.::ONE::.

Down in the depths of one of Capsule Corporation's workrooms, Bulma yanked the safety goggles she had been wearing off and tossed them upon the cluttered work table. She took a deep sigh of relief as she leaned back in the creaking chair, taking a load off as she propped her feet upon the table.

"Finally done with those damned things," she mumbled, feeling exhausted.

Bulma, though her fingers were smudged with oil and grime, ran them through her tangled hair, leaving dark streaks, but she didn't care. She hadn't cared about her looks while working since the Saiyan had moved in and kept her locked down in Capsule Corp these past few months. The result of her spending all her time away from the outside world sat before her, staring back at her. Four small, gleaming black robots lay on the tabletop, their metal surfaces polished to perfection, and despite Bulma's disdain for doing anything for that worthless monkey, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment for the work she had completed for him.

However, the repetitive task had begun to take its toll on her. Bulma couldn't deny that it offered a welcome excuse to skip out on mundane occurrences. So she took the bots eagerly each time the big-headed Saiyan waltzed into her office and littered the floor with their scattered remnants. For the past three months, this routine had become a recurring theme between them. Vegeta would destroy the bots, and then Bulma would swoop in and save the day. At first, she loved it, but lately, Bulma had been growing tiresome. Not to mention, his ungrateful attitude towards her hadn't improved in the slightest, even though she had been repairing the bots for him time and time again.

This time, though, it was going to be different. Bulma had devised a plan to spice up their boring routine. For the past few weeks, she had been trying to develop a new design for the bots so they wouldn't break easily under his extreme force. But again and again, Bulma came to a dead end, so eventually, instead of designing a whole new robot for Vegeta to face, she turned her focus to the inside of the small bots. And with her brilliant mind, she had configured new circuitry and implanted them into each one. Now, the small bots could absorb his energy blasts and quickly send the blow back to him. A smirk grew as she thought of how the Saiyan would not expect anything like this, and she loved it! The prick needed to be knocked down a few inches, and Bulma intended to make that happen the best way she knew how. It took everything she had not to laugh out loud like an evil genius. Why hadn't she thought about doing this sooner?

Removing her feet from the table, Bulma swiveled in the chair and stared out the opened door.

"Daaad..." she called out sweetly as she stood and exited the workroom.

In the middle of the central laboratory, a damaged spaceship stood. It was massive, almost reaching the third-floor landing, and it was beaten all to hell. The bright red paint was peeling on its broken rudders, a colossal dent caved in the left side, and each window was busted out. Bulma shook her head; at least in her eyes, the ship was beyond repair. She would have refused to work on it, but her father, even on the latter side of sixty, had agreed to restore it for a friend. His age didn't stop him, and she admired her father immensely for his hard work ethic.

"Dad?" Bulma's voice echoed as she approached the ship, her footsteps echoing through the open entrance. Peering inside, she was met with a dim and vacant cabin. "You here?"

A disembodied voice, carrying through the ship's interior, answered, "Yes, dear."

Curious, she pulled back and asked, "Where are you?"

"Up here, honey." Her father's voice was clearer this time.

Following the sound, Bulma gazed upward and was shocked as her eyes widened and alarm bells rang in her mind. Her sixty-eight-year-old father was precariously hanging off the ship's side!

"Kami Dad, get down from there before you fall!"

Panic infused her urgent words as she frantically searched the lab for something to assist him. How could he venture up there alone, especially at night when the other employees had left for the day? Her father's laughter interrupted Bulma's panic. Irritated, she stopped moving and shot him a glare.

"Oh gosh, honey, I'm fine, see?" he reassured, tapping the blowtorch against his boots. "They're the same gravity boots I created for Goku during his Namek trip."

While Bulma struggled to maintain her stern expression, her father continued as if oblivious.

"They're equipped with powerful reinforced magnets on the soles. Don't you remember?" He chuckled good-naturedly. "Now, let's not dwell on me. What is it that you need?"

Clearing her throat, she began after a pause, forcing resentment from her voice. "I need you to deliver the completed bots to our guest."

Speaking of the alien as if he were a friend grated on Bulma's nerves. She was only enduring this situation because of Goku's request. Vegeta required a place to stay, and naturally, Capsule Corp had seemed the obvious choice. Initially, Bulma had been entirely on board with helping someone safeguard her planet — her friends did need all the help they could get.

However, as days morphed into months, her enthusiasm waned. The man showed no regard for anyone or anything! His rudeness since arriving had only escalated. So, Bulma, in her wisdom, chose not to engage with him. Needless to say, household conflicts significantly diminished as a result.

"Of course, my dear," her father responded with a warm smile, causing the wrinkles around his eyes to deepen as he spoke. "However, not right now. Let me complete the task I'm currently working on, and then I'll be ready to wrap things up for the night. It shouldn't take more than an hour or two."

