For those of you who don't follow me on Tumblr ( notsosupersaiyan) or Twitter ( mightymooseart) this publishing might have come as a surprise to you. I did this as a protest the the general crappiness of humans on April Fool's Day. So here is the very real next chapter. Enjoy.

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

CHAPTER FIVE: THE BLUE FALCON

DECEMBER 31st

Nappa's words hung in the air like a foul odor. There was something about them that seemed less like a warning and more like a threat. Besides, Vegeta didn't need anyone to look out for him. He was doing just fine. He had everything under control.

Bulma had knocked on his door early Sunday morning and invited him to join her for a date. A real date. Just the two of them. As she put it. Against his better judgement he accepted. Okay, so maybe just mostly everything.

He would be done with his "work" long before she wanted to meet up. But...of course, things never went as planned.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as his boots crunched the snow and ice. He didn't want to take the job tonight. In fact Vegeta couldn't remember wanting anything in his life. But here he was. He thumbed out his Nokia and flipped open to the latest text message from the hidden number.

There is a weed in the garden that needs to be pulled. Been so busy cleaning house, haven't had time to weed the yard. Wait until it cools down tonight to go out and play. Can't miss it. It's in the front near the big oak. If you need me call me at 3:59 love - Nana

He rolled his eyes, he understood the purpose of cant but now Nappa was just getting ridiculous. It was easy enough to decipher.

One hit. A personal favor, looks like Nappa was taking on more than he could handle. Typical. Wait until tonight. Midnight. Front room of the house. 359 Big Oak Ave. No stipulations, no warnings. Easy.

He should be with her right now watching some stupid puppet film, not wandering around in a snowstorm waiting to kill someone.

God what would she think if she knew. Okay. Stop. Don't think about that.

He slipped earbuds into his ears and shoved the end down into his pocket, flipping his hood up and disappearing into the snowy night. Surveillance was always easier when people thought you were oblivious.

Vegeta found that the frozen trudge through the snow did not clear his thoughts as it usually did. In fact, the more he walked the harder and harder it became for him to focus. His thoughts darted this way and that, occasionally getting themselves stuck to each other before flinging themselves back down another direction. They darted from the past, to Frieza, to his childhood, to Bulma, and back to Frieza again.

He reached Big Oak Ave at 11:58 pm. Perfect timing, as usual. He took another look around the block, cursing Nappa for throwing this job on him last minute. He wouldn't have time to scope and snipe. He'd have to go in cold, Nappa's surveillance as his only intelligence. He pulled out his phone, the dim blue light reading the numbers 11:59 PM back at him. Well, no time like the present.

When he had left his apartment that evening he hadn't known that tonight would be a night full of surprises. If he had he would've told Nappa to go shove it up his ass, or maybe he would've saved himself the trouble and killed Nappa himself. But hey, hindsight, right? Vegeta had always hated surprises, and tonight was about to be one of the most surprising nights of his life.

Vegeta moved silently through the shadows of the house, under the windowsill and to the front door. His hand slid under his hoodie and grasped the handle of his gun, pulling it free from the back of his jeans. He took one quick jump up the steps and pushed his shoulder into the front door.

This was the first thing that had surprised Vegeta that night. Unfortunately for him, it would not be the last. He fell through the open doorway, barely catching his footing before stumbling through the entryway his wet boots pounding loudly on the floor. His gun was aimed and trained before he had recovered his balance.

The second thing to surprise Vegeta was that the room, the room that was supposed to contain the soon-to-be dead man was empty. It was empty, it was dark, and it was as cold as the night air outside. None of this felt right to him. Something here was very, very wrong.

Vegeta's last surprise would be his most painful. God did he hate surprises. He heard the front door swing shut behind him and he whipped around just in time for the gun to fire.

Adrenaline pumped through his body as he lowered his gun back down. It didn't matter how often it coursed through him, he was immune. The thrill had worn off long ago.

