THE PRINCE OF ASH AND SNOW

by The Not-So-Super Saiyan

based off the web comic by Stupidoomdoodles

and inspired by the works of LadyVegeets

Content Warning: contains extreme violence, some language, and mention of sexual abuse

CHAPTER TWO: THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

DECEMBER 24th

"Bums. Vandals. Leeches." ChiChi spat under her breath, slamming the metal bowls into the restaurant's kitchen sink.

She muttered furiously, running a white rag over the marble countertops. ChiChi was left alone with her thoughts, until Goku came bounding through the back door of the restaurant like he always did. ChiChi rolled her eyes.

"Honey….ChiChi it's me...Goku."

"Of course it's you. Who else would it be?" Flames licked her words.

Goku had been an adorable boy that had grown into a handsome man. He was tall and muscular with a mop of untameable dark hair. But of all his features, it was his eyes that she found most captivating. His dark eyes were always bright with wonder. Goku was the happiest person ChiChi had ever known, it's one of the things she loved most about him. But, at the same time, he could be childish and clueless and far too forgiving, sometimes to the point of putting himself in danger for the sake of others. Goku was strong, he was the best fighter in the whole damn city, but that wasn't going to keep him alive forever.

She shot him a look full of poison.

"Hey...ChiChi...what's wrong?" a look of concern broke his gentle face, he lifted her chin with one finger, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. She pushed his hand away.

"I just worry, Son. I worry about you and about Gohan. I worry about how we are teaching our son to deal with conflict. I worry that one day," her voice rose to a shout, "one day...you're going to get yourself killed."

He responded by pulling her closer into his chest, soothing her by stroking her long, black hair and resting his chin on the top of her head. He leaned against the marble counter, pulling away slightly so they could look at each other.

"ChiChi, listen to me. Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine. Things are so much safer now than they were when we were kids. Gohan will be fine. Besides, we aren't even fighting today. It's just a party. Why don't you come with us? I know Bulma would love to see you."

She shook her head. "No, I think I'd rather stay here and close up. But," a new fierceness in her eyes. "Gohan better be home by midnight tonight or I will kill you myself, Son Goku."

He laughed. It was a hearty laugh, one that shook his shoulders and tossed his head back. It was a laugh that melted away all her worries, that told her, at the end of the day, everything was going to be alright. Oh how she loved it when he laughed like that, and when he did, she knew she couldn't deny him anything. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Okay, okay! I promise." ChiChi rolled her eyes.

That boy...

Goku hopped up the metal stairs to their apartment in four long strides. Once inside he tried to be as stealthy as possible, stepping over precariously stacked piles of books and broken restaurant chairs. That's right, he still needed to repair those. He was going to have to remind ChiChi to remind him to do that.

He burst through Gohan's door with excessive exuberance snatching up his son before he even had time to react.

"Go, I have a surprise for you."

It was a bright orange shirt with their family name "Son" circled in black and white on the back. It was just like Baba's gym uniform. It was perfect. Gohan's heart swelled with pride. Today was turning out to be the best day ever.

With a swift kip up Goku hopped to his feet. "Put it on. Krillin should be here any minute." And with a mischievous smile he added, "We're taking the Nimbus tonight."

Piccolo leaned up against the red brick wall. The air stung his face as snow fell silently in clumps around him. He took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly. The night was calming down, it was Christmas Eve and nearly everyone had scurried back to their homes to escape the cold and celebrate. It was the perfect time to go out. Inhaling deeply, he spoke to the empty sky.

"Keep walking."

While hadn't heard anything, he had felt it. Then came the familiar sound of a gun cocking behind him, the pressure as it pressed against the back of his neck. He continued to smoke casually, watching the snow drift to the ground.

"Tell me where I can find Kakarrot or I'll blow your brains out."

Piccolo didn't seemed bothered in the slightest and continued to smoke, thoughtfully watching the snow clouds roll in.

"Are you deaf?" the man pushed the gun further into the back of Piccolo's neck, linked with mild annoyance, and rolling his shoulders.

Piccolo turned to face the man.

"Go find him yourself." With a push and a twist of his hand, he put out his cigarette on the man's jacket. The tall, pale man smiled.

"Wrong answer."

Goku couldn't have asked for a happier reunion. It had been years since they had all been together under the same roof. Tragedy had brought them together and peace had slowly pulled them apart. Nothing had been wrong with their lives necessarily except the fact that they now had lives. Fighting was the only thing any of them had known. Now that there was relative peace, life had gotten in the way.