She let out an exasperated sigh and repeated in a raised voice, "An hour or two?" Frustration laced her words as she continued, "He's been waiting all day already."

"And he'll have to wait a bit longer," Dr. Brief interjected. "I won't leave until I've reattached the injector coil and reinforced the left fender."

Desperation in her eyes, she pleaded with her father, clasping her hands together, "Daddy, please! I'm just trying to prevent him from losing his temper on Mom, who's the only person around right now if he comes out of the chamber."

"Why not ask her?" her father suggested with a shrug. "I'm certain she'd be more than willing to deliver the capsules to him."

Feeling foolish, Bulma dropped her hands, refraining from facepalming. It was obvious her mother had a peculiar fondness for that monkey; of course Bulma could ask her. She scolded herself mentally for not considering it sooner. It had been a long day.

Seeing her understanding, Dr. Brief nodded once, secured his face shield, reignited the blowtorch, and effortlessly resumed his work, sparks flying.

Bulma returned to the confined workspace where she had spent most of her day. Weariness washed over her as she picked up a capsule case from a drawer and retrieved a small pink capsule. With a press of her thumb, the capsule expanded, releasing a puff of smoke that engulfed the bots. As the haze cleared, the little pink capsule nestled among the debris on the table. A smile tugged at her lips as she scooped it up, ready to hand it over and finally conclude her day's tasks.

Passing the capsule to her mother in the kitchen, Bulma retreated to her room. The promise of a nice, soothing bubble bath was calling her name.

XxX

Sweat beads rolled down the sides of his face and into his dark eyes, burning them with every blink. Vegeta had been in the gravity chamber for only a few hours when his atomic blast quickly destroyed the bots. He snarled as he recalled the moment they had practically disintegrated into thin air.

Cheap human technologies, he mumbled to himself.

They were no match against the machines he had encountered throughout his vast space travel. Way more advanced devices had graced his presence than what the blue-haired woman produced from her laboratory.

Vegeta spat onto the floor, coming to terms with the hand he had been dealt. Here he was, a prince! And not just any prince, prince of the all-mighty Saiyan Warriors! A prince wasn't supposed to be helping his enemies protect a worthless mudball of a planet. They were supposed to be cowering, sniveling beings who prostrated at his feet. They should be serving and fighting for him, laying their lives down on the line for him. Not the other way around. But yet, here he was. Vegeta detested himself. How could he have succumbed to this? This was not him. He didn't help anyone! Especially ones he had attempted to kill in the past, and vice-versa.

But he was a failure. He'd had a direct objective, and it hadn't concluded as planned. And not only had Vegeta been outsmarted by some pesky humans, but his pride had also taken a significant hit below the belt once he'd learned Kakarot had ascended into the legendary Super Saiyan while on Namek.

"Dammit!" he yelled, slamming his fist into the salt-and-pepper tile, breaking it.

Shame coated his body as thick as sweat. How could a lower-class Saiyan like Kakarot ascend before him? Kakarot hadn't lived a tough life. Unlike what Vegeta had endured, Kakarot had had it easy. He hadn't trained in grueling conditions on vast planets out in the far reaches of space while under the rule of Frieza, no less. He hadn't combated with a thousand different species or wiped an entire planet clean with a single blow. No! He wasn't the prince of all Saiyans. He didn't have royal blood flowing through his veins. Kakarot was just about as useless as a human.

But yet, he'd made it... He had morphed into the ultimate legend of his people: A Super Saiyan.

Vegeta scanned the area with his senses for a quick second, then quickly recoiled once he had found what he'd been looking for. The three beings were north of the city. Each power level was significantly higher than what they had been on Namek. Vegeta cursed himself for being stupid. The anger he had been trying to control began boiling out, shaking the chamber. He blew out a puff of air, attempting to control himself. He knew better than to reach out and check up on his enemies. Kakarot was getting stronger each day, and Vegeta hated every minute of it. He wished Kakarot into the deepest, darkest pits of Hell.

"Hello... Excuse me," a female voice said, interrupting his thoughts.

Vegeta jerked his head quickly towards the entrance. He hadn't sensed anyone walking close to his confinements, and his loathing toward himself greatly intensified. This was not him! He wasn't usually so self-indulged with his thoughts to where he didn't notice someone sneaking up on him. It was this planet. It had to be. It had to be the cause of his distracting thoughts. Maybe it was the air he was breathing or the food he was eating, though he had to admit, the food here was significantly better than what he was used to.

Vegeta had to get away from here before this planet consumed him. He owed it nothing. So what if these alleged androids were coming three years from now? He should return to space and enjoy the fireworks the androids would cause when they destroyed the earth for him. But no, he couldn't do that. His ego wouldn't let him. If anyone were to kill Kakarot and destroy this planet, it would be him. Vegeta would be the one to have Kakarot's lifeblood trailing down his fingertips in the end as the poor bastard begged and pleaded for his life. That would be the day.

