.::SEVEN::.
Vegeta slowly opened his eyes and found harsh, artificial light illuminating his surroundings. He was in his sleeping quarters on Planet Frieza. His narrow gaze swept over the cold, metallic walls and the sparse furnishings of the chamber. The clinical environment always unsettled him, making his return to consciousness jarring.
With a heavy sigh, Vegeta swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet making contact with the cool, hard floor. As he stretched, his back cracked audibly in three places, each pop resonating through his stiff muscles. He groaned softly as he pushed himself to his feet. Moving methodically, he went through his morning routine in the cramped lavatory.
Once dressed in his standard battle armor, Vegeta emerged from his quarters, the metal door sliding open with a hiss. He turned left, making his way down the narrow, gleaming corridor. The hallways, usually bustling with activity, were eerily empty today, amplifying the silence that accompanied his steps.
Vegeta focused solely on reaching his destination, the training room. He quickened his pace. After navigating a few more winding corridors, Vegeta finally arrived at the training room doors he had been seeking.
"Well, well, look who made it back from Earth."
Vegeta barely glanced at the speaker as he strode past the grotesque purple alien and into the training room.
"Appule," Vegeta acknowledged without looking, his gaze fixed firmly ahead.
He moved with purpose towards a large, imposing piece of training equipment, eager to start his routine.
Appule, not deterred by Vegeta's lack of interest, followed closely behind him, his voice dripping with casualness. "Looks like Nappa didn't have the same luck."
Vegeta's expression remained impassive as he adjusted the settings on the training apparatus, and his silence indicated that he was not interested in conversation.
"Tell me," Appule continued, edging closer as if his proximity might coax out more details. "How'd that big oaf go out?"
Without looking up, Vegeta's voice was as cold and unfeeling as ever. "I killed him."
Appule's eyes widened in disbelief, his voice rising in pitch as if struggling to comprehend. "You? But... but he was a Saiyan!"
Vegeta turned to face the yellow-spotted alien, his gaze cold and unwavering.
"Like that matters to me," Vegeta said, his voice dripping with disdain. "He was sniffling like a weakling and got exactly what he deserved."
Appule's eyes flickered with a mix of fear and curiosity as he began to speak. "So, does that mean?" His words were abruptly interrupted as Vegeta's hand shot out and closed around his throat with a vice-like grip.
"Leave me alone!" Vegeta growled, his voice echoing off the walls.
He hurled Appule away with a forceful toss. The alien went sprawling, his body crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.
Struggling to regain his composure, Appule scrambled to his feet.
"Okay, Vegeta. Damn," he mumbled, his voice strained.
Without another word, the alien hurried out of the training room, his purple form vanishing quickly down the corridor.
With a deep sigh of relief, Vegeta felt a brief sense of contentment at being alone once more. He positioned himself before the training equipment and began his routine, eager to immerse himself in the grueling physical exertion. The sore burn deep within his muscles was what he craved, his only solace amidst the relentless pressures of his life here on Planet Frieza.
However, before he could fully sink into the rhythm of his workout, he was once again interrupted.
Dodoria's bulky figure appeared in the doorway, his entrance marked by a loud, grating shuffle. The sight of the pink-skinned alien made Vegeta's eyes narrow in irritation. He had to fight to keep from emitting an audible groan of frustration; Dodoria was an even more unwelcome distraction than Appule.
"Word's spread that you were back," Dodoria announced, his voice carrying a note of mock enthusiasm. "Had to come see it for myself."
Vegeta, his patience thin, ignored the intrusion and focused intently on his training, continuing as if Dodoria wasn't there.
Finally realizing that Vegeta had no intention of engaging, Dodoria lumbered further into the training room. His massive, bulbous form took up the space where Appule had stood, right next to Vegeta. His massive body cast a shadow over the equipment and further encroached on Vegeta's personal space. The fat pink alien watched Vegeta intently as he continued his workout.
"So, how did taking over Earth go?" Dodoria taunted with a smug grin, his voice laced with mockery. "We heard you came back almost dead. I've got to say, Boss isn't exactly thrilled."
The words stopped Vegeta in his tracks. He finally turned to face Dodoria, his eyes narrowing with barely contained irritation. "It's under control."
Dodoria's smirk only grew, his eyes glinting with ridicule. "Is it now? Is that why Nappa didn't return with you? Is that why Radditz was so easily taken out? That why you came back almost dead. Because Earth's 'under control'?"
The insinuation was like a physical blow. Vegeta's muscles tensed as he fought to maintain his composure, his hands curling into tight fists. The urge to strike Dodoria, to wipe that infuriating smile off his face, was nearly overwhelming. Yet, he forced himself to remain still, though his knuckles turned white from the strain.
Dodoria, clearly relishing the discomfort he was causing, leaned closer, his voice dripping with disdain. "Seems like something on Earth has a knack for destroying Saiyans."
Vegeta's gaze hardened, and his voice was a low growl as he responded. "I'm handling it."
"Sure you are, Vegeta," Dodoria said with a chuckle, his fat, pink face jiggling. "Lord Frieza wants to see you anyway. He's waiting for you downstairs in the main hall."
The mention of Frieza made Vegeta's skin crawl with unease. He had hoped to avoid an audience with the tyrant today, but apparently, it was unavoidable.
Without responding, Vegeta turned on his heel and stormed out of the training room, deliberately ignoring Dodoria's lingering gaze.
The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly as Vegeta approached the main hall. His mind churned with irritation and dread. Finally, he reached the main hall and descended the stairs.
There, standing regally and imposing in the center of the room, was Frieza.
The moment Vegeta stood on the first-floor landing, Frieza's gaze finally locked onto him, but his expression remained inscrutable. Vegeta's frown deepened, a reflexive reaction to the sight of the white lizard.