Surprisingly, his hands began to shake and they didn't stop. The man, whoever he was, was dead. Didn't matter now, never would. And one day, Vegeta's life would end just like his, probably in a shithole just like this one. He sighed. Vegeta stepped over his body without a shred of remorse, never looking back to see his face. He slid out onto the patio, the snow was falling harder now. Damn, his hands were still shaking. He shoved them down in his pockets and took a step down the patio stairs. His knees buckled from underneath him and that's when he felt it, a surge of pain and nausea washed over him like a tidal wave of needles staying just long enough to stab through him and be ripped out again. His stomach was on fire. He clenched at it with his hands only to feel a familiar warm gush of blood pump through his fingers. Shit. This felt familiar. All too familiar. It smelt like frankincense and charcoal and the bitter, bitter cold.

No. No. No. Not now.

He was beginning to feel dizzy. Adrenaline was wearing off. He wasn't very far from his apartment, only a block and a half. He stumbled through the snow, trying his best to stay out of sight and keep pressure on the hole that was gushing life from his side.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, you stupid shit.

His mind kept replaying it over and over again. He had done everything perfectly. He had done everything Nappa had said to...Nappa. Vegeta had known Nappa his whole life. He had been the only person from his life before Frieza. Nappa was painfully loyal to Vegeta's father, even after his death and would often reminisce about him. His loyalty and friendship with Vegeta was only an extension of some sick need to be close to him, nothing more. Cleaning house. Too busy cleaning house. It had all been a set up. If Vegeta survived this, he was going to kill Nappa.

He could see the complex now. He blinked the snow rapidly from his eyes the wide, squat log cabin billowing smoke into the dark sky. Colorful paint peeling from the rotten logs.

He froze.

W-wait. Not here….No. This wasn't right.

He was beginning to panic, trying to blink it away but there it was, as real as the sticky blood that stuck his shirt to his side and dripped down his legs.

If he couldn't keep himself rooted to reality he would bring himself back. He twisted his fingers into a fist and pushed it into the wound, it dropped him like a corpse in the snow, but there it was. The door...he was almost to the back door.

Vegeta had brushed elbows with Death many times. They had danced their dance, looked each other in the eyes, bowed, and parted ways. But this, this was different. There was no way he was going to make it out of this one. He couldn't seek medical attention and before he got more information he would not be calling on the service of the Ice Men. The last thing he needed was for someone to try again. He clenched his sweatshirt harder, blood ringing out of the cotton and dribbling into the snow.

Once he died he would disappear from this world much like he had lived, he would simply fade away without anyone to notice he had ever been there in the first place.

But she would notice. He knew she would. Would she cry when he died? He couldn't bear the thought of making her cry. Her honey smile was a golden thread that pulled him through the snow and up the stairs, one painful step after the other. He just wanted to see her one last time. He didn't have any regrets really, dying was a funny thing. His life hadn't really held any hopes so what was there to regret?

His climb up the stairs proved more difficult than he had anticipated. He reached his door after what felt like hours, sliding his hand across the wall for balance he pushed himself to the other side of the hallway. Just one last time. He stumbled across the narrow hallway, colliding with her door. He leaned into it and knocked.

Nothing.

His knees wobbled. It was so cold. He knocked again.

Nothing.

His knees finally gave out and he let himself collapse under the weight of the pain. Of course. Of course she wasn't home. He couldn't help but laugh. Ouch. Life had done nothing but kick him in the teeth since he was a child, why would this be any different. His arms felt weak, he couldn't keep pressure on his stomach anymore. Instead he just held his hand over his stomach, letting the blood gush through his fingers.

The hum of the fluorescents vibrated in the back of his ears. Ever so slowly it drunkenly danced around the whispering voices like old dust dancing in the warm light.

Utekhi, radost' i lyubov'

Gde kupno s zdraviyem blistali,

U vsekh tam tsepeneyet krov'

I dukh myatetsya ot pechali.