"Ah, hellooo, Vegeta?"

"WHAT?" he yelled in the direction of the door.

The gravity pull began to lighten as his darkened energy jeopardized the room's interior. The blue-haired woman's mother was outside and shrieked as the chamber gave a deep, creaking moan, its structure threatening to snap. Vegeta clamped his jaw shut and blew air through his nose. The hatred that pumped inside of him was clouding his judgment. Undeniably, he knew Kakarot consumed his thoughts too much; how else could she have snuck up on him without his knowledge? He needed to get a grip.

Finally, taking a few moments to calm down, Vegeta pushed himself up from his prone position. He powered down the chamber and exited, no longer feeling the need to train. As the compartment door slid open, he was immediately greeted by the small blonde woman. She stood at the ramp's end, smiling brightly at him.

"There you are, dear," she said, chuckling. "I thought that thing was about to blow! How are you this evening?"

Never cutting his eyes in her direction, Vegeta passed her and walked over onto the small deck extending from the back side of the house. He heard the woman trailing behind him and rolled his eyes. She spoke again as he reached the opened back doors, and the information she relayed stilled his steps.

"I have the bots for you. Bulma just brought them up a moment ago."

She walked quickly, light on her feet, and stopped before him, holding out a small pink capsule that concealed his bots. She stared at his hardened features, her bright blue eyes never showing any fear.

"Are you hungry?" she asked with a smile.

Vegeta gave the woman a sneer and snatched the capsule from her hand. Now that he had the bots, the urge to continue his training routine grew, but his stomach protested otherwise. It gave off a loud and noticeable growl. She giggled, his sneer turning into a broader, threatening glare.

"C'mon, sweetie, I have something almost ready to come out of the oven. I made it, especially for you!"

The woman turned on a dime and strolled onward into the massive kitchen. Remorsefully, Vegeta followed behind silently. She walked around the large island and over to the oven, peering through the small window. She placed a mitt upon her hand and pulled out a sizeable steaming glass plate. The aroma of food instantly hit his nostrils, and his mouth began to water. Vegeta suddenly realized how hungry he was, and he almost couldn't restrain himself from grabbing the large plate and devouring it face-first. But holding himself to a higher standard, Vegeta held his ground and sat at the large dining room table. The woman scooped a large helping of whatever she had made onto a plate and brought it over to him.

"Here you go, sir. Be careful; it's hot."

Vegeta smirked at her words. He slowly picked up the chopsticks, deciding the bots could wait a bit longer. It was time he replenished his energy anyway.

XxX

Most of the bubbles that had once filled the oval tub had disappeared, and some of her body was now visible through the warm, clear water. After washing her hair, Bulma pulled it up into a messy bun, and small strands she had missed were stuck to her wet skin. Bulma closed her eyes as she relaxed in the warm water against the back of the tub.

The bath had been a great idea. She had soaked in the water for longer than anticipated, allowing her muscles to unwind fully. Now, after a good forty-five minutes, she resembled a shriveled prune more than a human being, so it was time to get out. Bulma leaned up and flipped the switch on the tub, releasing the drain plug. Humming to herself, she crawled out, and before grabbing a towel, Bulma leaned over the counter and wiped away the condensation from the mirror. She checked herself out and smiled, giving her reflection a satisfied nod.

Still got it! She thought conceitedly to herself.

Even on the early side of thirty, she looked more like a twenty-year-old. Thank Kami she took after her mother. Feeling smug, Bulma grabbed a towel and dried herself as she exited the chilly bathroom. Once dry, she tossed the towel on the floor, dressed in pajamas, and then slipped outside onto the balcony for her secret pleasure: a smoke.

It was something she kept from the people closest to her.

Well... attempted to keep from them. She was sure her mother had smelled the scent on her before, but if so, she never said a word. Lifting a single cigarette to her mouth, Bulma lit it and inhaled its smoky goodness. She held the smoke inside her lungs for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly and instantly relaxed against the railing. The sun had dipped behind the vast mountain range a few miles south of West City hours ago, blanketing the world around her in darkness. Warm summer winds blew softly through her damp, tangled hair that she had released from her ponytail.

It felt good being outside at this time of night. Alone.

She found that the older she got, the more she didn't mind the quiet moments. Now that she was over the thirty-mile mark, Bulma didn't feel the need to venture out every night as she had during her twenties.

Find her some strawberry ice cream and a good drama on TV, and she was set for the night. It had been quite some time since she enjoyed a peaceful night on her balcony with a cigarette. Usually, Bulma was out doing something with her boyfriend if she wasn't cooped up down in the lab.