They arrived shortly after 6:00 pm. The old, worn house held so many memories for him and Krillin. It sat on a tiny lot, a rusty chain link fence surrounding the property. What existed of the lawn was long since dead and covered in snow, one giant palm tree erupting from the front yard. In the center of the lot sat a tiny, bubblegum pink shack. It was dingy and old, the paint peeling in sheets, but when the men saw it they saw their childhood. Bulma answered the door and greeted them with her usual cheeriness, throwing her arms around Goku and laughing.

"Oh my gosh. How long has it been?" Pulling away from the hug she caught sight of Gohan. She knelt down. "Well, hello there. What's your name?" He looked to Goku, unsure and clung to his pants, wringing his tiny hands. Goku laughed and rubbed his hair.

"It's okay, son. This is a very dear friend of mine."

Gohan pulled his hands away from his father's pant leg and began to wring them in front of him. Stepping forward slightly, he bowed respectfully.

"My name is Gohan, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's so wonderful to meet you Gohan. I'm Bulma. I grew up with your daddy. Are you going to be a fighter just like him?" She smiled a sweet, affectionate smile that put Gohan at ease.

Gohan beamed "I'm going to be an orthopedist."

Bulma was surprised.

Bulma looked to Goku with a look of astonishment. Goku chuckled uneasily "Oh, ChiChi doesn't let him fight."

Bulma had missed this. Missed them. Tonight was going to be a good night. "Well we have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?"

Vegeta was restless. He told himself it was the weather, the hunger that gnawed at him, the work of the day. But, it was none of those things and he knew that. It was her. It was that stupid plant she had given him for no apparent reason.

What does she want? What's her angle? Everyone has an angle. Everyone wants something.

His mind was swimming in circles. He had been laying on the couch so long attempting to sleep that his neck was beginning to ache.

Maybe a run, yeah a run is what I need. Or maybe a nice fist fight. Yeah…

He quickly pulled on his pants and jacket and stepped outside, running down the stairs with a new found eagerness. He opened the back door of the stairwell and stopped. He was greeted by tumultuous winds and pelting hail.

Forget this shit.

He stomped up the stairs, more frustrated that he had been before. He convinced himself that staying inside was a matter of practicality, just like denying her invitation was. He was practical, pragmatic. Yes. That's it. Definitely.

Letting out a sigh of aggravation he threw off his clothes and fell back onto the couch, facedown.

Ugh.

This was going to be a long night.

Bulma rested her chin on her knees, she couldn't help but glance down at her phone. Again and again.

"Waiting for a booty call?" Krillin teased. She smacked him.

"You stop that! I just invited a friend to come tonight and I was hoping he would. I don't think he has anyone to celebrate with. But it's not looking like he will, and it's already getting pretty late."

She found her mind wandering off, looking somewhere, somewhere that wasn't here. Her thoughts banished by a knock at the door, her heart skipped a beat.

"I'll get it." She jumped up from the couch, almost falling on her face.

"You do that." Krillin teased shaking his head and taking another sip of his coffee. He watched her run out to the entryway as he listened to Roshi's mythical story of sexual conquest. Goku was tucking the blanket back over Gohan's shoulders when he heard the door open, then he heard nothing at all.

Something was wrong.

Lingering in the shadows, Goku moved silently through the dark living room to the entryway. Whoever Bulma had been expecting this was not him. The tall man had his arm wrapped around her throat and a gun pressed into the side of her head. Biting her lip, letting silent tears fall from her eyes. "Let go of me you creep." she hissed through her teeth.

Goku approached slowly, making himself known. He didn't want to spook the man.

"Let her go." A low voice resonated from him that Bulma didn't recognize.

The man's dark eyes flickered up to meet his and he stopped. His hard expression melted loosening his grip on her enough for her to squirm away. Goku quickly swooped in front of her, pushing her back into the living room and almost knocking her off her feet.

There the man stood. Motionless, silently staring at him, his expression unreadable. it had shifted to something between the darkness Goku had seen and the light he had come from.

"I think it's time for you to leave." Goku was getting closer to the man, slowly.

"Come now, Kakarrot. Is that any way to treat your family? And on Christmas. Shame on you."

"I don't know who you are, but you must have me confused with someone else. I don't know anyone by that name. My name is Goku. And it's time for you to leave." The conviction in his voice was pure and strong.

