Isolation

Bulma yawned and finished putting on her pajamas. She padded across her bedroom, her bare feet sinking into her new carpet. She slid open her balcony doors and stood there looking out. The warm summer air hugged her body, drawing her outside. The floor of the balcony was still warm from the sun's rays, though the sun had set a few hours ago. It was late. Very late. She should have been in bed at least two hours ago, but she had stayed up late working on one of her projects in her laboratory, wanting to get it done and ready for presentation in two days. If it was completely finished, then she had another whole day to test it for glitches and work out any kinks in its design. She wanted it to be flawless. A new model of generator, it was more fuel efficient than any other generator on the market, cheaper to run, and provided more power than any other in its size category. It wasn't one of her more interesting inventions, she had to admit, but she had been going to through a dry spell in her inspiration lately.

She sighed and leaned against the railing of her balcony. "Maybe it's time I take a break. I haven't gone on a vacation or anything for over two years. Hell, I haven't even seen most of my friends for that long. I haven't seen Goku and Chi-Chi, Launch, or even Roshi and Krillin. Yamcha doesn't exactly stop by too often anymore either. It's probably because of that stupid baseball career he's got now. It's ridiculous. He doesn't even like baseball that much. He likes fighting."

Bulma ran her hands through her hair and ruffled it a little. It had finally grown out to the length she liked best, halfway down her back. Yamcha said he liked it best that way too, but he was never around to admire it. She frowned at the cityscape and turned around to sit on the railing. 'I'm tired of being alone.' She rested her hands on the railing at her sides and looked up at the dim orange clouds. As much as she loved living in the city, sometimes she wanted to get away, to go have adventure like she did as a teenager. When had she gotten so old that she became tied down to work? She hardly ever left the compound.

Her father was having a new headquarters built in the city, but she insisted on staying in her laboratory in the compound where she could work in private. In that way, she was very much like Dr. Brief. He worked best alone, tinkering around in his own laboratory, working on whatever he felt like. Half his inventions he never finished. Bulma used to work with him in his lab, and sometimes she would see to it that those inventions reached completion. Now, though, she was in her own lab while he was in his, and they rarely saw each other during the day. It certainly hadn't hurt their productivity. Still, her self-imposed isolation was starting to get her down. She wanted to see her friends. She wanted to leave the compound, leave the city. She wanted to see Yamcha more, and though she was even less hopeful than ever before, she still hoped he would ask her to marry him eventually so she could start a family of her own.

"Dad even has Scratch to keep him company while he's working." Bulma realized how pathetic she must sound. Her father had a cat perched on his shoulder day in and day out, keeping him company. She didn't even have a freaking cat. No dog, not even a picture of a bird hanging on the wall. Nothing. No wonder she was lacking in creativity lately. Instead of working to come up with brilliant new ideas, her mind was focusing on her lack of companionship. She needed to get out and have some fun or she was going to lose her mind and never be a benefit to Capsule Corporation ever again.

"That's it! After the presentation on Wednesday I'm going on a vacation for a couple weeks. Maybe I can get Yamcha to go with me, and even if I can't, I'm going. I'm tired of the city. I need to get out in the world for a while."

Mind made up, Bulma went back inside and pulled the covers down on her bed. She left the balcony door open to let in the cool night air while she slept. She slid into bed and set her alarm clock to wake her up an hour later than usual. She was still going to feel like she'd been hit by a train in the morning, but at least she was giving herself a little compensation for her late night. She refused to think about how she would have been able to survive on five hours of sleep easily as a college student. It made her feel old when she compared her stamina to what it used to be back in the day. She was almost 25 years old. She was not old. Lonely, yes, but not old. Maybe it was better she didn't have a cat. She didn't want anyone joking about her becoming a cat lady.

Two days passed, and as soon as Bulma was finished with her presentation on her new generator, she rushed from the conference room and raced to the residential portion of the Capsule Corporation compound. She figured it really would be nice when the new headquarters building was finished. The compound simply wasn't large enough to house all the research facilities, board meetings, and employees of the expanding company. Bulma stopped in the kitchen where her mother was preparing dinner, instantly forgetting all thoughts of work.

"Hey, Mom," Bulma greeted her as she headed for the refrigerator to get a drink.

"How did your meeting go today, dear?" Mrs. Brief asked, momentarily looking up from the food she was stirring in a frying pan.

"It was fine." Bulma grabbed a bottle of soda from the refrigerator. "You remember I'm leaving tomorrow morning for two weeks, right?"

"Of course, honey. I think it's wonderful that you're taking some time off. You've worked nearly every day for the past two years."

Bulma brushed some loose strands of hair over her shoulder. "Has it really been that long?" She frowned and tried to remember the last time she took a vacation. Other than weekends, she really hadn't had a day off in so long she couldn't remember. She enjoyed her work well enough, but that was ridiculous.

"Have you decided where you're going?"

The blue-haired woman shrugged as she opened her soda. "Not sure. Wherever the road takes me, I guess."

"I always did enjoy a nice road trip." Mrs. Brief started boiling a pot of water for the rice. "Is Yamcha going with you?"

"No." Bulma didn't feel like explaining. She took a sip of her soda and leaned against the counter, looking out the window at the sunny day. It was inviting. Since her meeting was over, she could probably go outside and sunbathe for a while. There was still an hour of afternoon left before dinner would be ready. "Let me know when food's ready. I'll be by the pool."

