not weak.' Bulma growled as she shifted her weight to her right foot and lifted her left leg for a side kick.

"Oh, goodness!"

Bulma nearly fell over when she saw her mother standing next to her. She had almost kicked her. She regained her balance and squeaked, "Sorry, Mom."

"Now, Bulma," Mrs. Brief said, planting her hands on her hips, "I don't mind you training in here, but do be careful. Have you finished your homework, young lady?"

The girl bowed her head and laughed nervously. Her mother always managed to catch her when she hadn't done all her homework. It was like a sixth sense with her or something. She shook her head slowly. "No, but I'm almost done. And anyway, I couldn't concentrate. I had to burn off some energy. I promise I'll get it done right after dinner."

Mrs. Brief frowned. Bulma had been slacking on her assignments more than usual lately. All she wanted to do was train, watch TV, and work on her silly inventions.

"Alright, dear. Just make sure you get it done. You don't want your grades slipping."

"Yeah, Mom." Bulma traced shapes in the grass with her toe. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, dear. Could you help me out in the kitchen?"

"Sure."

Mrs. Brief and her daughter left the indoor garden and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was not a particularly large meal, but Mrs. Brief felt as though she hadn't seen much of Bulma lately and wanted an excuse to spend some time with her. They had always had a close relationship and she didn't want that to change even if Bulma was entering adolescence. She pulled a mixing bowl from the cupboard and handed it to her daughter.

"Would you be a dear and make the brownies?"

"Yeah." Bulma set the bowl on the counter and dug her mother's secret brownie recipe from the recipe box and started gathering ingredients.

Mrs. Brief went to the kitchen table and started chopping vegetables. "How have you been feeling, dear?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Bulma asked. She groaned when she accidentally poured too much vanilla in the batter. Hopefully that wouldn't have too much effect on the brownies.

"Oh, you know, in general."

Bulma rolled her eyes. She knew what to expect concerning changes in her body. Her mother didn't need to beat around the bush about it. "Every joint in my body hurts. Aside from that I'm fine."

"That should pass after a while." Mrs. Brief carried the cutting board to the stove and pushed the vegetables into a frying pan to sauté them.

'No, Mom,' Bulma thought. 'I expected it to last forever.'

The conversation didn't continue for a few minutes. Mrs. Brief was busy with the vegetables and Bulma was absorbed in her task. There was nothing more than the sound of sizzling butter and the whisk as Bulma stirred the brownie batter.

Finally, Bulma couldn't take the silence any longer. "So what are we doing for my birthday?"

"I suppose we'll have a big dinner like we always do. Or would you like to do something different this year, honey?"

Bulma shrugged. In a way she wanted to have a real birthday party. She wanted to be able to invite friends and family over to celebrate with her. Unfortunately, she didn't have any friends and her extended family was all but nonexistent. She really had no one to invite. "That's fine."

Mrs. Brief started boiling a pot of rice. "Would you like to go somewhere for your birthday? That would be fun."

"Where would we go?"

"Wherever you'd like to go, dear."

Bulma grinned and ran over to her mother. "Really? Can we?"

Mrs. Brief smiled and stroked her daughter's hair. "Of course, honey. It's your birthday, it should be special."

"Oh, thank you, Mom! You're the best! But I'll have to think about where I want to go."

"That's fine, honey."

Bulma was excited about the prospect of going anywhere in the world for her birthday. Luckily for her, her birthday fell on a Saturday so they could spend the whole weekend wherever she wanted. Her parents wouldn't allow her to skip school, but they could leave after school ended on Friday and return Sunday night. It would be a short trip, but she didn't mind. At least she wouldn't be stuck in the compound with only a special dinner as celebration for her birthday. Of course she enjoyed the delicacies her mother prepared in her honor, but it wasn't enough. It was the same thing every year. She had to pick somewhere great, somewhere memorable, somewhere she had never been to before.

She poured the batter into a baking pan and put it in the oven. "I'm going to go finish my homework before dinner." Bulma ran out of the kitchen and went upstairs to her bedroom. She sat at her desk and opened her history book to finish reading the chapter. She skimmed over the pages, not really reading the text. Her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about where she wanted to go for her birthday. She'd been to every continent on the planet and visited many of the major cities. She had seen the greatest beaches and tourist attractions already.

'Maybe Australia. There's got to be plenty of stuff to do there,' she thought. 'I'll have to do some research before we go. Yeah, I like Australia. That's where we'll go.' The pampered heiress couldn't wait for her birthday. It was going to be great. It would be better if she had a flame-haired boy with her, but since he was still absent she would have to enjoy herself without him. She'd managed for two years. She was used to it.

A/N: As a writer, I strive to write believable characters. Yes, I use characters created by someone else, in this case Akira Toriyama. Regardless, I take those characters and form their lives into a bildungsroman*. I point this out because my hope is that you will take note of the changes Vegeta undergoes over the next chapters. This is where the real meat of the story is. I also say this in the hopes that you will comment about it in your reviews, which will help me greatly as a writer. Thank you.

*Bildungsroman: n. A novel about the moral and psychological growth of the main character.

Since time skips are going to happen at unequal intervals, for your benefit I am going to put Vegeta and Bulma's ages at the end of my notes from now on until time stops jumping.
Vegeta: 13
Bulma: almost 12