"I'm not going anywhere. I have been looking for you for too damn long now. I'm your brother. Raditz." Something deep inside Raditz had hoped the mention of his name would ignite some long forgotten memory inside his brother.

"I don't have a brother." Rolling his shoulders forward and clenching his fists, Goku's eyes narrowed. He was confused, the man looked not only furious, but offended. He had never seen him before in his life, he was sure of it.

"You must have me confused with someone else, I'm sorry."

"I know exactly who you are. Even if you don't!" Flinging the gun around wildly Raditz snapped back, his voice cracking with sparks of pain and rage. "My God. After all these years, all this hell I finally find your sorry ass and you don't even know who I am." Goku's eyes tracked his motions carefully, waiting for the right time to take it from him.

"What did you fall on your damn head as a kid?" Raditz was screaming hysterically.

Well, yes.

Was this a bad time to tell him?

Goku felt like it might be a bad time to tell him.

Should he tell him?

He was gonna tell him.

"Yes?" he answered cautiously.

"Are you...are you freakin' shitting me?" the man slammed his face into his hands, "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes?"

Why would he lie about something like that, of course he was serious. Who even was this guy?

"I fell out of a window, landed on my head three stories down when I was like four." Goku muttered absentmindedly rubbing the back of his skull as he did so often when he was nervous.

"Well that explains it, you have freakin' brain damage." Raditz was losing what little calm he had left.

It was then that Krillin entered the small entryway from the kitchen. He was easily half the size of Raditz but stood with confidence.

"What's going on here Goku?" he asked with authority.

"Hush. The grown ups are talking." Raditz didn't even look at Krillin.

Krillin stepped forward pulling his badge out. "Excuse me sir, you are trespassing on private property and as an officer of the West City Police Department I'm going to have to politely ask you to leave or I will have to escort you from the premises. If you resist, you will be met with force."

Before he could reach his gun, Krillin slid across the linoleum, knocking into a kitchen chair, his head colliding with the oven. Damn. He was fast.

Raditz turned back to Goku "Where were we? God, your friends are so rude. Oh, that's right. Why don't you come with me, meet my employer, we can chat."

"I'm going to have to say no." Anger was swelling in Goku's chest, rising and falling. He was trying to control it. Why wouldn't he just leave? Goku heard something move behind him.

No. Not now. He thought, his heart pounding in his chest.

A small sleepy voice quivering from the living room "Baba? Baba?" Goku's eyes didn't move from the stranger's as he pushed his son back behind him, trying his best to keep him hidden. Goku felt Gohan tug on his pants leg, Bulma pulled him back into the living room, scooping him up in her arms and shushing him.

Raditz saw the small boy, clinging to his father. When he saw him what he saw was an opportunity.

He flipped the gun around in his hand in one swift move and threw himself forward shoving the stock into Goku's stomach and thrusting it upwards in a powerful motion. Goku collapsed onto Raditz instantly, he would've gasped but his lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work. Drool spilled out of his mouth. Raditz grabbed ahold of Goku's shoulder and drove a powerful hit into the side of his ribcage, smacking into his ribs with the stock of the gun and once again on the back of his neck. Goku felt like a thousand needles had splintered through his spine and sent sharp pain through his fingertips. The world was spinning, he wanted to throw up but he couldn't breathe. His chest twitched frantically, desperately trying to jumpstart his lungs.

Raditz leaned in and whispered in Goku's ear, "Just remember, it didn't have to be this way. You did this." He dropped Goku to the floor.

Following him with his eyes, silently pleading, Goku spasmed on the cold tile. He begged his body to move, to do anything, but the pain was excruciating and it hadn't faded.

Raditz stepped over Goku and walked straight to the sleepy boy wrapped in the woman's arms. He knelt down in front of them. The child trembled at the imposing stranger.

Bulma wrapped her arms tighter around Gohan, he gripped at her sweater and buried his face in her chest. She held onto him as tightly as she could but Raditz ripped the boy from her arms with ease. Gohan began to scream, clawing at his back, reaching for Bulma and his father.

Goku reached out desperately, willing his body to move, to do anything but all he felt was pain...pain and fear.

"I'll be back in two days. We will see if you're ready to talk then." And with that Raditz turned and disappeared into the night.