Oh, Yamcha...

Bulma took another hard puff off the cigarette, realizing she hadn't thought about him all day. Bulma frowned, feeling guilty. He was her boyfriend, after all. He should be at the forefront of her mind. He shouldn't be something she forgot about. However, being cooped up in the lab usually distracted her pretty well. But still...

"Blame Goku," she said out loud.

It wasn't her idea to have him stay here, and it wasn't her fault the bots weren't holding up against his attacks, either. Bulma had been stuck in the lab rebuilding the bots for more days than not, but she'd found she'd enjoyed the work she was doing. She enjoyed working her fingers to the bone, tweaking the bots to do this or that, churning the gears in her mind, and developing new ideas. She enjoyed getting grease in her hair and dirt under her nails. Nowadays, Bulma preferred sweats and messy hair over make-up, short skirts, and high heels.

Since Yamcha had been drafted onto the Taitans Baseball Team, he was all formal attire and group outings. And, unfortunately, so was she, as she was a permanent fixture upon his arm. Her frown deepened even more, and she took another puff. Yamcha wasn't the rugged young man she used to know. He'd changed.

In his defense, he still was the loving Yamcha she'd always known. He still surprised her with gifts and took her out to eat at her favorite restaurants occasionally, but something was missing from him now, and Bulma couldn't quite put her finger on it. Was the love she once felt for him dying? She quickly shook her head, banishing the thoughts from her mind. She didn't want to think about anything like that and took another long drag from the cigarette.

Bulma yawned, in desperate need of rest. Her mind was slowly slipping, and it needed a recharge. But she couldn't have the sweet, peaceful rest she longed for just yet. Goku would soon arrive to pick up an enhanced medical kit her father had developed years ago. Bulma had been able to tweak it slightly so the pack would quickly and efficiently heal a ki blast wound. Goku hoped this device would appease Chi-Chi for the time being, allowing Gohan to continue his training.

Sighing, Bulma took one last puff off the cigarette and tossed it away in the small bucket she had placed in the corner of her balcony, and just when she was about to slip back into her room, a loud engine roared to life behind her. She turned around to see the lights of the gravity room illuminating the backyard. The door to the chamber slid open, and Bulma caught sight of Vegeta's bare back as he walked toward the chamber. She stood and watched him as he walked, transfixed. Bulma couldn't deny that Vegeta was an excellent specimen of a man.

And, as if he knew exactly what had just crossed her mind, Vegeta quickly turned and stared straight up at her, a frown on his face.

Full-blown embarrassment-coated Bulma. She promptly backed up and blindly reached for the doorknob, their eyes never unlocking. Finally, after a moment of searching, her hand found the doorknob, and she retreated into her dark bedroom, slamming the balcony door shut behind her. She ran over to her bed and buried her face in the blankets, praying to Kami above he hadn't noticed her bright red face.

XxX

"Stupid woman," Vegeta murmured to himself as the door of the Gravity Chamber shut behind him.

He pulled the small pink capsule from his shorts, clicked the top, and tossed it before him. Once the smoke cleared, four shiny black bots sat gleaming on the floor. Not wanting to waste any time with warm-ups, Vegeta headed straight for the control panel, ready to get the action underway. He turned the knob to the desired level, one he was pretty used to and hit the power button. The room instantly turned a deep crimson, and Vegeta braced himself. Once gravity began to take hold, the small bots sparked to life and lifted into the air, rotating quietly above his head.

Vegeta closed his eyes to center himself, and after a moment of collecting a significant amount of ki, he reopened his eyes and quickly shot the blast up toward the bots. He was pretty surprised when they held up, but his surprise was short-lived when they began tossing the ball of energy between themselves as if they were playing catch. His brow arched, curious as to what they were doing.

A conclusion quickly came to mind within seconds: the woman had fucked them up.

This wasn't normal behavior for the bots. A screw was loose somewhere, and she hadn't tightened the bolts just right.

Immediately frustrated, Vegeta took one step towards the control panel to shut off the gravity but was instantly stopped by an unbearable pain in his side. The pain swiftly ran through his body at an alarming rate, and it felt like molten lava was flowing through his veins with each pump of his heart. Vegeta fell to the floor before realizing what had happened to him.

As he shouted out in pain, blood splattered everywhere on the floor. He spat, his saliva feeling like acid in his mouth. His hands quickly pressed against his slick side where the blast had come into contact.

Blood was pooling around his body quickly. That damned woman had messed with the bots! She had messed them up, and now he was paying the price!

Pure rage and adrenaline began to take over his body. He had been caught by surprise by a fucking human! Again! A woman of all beings!

Vegeta only saw red. He knew it wasn't a mortal wound, and once he could stand again, he vowed to let that woman have it, and Vegeta didn't care if he killed her.