Soda in hand, she left the kitchen to go upstairs and change into a bikini. She knew Capsule Corporation employees would see her, but she didn't honestly care. She was the vice president. She could do what she wanted. Besides, the compound was her home, not just her workplace. They couldn't expect her to always be professional when she was there.

Bulma went into her bedroom and changed from her business suit to a blue string bikini, putting her hair up into a ponytail and donning some sunglasses to complete the look. The hot afternoon sun felt good on her skin. It seemed to soothe away the stress she'd been feeling for the past week. Work was tough. She didn't think she was really cut out for holding a steady job. She was too whimsical, too adventurous, too claustrophobic. Since realizing what her problem was Monday night, she learned she hated the confined space in her laboratory. She hated sitting at her computer typing up reports, she hated standing at a work station for hours on end, and she hated that she was expected to work five days a week even if she was the daughter of the president of the company and should have more freedoms than other workers. Deadlines, project proposals, reports, meetings, they were all a drag. That wasn't her style. She wanted to do things when she wanted, where she wanted, and how she wanted. Unfortunately, that wasn't the way the world worked.

She went to the side of the pool and sat down in one of the chairs. She put on her sunglasses and crossed her arms behind her head. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the sky was a clear blue, and there was hardly a cloud in sight. It was hot, but not humid, and she was going to enjoy it after being cooped up inside for far too long. 'Tomorrow I'm going to leave the city. Maybe I'll just go camping or something. I want to visit some of my friends, but who would I visit? I only have time for one trip. Roshi's place is the closest, and I would see him, Krillin, and Oolong. Hey, maybe Krillin's finally got a girlfriend.' She laughed, imaging Krillin standing next to a pretty girl over a head taller than him. Poor guy, he was just so short and bald. Combine that with his terrible jokes… Who would want to date that?

It was decided then. She was going to visit Master Roshi. She smiled. It had been almost three years since she had seen any of them. This year there wasn't even going to be a World Martial Arts Tournament, so that wouldn't bring all her friends together like usual. After the whole Piccolo Jr. fiasco, it was decided the WMAT might discontinue entirely. That was still being debated. In any case, it would be at least another three years before the next tournament if it happened. That was too long to wait to see her friends. Maybe she would have to arrange for them all to meet up again sometime. She mused over the idea the rest of the day and it was the last thing she thought about before going to bed later that night.

The next morning, Bulma woke up early and finished packing her suitcase. She stopped in front of her vanity and fixed her hair, made her sure makeup was perfect, and put on her jewelry. She winked at her reflection and pulled her suitcase out of her room. It thumped down the stairs behind her. Even though it was still early in her opinion, she was excited enough about leaving that she didn't feel tired. She went into the kitchen and grabbed two pieces of toast and a strip of bacon that her mother was setting on the table.

"Oh, honey, aren't you staying for breakfast?" Mrs. Brief asked.

Bulma swallowed her bite of bacon and shook her head. "Nope. I got to get going. Oh good, there's coffee made." She took a tumbler out of cupboard and filled it with coffee for her trip. "Thanks, Mom." She kissed her mother's cheek and waved as she rushed out of the kitchen. She nearly bumped into her father as he made his way into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Bulma, dear, where are you running off to?"

She chuckled and hugged him, careful not to get butter from her toast on his lab coat. "I'm going on a vacation, remember? I'll see you in a couple weeks. Bye, Daddy."

"I suppose I forgot," he muttered as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Bulma rolled her eyes with a smile and put the second piece of toast in her mouth to free her hand so she could grab her suitcase and went outside. She stopped in the driveway and pulled a capsule out of her pocket and tossed it on the ground. She opened the door of the small plane that appeared, heaved her suitcase in, and climbed into the pilot seat. It was time to get out of West City. She put her coffee in the cup holder and fired up the engine. She as barely able to rein in her excitement as she took off for Master Roshi's island, ready for a well-deserved break from Capsule Corporation.

'It's Yamcha's loss that he doesn't get to see Krillin.' She was a little hurt that Yamcha decided to stay in West City instead of going with her, but he told her he couldn't just leave in the middle of baseball season. He was the Taitans' star player and needed to be there for every game. She thought it was a silly sport he hardly enjoyed, but that didn't sway him. He was dedicated to it, if only to pay the bills. She would have gladly given him the amount of money he would be losing by taking a two week vacation, but he wouldn't accept it from her anyway. 'Oh well. We'll have to take a trip during the off season.'

The flight to Master Roshi's island took over three hours, so it was midmorning by the time she touched down on the little beach. Roshi was, as usual, sitting outside reading a girly magazine. He stood up when he saw her plane and waved his greeting. Krillin ran out of the house to see who was visiting and cheered when he saw Bulma hopping out of her jet. She capsulated it and returned it to her pocket.

"Bulma!" Krillin shouted from the door, "What brings you out here?"

"Hey, Krillin." Bulma picked up her suitcase and went inside. "I got tired of city life. I decided to take a couple weeks off. Mind if I crash here?"

Krillin grinned. "That's fine with me, but you should ask Master Roshi, not me."

She snorted. "I know he won't have any problem with me staying here. He'll think of it as an opportunity to perv on me."

He laughed and took her suitcase from her. "Why don't you find Turtle? I'm sure he'd be glad to see you too. I'll take this upstairs."

"Thanks, Krillin."