Gde stol byl yastv, tam grob stoit;

Gde pirshestv razdavalis' liki,

Nadgrobnyye tam voyut kliki

I bledna smert' na vsekh glyadit
I bledna smert' na vsekh glyadit

Ancient words. Words that ached and creaked like the splintering wooden boards of the old cabin.

As they danced around him, fading in and out they brought with them ash...the familiar smell of frankincense and charcoal...musty incense long forgotten. He rubbed his fingers together, he could feel the soft ash, it's perfect shape disappear between his fingers.

Leaning close, letting it fill his chest with pure earthy fragrance and steal the air from his lungs. Reverently he watched the thick spire as it smoldered and burned, the smoke twisting and rising to the ceiling with the aching voices of everyone around him.

Then….the faintest of sounds….the familiar patter of footsteps and a voice like a songbird.

Ha. No way.

He flung his head towards the stairs letting it rest against his clavicle, his eyes straining to look up. There she was, she had silenced them and brought back the smell of cheap paint and all-purpose cleaner.

She was so beautiful. So radiant. She moved through life with purpose and with a joy that was simply unmatched. He heard her talking on the phone to someone casually as she fished for her keys in her purse.

Bulma hopped lightly up the stairs, as she dug around in her purse. She had called Krillin for general friendship advice after Vegeta had missed their date, not to receive a lecture about his supposed strength of character. But that was Krillin. He meant well, but he was a shrewd and suspicious person. Kinda like an old lady, she supposed. It was probably what made him a good beat cop.

"No, no! I'm telling you Krillin it's not that bad! He sometimes says weird stuff, like, I dunno, '30 ways to kill someone with a shoelace' or whatever but I'm sure he's not getting into THAT much trouble…."

Climbing up the stairs she heard a tlit as she stepped in something. Blood. Something deep in the pit of her stomach twisted, her words catching in her throat.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Not him.

That's when she saw him, curled up against her door, a trail of blood down the hallway where he had stabilized himself, there was blood smeared on the handle, the frame and the door, and pooling around him.

Bulma realised Krillin was still talking. All she managed to say was "A-alright, never mind...I'll call you back…" before numbly hanging up the phone.

She approached him cautiously, like a wounded animal. "I...Uh...take it your date didn't go over too well, did it tough guy?"

Head jerking up at her, his eyes glazed over, struggling to focus. She heard the same dark humor in his voice that she had grown so used to.

"What gave me away, Blue?" He managed a cocky smile, but she didn't meet his gaze. Crouching down next to him, she pulled out her phone. He was both agitated and concerned by this.

No. None of your friends. Don't get anyone involved. Please if I'm going to die let me die here with you. Shit, death is making me a pussy.

"W-who are you...-" was all he managed before another wave of pain washed over him.

"A friend, she is a surgeon….well...sort of…. I know you don't like hospitals. She can be here in less than an hour. You just have to hang on until then." with glistening eyes, she touched his face gently.

No don't cry. Please don't cry.

Bulma unwrapped the beautiful, bright floral scarf from her neck and began folding it up.

"I-I don't understand, your apartment was closer to the stairs why did you have to crawl all the way over here and ruin my front door?"

Was she trying to tease him? It was hard to tell. She was still dewy eyed.

"I...I dunno...I think….I kinda wanted to see you one last time before I ate it."

"Oh."

"...and I'm delirious from blood loss so don't listen to anything I say."

"Whatever you say tough guy." There it was. That honey smile. She wrapped her arm around him and pressed the scarf firmly into the wound. He winced as pain shot through his body. He heard a small gasp escape her lips as the scarf instantly soaked with hot blood.

Bulma fought back the tears that stung her eyes and sat in the back of her throat threatening to choke her. She had never seen so much blood. It was everywhere. Taking a deep breath she pushed the wadded up fabric of her scarf harder into the wound, when she did his body rose and fell with a jerk his eyes rolling back into his head before it lolled lazily back to the side. Oh God, it was really going to end like this, wasn't it? He was going to die and she would be helpless to stop it. Sitting here, watching it happen, in the hallway where they first met. Where was Launch? What was she going to do now? What was she going to do?