Vegeta tried to banish her from his thoughts but everytime his mind began to wander it found itself back at her door, at her starry eyes, her honey smile. He threw himself back down on the couch after cleaning his favorite gun...for the second time. Scrunching the lumpy pillow to his chest, he wrapped his arms around it and resting his chin over the edge. It smelled like sweat and iodine. Sighing, he reached over the edge of the couch and flung his duffle bag in front of him.

Unzipping the pocket at the very bottom, he rummaged around until he found a familiar plastic shape. The corners of his mouth turning into the slightest smile. There were only two things he owned that weren't practical. One paperback and this. It was his prized possession. A VHS of Alien. Nappa had given it to him years ago for a birthday gift. He had scoffed at the gift but no matter where he went he kept it close to him. It had been years since he had watched it or even thought about it.

Tonight is as good a night as any, right? He thought as he stood up and popped it into the player. He watched the words slowly fade onto the screen. He knew the whole movie by heart. This was home.

He watched reverently for a time. Forgetting about Frieza, forgetting about the blustering winds that stormed outside his window, and even, for a short while, forgetting about her. He drifted to sleep to the screams of the Nostromo's crew. Just like old times.

Adrenaline filled Goku with hot blood that heightened his senses and thickened the pounding of his heart in his chest. They trailed after him begging him to wait, to stop, to listen to reason. But he would not. Bulma had never seen Goku like this. He was quiet and he worked fast. Fishing through his old room he pulled out the bo staff that he had trained with for so many years and furiously began to wrap his hands.

Krillin was holding a bag of frozen peas to his swollen face, Roshi was trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands, and Bulma was furiously typing on her phone.

"Bulma, this is no time for that, okay?" Krillin snapped, the sound of rapid clicking was beginning to bother him.

Bulma shot him a look of disgust. "For your information, I'm the only one here doing anything helpful. She flipped her phone towards him and revealed a screen full of raw data. It meant absolutely nothing to Krillin.

He knew that. He knew that she knew that. He knew that she knew that he knew that. Finally Krillin sighed and caved.

"Okay Bulma, what is it?"

"It's a bracelet I designed. It has a tracker embedded in it and just before that guy took Gohan I slipped it on his wrist. I told him not to take it off no matter what. As long as he keeps it on we will be able to find him. It's almost done running it's programming." This got Goku's attention. He had stopped moving for the first time, almost out the front door.

"You gonna get yo ass handed to you." a rich baritone voice cut through the darkness.

If Bulma, Krillin, and Roshi could've died of fright they would have. Goku whipped around towards the voice.

"Who are you? Show yourself." Goku was like a rabid dog. More aggressive than Bulma ever remembered him being before. He was done with games.

Piccolo stepped out of the dark corner of the entryway and into the kitchen. His head held up high, his arms crossed lazily across his barrel chest.

Him. Goku's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here? If you're here to kill me it will have to wait. You see, something has come up." Goku said as he snatched his bo and bag.

"Nah, it's your lucky day homes. I'm here to kill the Ice Man."

"Ice Man?" Krillin echoed in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that that psychopath was one of Frieza's goons? Great, just great." Krillin looked like he was about to have a stroke. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

Bulma had no idea what was going on. "Everybody wait one damn minute," she yelled, everyone froze. "What the actual hell are you doing here? How did you find us? Who the hell is Frieza? What is an Ice Man?"

Everyone froze for a moment. When no one else spoke Krillin reluctantly stepped in to explain.

"Well I can't answer the first two questions he's going to have to help you out with that," he said gesturing to Piccolo with his thumb. "But I happen to know a little about Frieza and the Ice Men. Frieza is one of the most prolific and powerful crime lords in the entire world, Bulma. His Ice Men are his hired torturers, hitmen, spies, loan sharks, whatever he needs them to be. They're like human Swiss army knives. Frieza is in an entirely different league, you guys. I...I don't mean to be negative or anything but I spend a majority of my time trying to track down these sick freaks and let me tell you, so far we don't have anything to write home about. For some reason Frieza has set up here in West City for at least the past six months. We have no idea why, but what we do know is he leaves a trail of blood and bodies everywhere he goes. His men are impossible to track. They are meticulous, ruthless. The things they do. The conditions of some of these bodies." Krillin shivered. "There is one guy in particular. He has been taunting us, thinks he's real clever." he stopped thoughtfully, "I mean I guess he wouldn't be wrong. He has the highest headcount of any West City criminal. As far as we can tell he is the leader, he may even be Frieza's number one man. We call him 'The Prince' and he is a monster. I mean we even coined the term 'Ice Men' because of him."