When he disappeared up the flight of stairs, Bulma went to the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the refrigerator. 'Man, I need to stop drinking this crap. It's going to make me fat.' With a shrug, she opened the bottle and started drinking it. She never liked soda much before, but lately she couldn't seem to stop drinking it. At least it gave her motivation to keep up her regular exercise. When she finished her drink, she went outside and found Turtle on the other side of the island from where Roshi was sitting. She greeted him and they talked a few minutes.

"Did Yamcha come with you?" Turtle asked after a while, glancing around to see if he was there.

She frowned. "No. He'd rather play baseball."

"Is that where he is?" Bulma turned and saw Master Roshi walking around the house to join their conversation. He must have finished 'reading' his magazine.

Bulma brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and scowled at the clear blue sky. "Yeah. He says he can't leave in the middle of baseball season. Puh-lease."

"Well, it sure was nice of you to come visit an old hermit," Roshi said, coming a little too close to her chest for her comfort. She smacked him, knocking him over. He fell face-first in the sand.

"Sometimes I wonder why I bother." Bulma couldn't contain her grin as Roshi sat up and shook the sand out of his beard. He was an old pervert, to say the least, but she had become used to his antics. Even though she had to constantly defend herself from his groping hands, he was full of wisdom and he was truly caring, a good friend to have. Besides, she had him to thank for learning how to use her ki in fighting. Not that she used that ability too often anymore. After the last World Martial Arts Tournament she had essentially given up martial arts. Not because she was discouraged by being so outclassed by all her friends, but because she simply lost interest. There were more important matters to attend to, namely helping run a huge corporation.

Roshi stood up and brushed the sand from his shirt and shorts. Another failed attempt to touch the luscious curves of his young lady friend had him disappointed, but he wasn't surprised. The day she accidentally revealed herself to him when she thought she was wearing underwear was the last time he was ever going to get anything from her. That didn't mean he would ever stop trying though. "What do you say we go inside and have a drink and catch up?"

Bulma nodded. "I'd like that."

…

Vegeta was heading for Frieza's ship after finishing another purge. He was restless. There weren't many inhabitants on the planet, and they weren't very strong. It had been several months since he last had a decent challenge on one of his assignments. He was burning with excess energy. He clenched and unclenched his fists, examining his hands as he sat in his pod. So much power coursed through his veins, pumping through every muscle fiber in his body. But it was never enough. It would take ten days to return to the ship from his current location. Ten days wasn't long, so he decided against stasis. He would be bored, but he didn't feel like dealing with the grogginess that came with stasis when it was only a short journey.

Three days passed before he received a transmission from the technicians of Frieza's ship. "Vegeta, sir, your pod is being rerouted to a planet in the next star system. Lord Frieza has received an offer from the king of a nearby planet to purchase the planet. Clear it of all sentient life forms. The landscape is to be left unmarred and the indigenous wildlife is requested to be left unharmed. The planet to purge is 8067HH."

Vegeta groaned. He hated purges where he was supposed to keep from destroying much of anything. It was difficult, time consuming, and boring. Aside from those setbacks, Nappa had the nasty habit of destroying everything in his path before checking to see if there were orders given not to. He saw the coordinates changing on the screen. He didn't like how the coordinates that he entered could be overridden from the lizard's ship. "How long before arrival?"

"Six weeks."

He glared at the new coordinates. He wasn't going to stay awake for six weeks even if he could. He had hoped to avoid using stasis for a while, but it looked like he didn't have a choice in the matter. With a sigh, he entered the command to enter stasis. He sank into his long slumber a few minutes later.

What felt like minutes later, Vegeta roused from his sleep and yawned. He shook his head, trying to clear the fogginess in his head. It slowly lifted. Through the porthole he could see the planet, his next destination, growing closer. It didn't look like an impressive planet from where he was, but maybe it was better from the ground view. Not that it mattered to him what it looked like. If some idiot race wanted to purchase the planet, more power to them. His job was to clear the planet of life, not critique it. Probably the idiots ruined their own planet with excessive pollution or procreation. Maybe the planet they resided on now was experiencing a drought or other natural disaster that made life difficult; maybe they used all the natural resources available and needed a new place to live in order to survive. It didn't matter what the reason was. They were willing to buy a new planet so he was going to purge one for them. He thought they were probably weakling fools if they couldn't do it themselves, but at least he had something to do.

Within ten minutes he and the other saiyans had landed on the planet in a wilderness already filled with craters. That way they couldn't be accused of ruining any of the landscape. Vegeta was the first to emerge from his space pod, and as soon as Nappa and Raditz got out of theirs he warned them not to leave a single mark on the planet aside from leaving dead bodies in their wake. "And don't you dare let any natives get away or I'll personally kill you."

"Yes, sir." Nappa and Raditz took off in opposite directions after locating the cities with their scouters. It seemed they were on another planet where everyone lived in large urban areas. There were no energy signals from anywhere but the cities. That made purges quick and easy when they didn't have to hunt down individuals living in the wilderness far from civilization.

'They'd damn well better not fuck this up,' Vegeta thought as he headed north to the nearest city. He made sure both Nappa and Raditz were aware of his impatience with their mistakes. One more and he would blast the both of them into the next dimension. He didn't care whose fault it was, he was tired of paying for their idiocy. Keeping the last two of his race alive wasn't worth the hassle anymore. If they proved themselves to be less than useful, he would kill them to rid himself of the liability. Frieza wouldn't care if he killed them anyway.