Just keep talking. Keep him awake. Don't cry. At least not a lot. Not yet.

She leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Do it. Tell him how you really feel. Bulma, you may never get the chance. This might be it.

"So, wanna get a pizza later if you don't die?"

Um. What?

"Make it three I'm in..." he trailed off weakly his eyes darting around spastically. He smiled that crooked smile of his.

"Deal." She tried to hide the emotion in her voice but she choked on the word as it tripped out of her mouth.

Way to go. Bulma Briefs Self Saboteur Extraordinaire.

She glanced down at her phone, still nothing. Only twenty minutes had passed but it felt like hours. His breathing was shallow and when he spoke it was labored. His rich olive skin was pale and ashen.

She felt the weight of his body slowly collapse into her arms as he struggled to stay conscious. He was shivering violently now and his skin felt cold and clammy. She pressed the scarf into his wound and spoke to him. Talking about everything. Stupid things. Things that didn't matter. None of it mattered. Especially when he was staring death in the face and she could do nothing but watch. Occasionally he would answer. Sometimes it would make sense, sometimes it wouldn't. He told her things. Strange things. Things she hoped weren't true.

"Hold on…" she whispered "just a little longer."

The rapid thump of boots echoed through the hallway. Vegeta had been aware of very little that had happened around him for a while now. A curvy blonde woman covered in ornate tattoos and wearing very little clothing launched herself up the stairs and down the hall. She dropped in front of them wasting no time at all. The duffle bag slung her over shoulder flung forward when she landed in front of Vegeta. She lifted his head with no resistance, and shone her phone flashlight in his eyes.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"I-I don't know. I texted you as soon as I found him."

"Fuck." The woman hissed shoving her phone in her pocket and began pulling a pair of dark nitrile gloves over her hands.

"Launch." Bulma was losing her composure, nearly hyperventilating. "Launch, is he going to die?"

"He's lost a lot of blood and he's going into hypovolemic shock... I….I'm gonna try Bulma." a tender look flashed across Launch's face before she positioned herself behind Vegeta. "Lift his legs, come on we gotta get him inside."

Launch pulled him forward off the door and he slumped to the ground. Bulma unlocked her apartment, shoving everything from the kitchen table onto the floor in one swift motion, then she ran back out into the hall and grabbed Vegeta's legs. When they lifted him he sucked in air sharply, his eyes fluttering open and closed again.

"Launch, why is he shaking? He won't stop shaking." Bulma had lost all control, she could barely see through her tears.

"He's in shock. Grab a blanket. We gotta wrap him up." Launch shouted as she slung her bag onto the kitchen counter.

Once Vegeta was on the table, Bulma ripped a blanket she found off the couch and threw it over him. Launch proceeded to dig through her bag and pull out her supplies: fishing line, x-acto blade, scissors, a stereo, vodka, rubbing alcohol. She whipped her head around as she tied her long blonde tresses back in a ponytail.

"If he stops breathing, tell me. If anything comes out of his mouth turn his head. Keep talking to him Bulma. Don't let him fall asleep. Slap the shit outta him if you have to." Launch barked. Bulma nodded frantically and pulled up a kitchen chair next to Vegeta's head. She began to stroke his hair, biting down on her knuckle in an effort to control her sobbing. It didn't work.

Launch set up a bell lamp above the table and pulled the soft, brown leather belt from her shorts in one swift thwap.

"Fucking Kami on a fucking stick where the hell is Tien?" Launch cursed.

Bulma almost fell out of the chair "W-what?"

"Tien. He's supposed to be here. Nevermind. Here." she tossed her phone to Bulma. "He's under 'Tien Shithead'; text him. Tell him if he doesn't get his ass down here STAT I will ice him."

Bulma frantically began texting, her hands shaking. When she was done she passed the phone back to Launch.

A woman looked down at Vegeta with trembling eyes, the orange cat wrapped tightly in her arms. Her mop of brown curly hair falling around her face.