Bulma was suddenly more afraid of West City than she had ever been before but she felt a little safer knowing Vegeta lived next door. "Wh-why do they call him the Prince?"

Krillin sighed and muttered "I really shouldn't be talking about this." He paused for a moment pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb and readjusting the bag of peas on his head.

"So, this guy… 'The Prince'...he has an international file and it's a mile and a half long. I swear. There are officers on the force who refuse dispatch his scenes. He's set up here in West City since June of last year. Again, we don't know why yet. He's been active for around twenty years so our guess is he's about forty now, maybe older. I doubt that guy is him. He looked too young. We have no idea why he kills who he kills. When they first came to West City we found some particularly nasty scenes. He left a paper there, ripped out quotes from a book. Turns out it was a play. Old play called 'The Iceman Cometh'. Creepy shit too about life and death and junk. I've seen so many of his kills I could probably tell them apart from another killer in my sleep but I wouldn't need to. He wants us to know it's him. Everytime he leaves a body he leaves a Feudal game piece somewhere at the scene. It's always the same one - The Prince."

"Feudal?" Goku questioned.

"You mean like that ancient ass tactical strategy game?" Bulma asked in disbelief.

"Yes. Nothing else. He's not killing wantonly. He's not on a spree. We think Frieza's got him on a chain but we just don't know. It's all speculation at this point. For all we know that guy could be working for him." Krillin realized what he had said as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

Goku's voice was flat "Bulma," he turned to her, "where is Gohan?"

She looked down at her phone, "It looks like he's down at Kearney Park. He stopped moving. It's only a few miles away."

"You. You're with me. Let's go." He said to Piccolo and threw the door open.

"We ice this bitch and thats it, this don't change nothing."

"Fine by me." Goku replied with a playful smile.

With that the two men disappeared into the snowy night.

Bulma watched them leave, terror gripped her heart and stuck to the inside of her ribs. She was afraid. Afraid for Goku and Gohan, afraid of the Ice Men, of the Prince, afraid of the West Side. More than anything she longed to feel safe. She wished Vegeta was there.

With a violent thrust it had ended. The small boy held his breath and forced himself to swallow, waves of prickling nausea rolling over him. A clammy hand wrapped around the back of his head pulling him closer. He fought the instinct to push away. He knew he was too weak, too small to fight it.

Just let it happen. It will hurt less. It's almost over. His mind echoed again and again.

After what felt like a lifetime the fingers pulled out of where they had wrapped themselves in his dark hair, the hand finally releasing him. Already on his knees he toppled forward, catching himself before his face collided with the cold marble. The man spoke casually, amusement in his voice. It slithered out of the dark like a poisonous snake.

"You'll be going away for a while. Siberia. I'm sending you there to further your training. Consider this your going away present." He straightened his tie coolly and walked away. The faint, familiar click, click, click of his shoes getting farther and farther. Then they stopped. "Oh. Happy twelfth birthday, my little prince."

Vegeta jolted awake, he had slid the gun from under his head, training it blindly across the room. Instinct had kicked in. He lowered it, picking up the lumpy pillow that had been wadded up against his chest with his other hand, chucking it across the room. It collided with the kitchen cupboards with a muffled thup. Small down feathers puffed into the air and slowly floated back down. The couch was damp from sweat. Leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands. The cold metal of his gun along his cheek provided some relief to his burning skin.

Static hummed on the small television. Rubbing his face he pushed the VHS back in the player and rewound it. He tried to swallow the memories, but they rose like bile in his throat. Pushing himself off the couch he stripped off the sweaty clothes that clung to his skin and let them drop to the floor.

He stood in front of the mirror and he saw, saw himself, what he really was. Just a scared little boy, mangled and broken, covered in ugly scars. Fire rose from his core, numbing his muscles as the flames licked at his veins and charred his bones. The stock of his gun struck the face in the mirror, shattering the image before him into hundreds of shards. He let the glass fall, turning on the sink and splashing his face with frigid water.

One day. One day I'll kill Frieza myself. He promised silently. When he looked back up the child was gone, only the man remained in the shattered glass, made of hate and fire.

AN: Special thanks to dgschneider and Cindermane for being my valiant copy-editors and sounding board. And special thanks to Stupidoomdoodles and LadyVegeets for inspiring this fic. I will be publishing this on a schedule, every Friday night at midnight MST.

I welcome comments so let me know what you think!

xoxo, the Not-So-Super Saiyan.