He had long since given up considering them any more valuable than anyone else in the universe. They were fools. There didn't seem to be a single brain cell between the two of them. They served him with unquestioning loyalty, but he had stopped caring. Loyal as dogs or not, they still got him into trouble. Even if they meant well, he was still ridiculed and beaten for their insolence. He resented when they tried to help him when he was injured. He wouldn't owe his life to them. They were nothing to him, nothing but pawns he used to serve his purposes. They followed his orders and if they didn't, he would discipline them like the servants they were. Nappa and Raditz meant nothing to him. He didn't care that they were saiyans. He didn't care that they were his subjects anymore. He was superior because he was stronger, not because he was royalty. Since he realized that, he had known only contempt for them and their weakness.

Rejecting Nappa and Raditz was hard on him in a way he would never admit. He was a loner. As prince, he was raised to be free of attachments. He was taught never to rely on others. He was forced into isolation from all saiyans other than his mother and father. He was brought up to be greater than the rest, to realize his superiority. He had forgotten – or at least ignored – the part where he was to use that superiority for the good of his people. In any case, he was accustomed to solitude, at least mentally. For the most part, that is. But when he broke away from the others, something in his psyche changed. It warped, twisted, broke.

The one essential part of saiyan culture he was too young to understand before he was taken away from his home planet was that saiyans were never meant to live in isolation. They were a social race. The royals were the only ones who knew any kind of solitude for the sake of being impartial when making decisions in governance between the tribes. It was this degree of solitude that made them strong leaders, objective in legislation and battle plans. But even the royals had each other. The king had his queen, and together they had children. They were surrounded by the elites, the royal guard. They did not exist in exile.

But Vegeta did.

He forced it on himself when he refused to share his mental link with Nappa or Raditz. He lived in close quarters with the both of them, but he was distant from them, guarded. It wasn't always that way. When he was younger he would share memories with them, bounce thoughts and ideas back and forth, even seek to understand their feelings. He did not enjoy being separated from them physically. Not because he depended on them for protection, but because he clung to them as the only sort of pack he would ever have. No more.

His separation made him feel cold and empty, lifeless. Instead of concerning himself with how wrong it felt, he focused instead on how much stronger he would be without attachments to the others. He couldn't care less if they suffered or died. They were nothing to him. As long as they were useful to him, he would let them live. When their usefulness wore out, he would end their existence. It was that simple. If Nappa and Raditz hadn't been able to figure out from his lack of communication that he was no longer with them, they could have seen it in his eyes. There was a hardness there, something similar to the blank stare of the dead. He was unreadable, unreachable. He had shut them out along with everyone else in the universe.

Raditz and Nappa agreed that something was wrong with Vegeta. They agreed they needed to help him instead of letting him waste away in his isolation. He was practically solipsistic; at times they were sure he had lost his mind. He acted as if they nor anyone else or anything around him was real. Was he slipping into madness? It wouldn't be the first time a saiyan who chose the path of extreme solitude went insane. Exile was considered the worst punishment a saiyan could endure, worse than execution. Isolation was maddening, it was weakening, a slow, shameful death sentence. Yet, unlike exile, there was no way to bring Vegeta back to them if he chose to remain distant.

The planet purge took them three weeks. They found that the natives were formidable enemies when they used their weapons. They had advanced technology that could greatly deplete the saiyans' ki if they allowed themselves to be hit by the strange ammunition. The planet's militia was well-armed and great in number. The pockets of civilization did not make the purge any easier. It allowed for more efficient defenses to be erected around the cities. The barriers were difficult to break through, and once inside the saiyans had to deal with the ki-depleting artillery. More than once, each of the saiyans lost so much energy they nearly fell victim to the physically inferior race. This, of course, infuriated Vegeta. While never willing to accept defeat at anyone's hands, he particularly resented defeat at the hands of weaklings who relied on silly toys to protect themselves. But it was for such situations that Vegeta trained for in the darkness every morning. He trained without using ki, forcing himself to complete rigorous exercise regimens with only the strength of his muscles. This alone was what saved him from certain death during the purge.

Despite the setbacks, the purge was completed and not a single native person survived. The saiyans met back at their space pods and Vegeta contacted Frieza's technicians to inquire about their next destination, whether it be the ship or the base Frieza was scheduled to visit for several weeks.

"Head to Base 35. Frieza also sent orders that you are to collect payment from the people of planet 8065HH."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He wasn't the errand boy. "Fine, whatever. How much do they owe?" He crossed one arm over his chest and raised his other hand to his scouter to cut the transmission once he had the necessary information.

"They are to pay twenty billion arzu."

"Copy." Vegeta pushed the button on his scouter, cutting the connection. He didn't want to hear one more word from the technician. He turned to face Raditz and Nappa. "Go on to Base 35. I have to collect payment for this piece of shit planet."

"Yes, sir."

Vegeta got into his space pod and entered the coordinates for planet 8065HH. It was in the star system so would only take a few minutes to arrive at his destination. His pod lifted off the ground and shot into the sky. The other space pods flew in the opposite direction on the way to Frieza's base two galaxies away. It was a long voyage, taking almost ten absmonths. He wasn't looking forward to going there. He didn't notice the planet he was stopping at until the computerized voice announced landfall in two minutes. He prepared himself for landing.