"You….are my…. lucky star….my lucky...star…." she was paralyzed with fear, tears and sweat dripping down her face.

He was so close, he could almost touch her.

Launch took a deep breath and grabbed the scissors. She cut his shirt open and pulled it off in one swift motion. It yanked Vegeta back into consciousness.

Vegeta's eyes shot open. He was keenly aware that he had no idea what was going on. He heard yelling and crying. There was a blonde woman. She was taking his clothes off? Oh god why was he in so much pain. The room wouldn't stop spinning. He took a deep breath - well he tried. He only managed a measly gasp then violently spat back out a combination of bile and blood.

"Turn him on his side." The blonde woman barked as she pushed him over, ripping his shirt the rest of the way off his torso. It was soaked and dropped to the floor with a wet thwack. That's when he saw Bulma. She was as beautiful as ever….but she was covered in blood. Something in him sank. Her eyes were swollen from crying and tears fell generously from her vibrant crystal eyes. No. No, don't cry. He tried to reach out to her, to comfort her. But she just collapsed into broken sobs. She grabbed his hand and held it in a tight grasp.

"Hey...hey...shhhhhh….Blue...don't cry." He managed a sly grin.

The blonde woman got quiet then she said something behind him but he couldn't hear it. Bulma nodded and let go of his hand. No, don't leave. She must have seen the fear on his face. She squeezed his hand before pulling away.

"I'll be right back. I'm just grabbing towels."

As soon as she disappeared out of view, he found himself suddenly looking at the kitchen ceiling again, the wind knocked out of him. Blood and bile rising in his throat. He struggled not to choke on it. It sputtered out of his mouth hitting him in the face.

Uh-oh. Something was wrong. More wrong than this whole thing had already been.

The blonde woman leaned in close placing a gloved hand over his mouth, there was a look of pure revulsion on her face. She placed her other hand on the bullet wound and leaned forward. Pain electrocuted him sending convulsions through his body.

"Nice tattoos you got there, bud."

Mmmmm. Yep. There it is. Shit.

"I know what you are. If it were up to me I'd sit here and let you die. Shit, I'd prop my feet up on your chest and watch you bleed out while I ate takeout." she added with venom dripping from her voice,"Ice Man."

Vegeta growled trying to swallow the pain. Still under her gloved hand, his body writhing as she pushed down on him. He didn't have the strength to fight back. The room was still spinning. Guttural cries escaped him with every ragged breath.

She leaned in even closer and whispered in his ear.

"Bulma might not know what you are, but I do. This is the West Side and the Ice Men don't belong here. Frieza can go take his fuckboys somewhere else. Go rape another city. West City doesn't belong to you. The White Cranes and the Z Fighters own these streets. I'll patch you up for her, for some reason she thinks you deserve saving. But you stay the fuck away from Bulma. Cross paths with me again and I'll blow your fucking head to smithereens."

After that everything happened at once. Bulma arrived back in the room with an armful of towels, Vegeta's hands wrapped around the bloodsoaked, cupcake-patterned blanket that had been placed over him and his head tossed forward violently vomiting, and a muscular Chinese man, almost seven feet tall with a tattoo of an eye in the center of his forehead, burst through the door.

"Bulma. Give me the towels. Keep him awake. Tien, it's about DAMN time. Get your lazy ass over here. Hold his legs down."

Launch shoved Vegeta back on his side.

Tien clenched down on his legs. "Baobei, look." he said pointing to Vegeta's clenched hands. His fingers were turning blue.

"What - what's wrong?"

"Don't worry about it Bulma. Just talk to him and keep him from losing consciousness, okay?" Launch leaned over and shoved her folded belt in his mouth. "Bite down,Vanilla Ice. This is going to hurt."

Vegeta bit down as hard as he could but the belt began to slide out the side of his mouth.

Bulma's cold, trembling hand rubbed his face gently. His eyes unable to focus. He could hear her voice but he couldn't find her. He searched frantically.

Where was she?

Cold hands... cold, cold hands. Staring into nothingness far beyond where he was and what was. Cold hands slid from the top Vegeta's head down his neck, tracing the contours of his throat.

"You have something on your chin, little prince." the thin, small man mused, adjusting his tie. He leaned flinched but knew better than to move away as a tongue caressed his lips and cheek, licking the sticky liquid from his mouth and chin. The acrid smell caused something to rise in his throat, he screwed his eyes shut and forced it back down. But it wouldn't go down.

It rose in his throat and he choked.

"Turn his head." Launch barked, wiping the blood away from the wound, poured alcohol over her glove and shoved her fingers inside.

His back arched. He had never felt pain like this, his mind running through all the most painful experiences he'd had. They all sort of blurred together. He couldn't focus. Couldn't think. Feel. God, he was so tired, the belt continued to slip from his mouth. He was slipping, he could feel it. Like slipping into a warm bath. This was it.

Bulma.

Where was she?

Have to see her.

Just one last time.

Have to tell her.

A sound pierced the darkness, soft and warm like the first light of morning. He could barely hear her sweet honey voice, through broken cries.

"We'll do it all. Everything. On our own."

She remembered. She remembered that night.

Launch continued to dig her fingers in the wound for the bullet, wiping away the blood as it bubbled out.

"Damn it all. Where the fuck is it?"

"Do you want me to-"

"No. I want you to shut the hell up and do your job, keep him steady he's moving too much. You move a lot for a dead guy, dontcha Ice?"

"Launch. You need to be careful you're going to kill him."

"Who is the surgeon here? Me. So shut the fuck up or you're going to find yourself on Bulma's kitchen table next."

"We don't need anything or anyone."

Her voice cracked with emotion. Her fiery blue eyes fixed on his face. She continued to rub gentle circles on his cheek as she sang. His breathing erratic.

"If I recall you had your license revoked." Tien mumbled.

"I swear. To. God. Tien. I'm going to shoot you and I won't miss like the pussy that shot Ice, here."

"Why are you being like this?"

"Could we not have this conversation right now?"

"If I lay here, if I just lay here would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

"Got it. Shit, how close were you standing to the fucking gun Ice?" She turned her head to yell at Tien "Get me the fishing line and the vodka. Hurry up."

It all sounded so fuzzy, like hearing a hushed conversation underwater.

"I don't quite know how to say how I feel. Those three words are said too much but not enough."

Everytime he began to slip under the water her voice pulled him back again. He tried to hear the words. Tried to focus on her face, but the more he tried the fuzzier it became.

"Brace yourself Tien."

Strong hands clenched onto his calves, pushing him down into the table. A face over his - dark skin, icy eyes, veiny scars tracing his skull.

"Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me." the young man screamed as his fists collided with Vegeta's face over and over again.

"Look, look at me. Focus on my face. Can you look at me, Vegeta? Hey, stay with me."

Fire erupted in his stomach as Launched poured the alcohol over the wound. He heard a scream rip through his chest it sounded almost distant like it came from somewhere else. He struggled to keep breathing.

"If I lay here, if I just lay here would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told before we get too old. Show me a garden that's bursting into life."

Her voice brought him back from the darkness. The tenderness of her soft finger rubbing circles on his cheek. It was all so foreign to him. It was a kindness that life had never afforded him. The bullets and alcohol? Eh, that was pretty par for the course.

He felt warm droplets pit pat on his face. He opened his eyes again. Her face directly over his. Her hand in his. Her tears falling onto his face.

"Shhhh…...d-don't cry." was all he managed to eek out.

He couldn't bare that she was crying. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and hold her tight. Tell her everything was going to be okay. But before he could, he slipped gently into inky blackness. He let it take him.

As always, the greatest of thanks to my valiant army of copy editors Hanko, Cindermane and dgschneider for tolerating my flurry of artistic writing and making it presentable!

And praises every be to Stupidoomdoodles and LadyVegeets for inspiring this fic and really for getting me writing for the first time.

Comments are welcome, say hello! I don't bite!