His pod landed several miles from the capitol city. Vegeta got out of his pod and headed for the city where he would find the head of the government who would pay for their new planet. He found it easily enough and ignored the guards that demanded identification. He wasn't in the mood to exchange 'pleasantries.' He was there to collect money and leave. He barged into the room where all the heads of state were gathered, causing an uproar among the fat cats of the planet's government. He said nothing as he strode to the center of the room and shoved aside the diplomat who had been in the middle of a long-winded speech.

"Who the hell are you?" the miffed diplomat demanded.

Vegeta scowled at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "The planet you purchased on the Planet Trade is purged. You owe Lord Frieza twenty billion arzu. Where is it?"

The people around him gaped openly. They had not expected the planet to be ready for several weeks, maybe months. They hadn't yet collected the money from their people. That was the reason for their current meeting. The king, who was sitting at an ornate desk separate from the rest of the others stood up and addressed Vegeta. "Please, sir, we haven't yet gotten the money. We were not expecting to need it so soon. Give us time."

Vegeta snarled at him and raised his hand. It started glowing with ki. "You mean to tell me that you bought a planet for which you did not have the funds? The services of the Planet Trade Organization are not free."

"Please, we only need a few more weeks—"

"You do not have weeks!" Vegeta shouted. "Pay me now or I will obliterate this fucking planet with you still on it!"

One man who was morbidly obese stood up and pointed an accusing finger at the saiyan prince. "You barbarian! You can't do this to us!"

Vegeta slowly turned his head to face the man who withered under the intensity of his glare. "I can and I will if you do not pay me within the hour," he hissed.

The king turned and raised his hands to bring order to the crowd. "Go and collect payment from all the people at once! We will raise the money for our new planet in an hour's time. Hurry!"

"You had better not be wasting my time," Vegeta growled. He hopped onto the king's desk and laid down with his arms crossed under his head. He closed his eyes. Though he looked relaxed, perhaps even harmless, he was alert to his surroundings. He could hear the murmurings of the men as they filed out of the room, indignant that they were being threatened by such a small man. He could smell their fear and anger. What a bunch of disgusting slobs.

He never moved a muscle for the entire hour of waiting. The last second ticked by and he opened his eyes and sat up with his legs hanging over the edge of the desk. There were few people standing in the room and a pile of money was covering a table set up near the middle of the room. He raised an eyebrow. "Count it."

The king cleared his throat and started counting the money out loud for Vegeta. The other men standing near him looked nervous. Sweat beaded on their foreheads and their hands were trembling. They had no doubt that if they hadn't gathered enough, they would soon meet their doom at the hands of a madman. Some of them were thinking it would have been better not to request a new planet from the PTO. It was like making a deal with the devil. In the end, it never paid. None of them dared try making eye contact with the saiyan. Power radiated from him, and his black eyes could bore through their very souls. Many were convinced he was a demon, come straight from the bowels of hell to destroy them.

"Seventeen million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-eight…"

Vegeta had been listening to the king count the money for longer than he waited for him to collect it from his people. He was growing increasingly bored and irritated. He was tempted to take the money, hope it was the full amount, and leave. But he knew that if he collected a single pora less than the sale price of the planet, he would be torn apart for it. And so he waited.

"Eighteen million, three hundred forty-five thousand, fifty."

A deafening silence spread through the room. Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he slid off the edge of the desk. His hands clenched into fists.

"Sir, please, if we could just have more time, we could—"

Vegeta's growl cut him off. "I said one hour, did I not? I gave you one hour, and you failed. Your death, and the death of your people, is on your head."

"You could take all this and we could pay the difference at a later time—"

"Lord Frieza does not accept late payments." Vegeta blasted a hole in the ceiling and flew through it, then headed for his space pod. He opened the hatch and got in, entering the command to orbit the planet. Once his pod was in the outer atmosphere of the planet, he opened the hatch and stepped outside. He started chuckling. "Here's justice for having another race obliterated for your own selfish gain. Consider me your judge." He broke into laughter. Justice was a joke to him. He didn't believe in right and wrong. There was only death and survival. Strength and weakness. He raised his hand and fired a beam of ki at the planet, aiming for the capitol city. Seconds later the planet was space dust.

Vegeta sat down in his space pod and closed the hatch. It was time to go into stasis for a few absmonths. He entered the coordinates for Base 35 and closed his eyes when he felt his pod accelerating. The stasis gas poured into the pod, putting him to sleep.

"Landfall in two minutes."

He didn't immediately open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was his hunger. His stomach growled the instant he woke from stasis. Finally, when the computerized voice told him landfall was in one minute, he cracked his eyes open and looked out at the planet he was approaching. It was huge, at least three times larger than his home planet. No doubt the gravity would be loads of fun to adjust to. He frowned. His fingers rapped against his biceps. He felt like his stomach was trying to jump into his throat and knew he had entered the planet's gravitational field. The retrorockets fired, slowing the fall of his pod. He prepared himself for a hard landing. Even with the specially designed landing pads, the high gravity would make landing unpleasant.

His pod fell to the soft landing pad and bounced high in the air before coming to a standstill. Vegeta rubbed his head. That bounce made him hit his head on the top of his pod. He opened the hatch and climbed out of his pod. A small team of soldiers stood near the entrance. They saluted him as he stalked past. He turned in the direction of Frieza's throne room to report the last purge and lack of payment for it. He didn't have to wait to gain entry to the throne room. As soon as they saw him coming the guards at the doors opened them for him. He strode in with chin held high and knelt down in front of Frieza's throne.

"Where is the payment, Vegeta?"

"Lord Frieza, when I arrived to collect the payment the government had not yet gathered the money for planet 8067HH. I gave them an hour deadline to find the funds and they failed. I destroyed their planet as an example to those who think they can cheat you."

"You destroyed their planet? Without taking the money they had?"

Vegeta's left eye twitched. "Yes, Lord."

"Idiot." Frieza hopped out of his throne and raised Vegeta's chin with his icy fingers. Vegeta's blood ran cold when he saw the fury in his master's red eyes. "This is why you are not allowed to make important decisions, monkey. You should have taken the money they had. I could have charged them interest on the difference. I don't care if I receive payment on time. You were a fool to destroy them. What if others hear of it? Who will come to me for a planet? They'll be afraid I will have them killed."

Shoving his pride aside, Vegeta sought to save himself from punishment. "I'm sorry, Lord, I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't, did you? Your monkey brain seems incapable of such endeavors." Frieza's sharp nails dug into Vegeta's skin. Drops of blood dripped down his fingers and onto the floor.

Vegeta winced in pain. "Lord, I only wanted to see to it that others would not make the same mistake."

"Fool!" Frieza raised his other hand and curled his fingers into claws and swung at Vegeta's face. He gasped when he felt five trails of burning pain on his cheek. Blood oozed from the wounds. "I already told you I don't care if they pay on time!"

"Yes, Lord Frieza. It won't happen again." Vegeta couldn't bow his head. Frieza was still holding his chin. He wanted to hide in shame. He felt foolish. He could never do anything right by Frieza. He knew if he had accepted the money he would be punished for not taking enough. Now he was being punished for not taking any at all. Either way he couldn't win. Maybe he should have waited longer to see if they could have scraped up enough money. Too late now.

Frieza rubbed his hand against the gashes on Vegeta's cheek, smearing the blood. He moved his hand around to the back of Vegeta head and yanked his hair until Vegeta's head was tilted back painfully. His breathing quickened when he felt the cold fingers move from his chin down his throat, coming to rest on his throbbing carotid artery. The lizard leaned over until his black lips were almost pressed against Vegeta's ear. "Oh, my little pet, what am I going to do with you? Have I been too lenient in disciplining you? What made you believe you had the power to make the decision to slaughter my clients?"

Vegeta didn't answer. He swallowed hard. He felt his Adams' apple rubbing against Frieza's fingers. His mouth was dry, his tongue stuck to his palate.

"I can see beating you does no good. You're too dense to ever learn your place. You are my pet, Vegeta. You have no will. You are mine. You serve me. You live according to my will." Frieza's fingers stroked Vegeta's throat, then wrapped around it. "I could kill you for your folly. Fortunately for you, you're still useful to me. However, you will be disciplined." His hand tightened on his throat.

After what seemed like ages to the saiyan prince, Frieza released his hold on him and stepped away. He was hardly relieved. He had no idea what to expect. Apparently not a beating. Was there anything worse? He watched the tyrant sit back in his throne. Cold sweat trickled down his neck and back. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

Frieza motioned toward Vegeta with his left hand. "Zarbon, take him to the isolation chamber."

Vegeta almost allowed himself to relax when he saw Zarbon approach him with that smug smirk on his face. He wanted to wipe it off him, to show him he wasn't a weakling to be pushed around like the rest of Frieza's soldiers. He shoved that thought aside. What was the isolation chamber? If it was what he thought it was, it wasn't very bad punishment for him. He preferred to be alone. Was the lizard so stupid he couldn't see that? He could have laughed even as he was dragged to his feet and roughly guided out of the throne room. To his surprise, Zarbon made no comment as he pushed him through the mazelike corridors of the base. He was led up stairs, down stairs, through halls, and across bridges between buildings until he was so turned around he didn't know where he was going anymore. Eventually they reached a long, spiral staircase that went down. And down. And down. Vegeta couldn't have counted the steps if he tried. There were far too many. The deeper he went, the darker it became until it was pitch black.

They finally reached the bottom of the staircase. Zarbon directed him to the right. He knew he was in a narrow passageway from the echoes of their feet on the damp stone floor. It was cold and the air was filled with a musty, moldy odor. Vegeta scoffed quietly. He was obviously in some sort of dungeon. This wasn't severe punishment at all. He wasn't afraid of the dark. Zarbon stopped him after they walked several hundred yards. Aside from the sound of a key turning in a lock and the loud screeching creak of an ancient door opening, he was surrounded by silence. He was shoved through the door and slammed into a wall. It was cold. It was damp. He heard the door slam shut behind him and the lock turn. He heard the fading footsteps of Frieza's right-hand man as he went back the way they had come.

Now that he was alone, he wished there was some kind of light so he could see where he was. He felt around, groping in the darkness like a blind man. His left hand touched the wall perpendicular to the one he hit when he was pushed into the room. His right hand touched the wall on his right. His eyes widened. Hesitantly, he raised his right arm. He couldn't fully extend it before his hand bumped into the ceiling. He spun around and moved his left arm in front of him. It hit the door. His back was pressed against the far wall.

He felt his heart pounding in his chest, trying desperately to break free from his ribcage. He couldn't blame it. He knew how it felt. Confined to a tiny space, in total darkness. "So this is isolation," he muttered. He cringed as his voice echoed around him. It was deafening. He decided he wouldn't speak again for the duration of his stay in the isolation chamber. 'How long am I going to be here?' He could only wait and find out. He sat down on the floor, leaning against one of the side walls so he could mostly stretch out his legs. The darkness was suffocating. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes. He opened his eyes. There was no difference. He might have gone blind. He had no way of knowing.

He thought about breaking down the door and escaping. He shook his head. Frieza wouldn't be stupid enough to put him somewhere he could get out of. He pulled off his glove on his right hand and touched his cheek. He felt the rough scabs forming where Frieza cut his face. He sighed. Hopefully that wouldn't leave scars since he obviously wasn't getting access to a regeneration tank. He wasn't vain, but he didn't need another reminder that he was weak.

'How long will I be trapped in here?' He banged his head against the wall behind him. In only a few minutes he learned that isolation was far worse than any beating. He could practically feel his sanity slipping away.

All he could do was wait.

And wait.

And so he waited.

And waited.

He waited for minutes. Then hours. Vegeta wasn't sure how much time had passed. All he knew was that he was still engulfed in absolute darkness. Periodically, he formed a ball of ki in his hands to give himself some light. His surroundings never changed. He was in a tiny room. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all the same black stone. Water leaked through the cracks in the stone and pooled in the corners and crevices on the floor. There was a green tint where the water dripped, some kind of fungus that didn't require sunlight to thrive. It emitted a foul odor. Weak, but Vegeta's sensitive nose could easily discern it. There wasn't much else to smell anyway. He was tired and hungry. He hadn't had a bite to eat for over a year. Stasis kept him alive, but it didn't provide his body with nourishment. He only knew he had been there for a long time when he couldn't smell anymore. His olfactory was desensitized to the musty odor, the fungus, the very stone. It made him nervous to be losing the use of his senses.

The hours turned into days, but to the saiyan it was one long, never-ending night. The small space seemed to shrink over time. Every time he created light he thought the ceiling was lower. He didn't move from his seat on the floor. He didn't want to hit his head on the stone. Vegeta had lost track of time. He ran out of energy to create light. He felt so weak, so exhausted, but he wouldn't sleep until his body shut down on him. Maybe it was hours. Maybe it was days. A whole year could have passed before he sank into sleep that was just as dark as his confinement. He didn't dream. When he woke again, he still couldn't see. Had he only slept a few minutes? Or days? It was still night anyway. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open. He tried opening and closing his eyelids, but either way all he saw was black. A black that made space look bright and lively. He tried to focus on any sounds he could hear. The dripping of water into a still pool, his even breathing, his own heartbeat, his movements. But he couldn't hold his attention on any of it. Not for that long. Eventually he stopped hearing anything at all. There were no new sounds, nothing to grab his attention.

The days stretched on to weeks. He wasn't sure he was alive anymore. Perhaps he had died and he was stuck somewhere between death and the next dimension. Maybe his soul got lost on the way to the station between worlds. Maybe he had found true reality. He was beginning to think life was a dream, just his imagination running rampant up to that point. He wished his imagination wasn't so masochistic. Why couldn't he have imagined a good life? He would sometimes feel his body, rub his calloused hands over his skin. Touch was the only sense he had left. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't smell. He couldn't taste. All he could do was touch, and feel. Was this real? Had he only imagined the other senses before? What if he was the only real thing in the universe? Was there a universe? Was he some entity, floating through a void, purposeless, meaningless, helpless? In the beginning he had used his ki to create light, but he ran out of energy. Maybe that had been a dream too. He couldn't remember. When he could no longer create light, when his brain was desensitized to the smell of the room and his excrements and he no longer paid attention to the sound of his own breathing or his movements, when he was given nothing to eat or drink for days and weeks to taste, he pulled off his gloves, then his boots, his armor, and finally his bodysuit. He had to feel. He felt the cold stone underneath him and pressing against his back. He felt the dampness. But when his body grew accustomed to that, he resorted to touching himself, sometimes pinching his arms, slapping his legs, kicking the walls, clawing himself, biting his hands, his lip, anything. He pulled his own hair, he hit his head against the wall, he pounded his hands against the floor and walls, he crashed his fists down on his abdomen. He pulled his tail, twisted it, broke the vertebrae in it. He scratched his eyes and smacked his hands against his forehead. For a while he could smell and taste again: blood. But eventually that wore off as well and he was unsure it had ever been real, only another figment of his imagination.

His memories haunted him for the first few hours of the long night, but each day his memories faded, first turning into broken, black and white images, and then they too slipped into darkness. Black was all he could see, all he could think about. There were no images. He could feel his own form. He could move his hands over his chest and feel 12 long bumps on each side of his body. He knew he had a tail, two legs, two arms, and a head. When he wasn't sure about any particular part of his anatomy, he would beat it against the stone to make sure it was really there. When he felt pain, he knew it was real. Pain was the only real thing he could never doubt. And so he continued to hurt himself for the sake of holding onto the last shred of reality he had.

Sometimes he felt a tickle in his mind, as if something was in there trying to worm itself through his subconscious to his conscious. At first he was curious, but when it became more persistent in its attempts to invade his mind, he locked it out, put barriers around it, closed himself off to it. He didn't know what it was, and he didn't want to find out. It was strangely familiar, but something told him he didn't want anything to do with it. He couldn't think of why. It didn't matter. It might not have even been real. There was no way to know. Whatever it was, it stopped after a while. He considered himself victorious.

Then one day – or was it night? Was there such a thing as day and night to begin with? – he heard something. Or at least he thought he did. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. He wasn't sure if he was hearing or tasting anyway. Regardless, something was different. The sensation, whether it was a sound or taste, was growing in intensity. It was a steady rhythm. At least, he thought it was steady. Time stretched and compressed whimsically. Perhaps a day passed from one sensation to the next, then a millisecond. He couldn't be sure. Something was happening near his midsection. Well, it might have been at his feet. It made little difference.

There was a rush of fresh air. Vegeta inhaled deeply. It sounded salty. Then he felt. Ah, the one sense he could rely on, the one that would never fail him no matter which dimension he was in. He felt something on his shoulder. Yes, he knew for sure it was his shoulder. The touch was unexpected. It wasn't his own. He didn't feel anything on either of his hands. He wasn't touching himself. Something else was there. He howled and thrashed around on the floor.

He smelled something shouting at him. It smelled confused and angry. Then he felt again. Something struck his temple. His only sense he could trust faded and he could feel no more. Now he truly was helpless.

Vegeta tasted something different. Well, he thought he was tasting something. It had been a long time since he tasted anything, he couldn't remember what it was like. Still, something was different. It wasn't dark anymore. Not as dark, anyway. No, it was something else. He searched through his memories (or imagination, if that was what it was) and remembered what it was that he was tasting. Red.

"Vegeta? Are you awake? Open your eyes if you're awake."

The saiyan's brows furrowed. What was that sight? It was sight, wasn't it? It didn't make sense to him at first. He didn't quite understand what he was doing when he started moving something. Such a small movement. But it made a world of difference. Suddenly he tasted more than red. It was blinding. He squinted. Everything was white now. The opposite of reality. He didn't like it. It hurt. He could feel again anyway. That was a good sign. He closed his eyes. He felt something, some outside force, touching his forehead. He roared and jolted away from the touch. He felt nothing but air behind him, then his body smashed against something hard. What way was up? He felt around with his hands. His mind was reeling.

"Great, he's gone off the deep end. I think Frieza left him alone too long. I don't know if he's going to recover from this."

Frieza. Vegeta thought that was familiar. For some reason that word filled him with fear. He started to panic. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes again. Everything was blurry. He could make out the vaguest outlines of objects around him. He could taste light and dark. Only the dark was real, he reminded himself. The light things were his imagination.

"Lift him onto the bed. We need to get some fluids into his body. He's severely dehydrated and malnourished."

"Yes, sir."

"What the hell happened to him? He looks like someone's been beating him up."

Vegeta wiggled his fingers. The movement caught his attention. He looked at his hands. There was that color again. Red. He wasn't sure if he could trust red yet. He would be cautious around it for now.

"I think these are self-inflicted injuries."

"Who would do this to himself?"

"Someone who isn't aware of himself."

"So he's crazy."

"Yes."

"That is messed up."

"Start cleaning him up. I don't want to put him in a rejuvenation chamber before he's better hydrated and has some nutrients in his system. As weak as he is, the healing process might kill him right now."

Vegeta flinched away when he felt something touching him again. He growled.

"Bring me a sedative."

"Yes, sir."

Vegeta felt something else. It hurt. He tried to move away from it, but he felt so heavy, so sluggish. Everything was black again. He welcomed the blackness as it enveloped him.

He felt like he was floating. He felt warm. He didn't feel pain anymore. Another wave of panic rose in his chest. He couldn't feel pain? Pain was the only way he knew he was real. He tried to move his arms to touch himself, to hurt himself. He couldn't move his arms. They were like lead, so heavy. His heart raced. He had to get away. Away from what? He didn't know. He just had to get away. Escape. Soon he slipped into darkness again.

He didn't feel warm this time. He felt heavy. It was difficult to breathe, as if some tremendous weight was pressing against his chest. He tried to take a deep breath, but only managed to pant. Quick, shallow breaths. He felt dizzy.

"Vegeta? Can you hear me? Vegeta? Say something!"

That was a sound. He knew it was a sound. It was loud. He didn't like it. It was rough, abrasive, demanding, harsh. He frowned. The words ran through his mind, over and over they replayed until he could make sense of them. He was supposed to respond with sound. He tried to copy the sounds he heard.

"Vegeta. Can you hear me. Vegeta. Say something." His monotone voice cracked and broke from disuse.

"Very funny, Vegeta. What's wrong with you?"

"Are real?"

"Open your damn eyes and see!"

Vegeta shook his head. "See not real."

"Oh hell." Nappa turned to Raditz who was standing at his side. This was why saiyans lived in packs. This was why they traveled in groups, why they fought together, why they never left each other. "He's detached himself from this world."

A/N: What could Nappa mean by that? I creeped myself out while I was writing this chapter. Insanity is pretty scary, in my opinion. (And I have a bachelor's in psychology? Ha.) I hope I succeeded in portraying the feelings I was trying to get across. It was hard to delve into that without making the chapter at least twice as long. Anyway, read on to find out how this isolation experience changes Vegeta! It definitely has some lasting effects on him. Was Bulma's part boring? Good. See the contrast? Oh, poor Bulma working in her lab all day. Then there's Vegeta, who was locked in a tiny, dark cell for months with no food or water. No big deal, right?

I finished writing chapter 44 and 45 today and I've started 46. I'm on a roll! I just had to get through a tough patch, I guess. Hopefully this wave of creativity sticks around for a while.

Thanks to lilpumpkingirl for beta-ing this chapter! And thanks for all the wonderful reviews on the last chapter!

Vegeta: 26
Bulma: 25