"What's Earth's status?" Frieza inquired, his voice smooth and measured.
Vegeta's irritation flared, the question seeming like a needless repetition. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Unconquered," Vegeta retorted sharply, his tone edged with frustration.
Frieza's red eyes narrowed, the intense, calculating gaze sending an involuntary shiver down Vegeta's spine. The moment their eyes locked, Vegeta felt a searing pain shoot through his body, a sensation so intense it nearly stole his breath. He recoiled instinctively, but an invisible force seemed to pin him in place, leaving him helpless and unable to move. Panic surged through him, his mind racing as he realized he was utterly rooted to the spot, paralyzed only by Frieza's gaze.
Frieza glided forward with an eerie grace, his footsteps echoing softly in the vast, dimly lit hall. The distance between them closed with a menacing inevitability. Vegeta swallowed the lump in his throat.
Frieza's voice dropped to a chilling whisper, each word laced with a sinister edge as he maintained his unblinking stare. "You listen to me, Saiyan, and you listen well," Frieza intoned. "I've been informed about some of the incidents on Earth."
The atmosphere in the hall thickened with tension, Frieza's gaze piercing into Vegeta's very soul.
"Radditz is gone! Nappa also! And you nearly met the same fate," Frieza's voice grew colder, his white reptilian eyes narrowing into slits. "It seems like someone on Earth has a particular disdain for you monkeys."
Vegeta's scowl deepened, anger and humiliation bubbling within him. The urge to punch the smirking alien before him was nearly overpowering, but Frieza's unyielding, icy gaze still held him in place.
"My, my Vegeta, how the mighty have fallen."
At that moment, the door to the main hall slid open with a metallic hiss, and another figure entered. Vegeta immediately felt the constricting grip of Frieza's gaze release him, the pressure lifting as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders. Vegeta turned his head sharply towards the new arrival, but he kept Frieza in his peripheral vision, unwilling to turn his back entirely.
The newcomer was Zarbon, and his elegant, almost effeminate demeanor was a welcomed sight for Vegeta.
Almost.
As Zarbon stepped onto the main hall, his gaze swept over Vegeta with disdainful curiosity.
"What seems to have happened to your tail, Vegeta?" he asked cooly, a hint of amusement lacing his words as he stepped closer to inspect the absence of the appendage.
Frieza's sharp, predatory gaze followed Zarbon's lead. His head tilted slightly as he leaned around Vegeta to scrutinize the missing tail. The scrutiny only fueled Vegeta's growing ire. Feeling increasingly trapped under their combined gaze, Vegeta instinctively stepped back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Frieza's voice cut through the tension. "Well, Vegeta," he said cruelly. "That I didn't hear about. Care to explain?"
Zarbon moved to stand beside Frieza, his lips curving into a small, self-satisfied smile. His eyes sparkled with interest and delight, clearly relishing the discomfort he knew he caused. The sight of Zarbon's smug expression made Vegeta's frustration flare, and the desire to unleash his anger was growing almost unbearable.
"No," Vegeta responded curtly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "I do not care to explain."
Zarbon's harsh and unrestrained laughter rang out. Frieza's frown deepened into a dark, unyielding scowl. A wave of frustration washed over him; every instinct screamed at him to turn on his heel and leave, but Vegeta knew better. Turning his back on these two would be a fatal mistake, leaving him vulnerable.
Frieza's voice cut through the charged atmosphere with an icy calm. "Zarbon," he said, his tone smooth but edged with authority. "Please go fetch Dodoria and bring him back here."
"Yes, Lord Frieza."
Without hesitation, Zarbon gave a deep, formal bow before swiftly retreating up the stairs. As soon as Zarbon was out of sight, Frieza slowly turned his gaze back to Vegeta. His lips curled into a thin, predatory smile, and his expression held no warmth or amusement.
"I'm going to enjoy this," Frieza purred, his voice smooth as silk but carrying a dangerous edge. His eyes narrowed on Vegeta, reflecting a cold, calculating malice.
Vegeta raised an eyebrow, his anger barely masked. "What?"Are you going to kill me finally?"
Frieza's smile widened just slightly, a glint of something dark in his gaze.
"You'll see," he said cryptically, tilting his head slightly as if savoring the moment.
The words were laced with a promise of torment and uncertainty, leaving Vegeta to stew in a growing sense of dread. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a visceral reaction to the danger he suddenly felt he was in.
Not one to waste time with idle threats or games, Vegeta made his move the instant Zarbon left the room. In a heartbeat, Vegeta powered up, his aura flaring violently around him. Without hesitation, he launched himself at Frieza, his attack coming as fast as a lightning strike. Frieza, caught off guard by the sudden and ferocious onslaught, was hurled back, skidding about thirty feet across the polished floor before regaining his balance.
The clash between them was explosive, a frantic exchange of blows that illuminated the room with bursts of energy. Vegeta and Frieza moved with blistering speed, their attacks connecting with resounding force. Each strike and counter-strike was delivered with precision and power, their combat echoing like a series of thunderclaps in the cavernous hall.
After a relentless series of exchanges, Vegeta sprang back with a controlled burst of energy, taking a brief, measured pause to catch his breath. His chest heaved with exertion, but there was no time for rest.
With a determined yell, Vegeta surged forward again, his fist finally connecting with Frieza's face with a resounding punch. The impact was fierce, and Vegeta didn't care if the noise drew Zarbon or Dodoria back into the room. His focus was singular. He was going to kill this bastard.
Vegeta's frustration had reached a breaking point. The relentless grind of serving Frieza had worn him down. He was weary of the endless cycle of interstellar travel and relentless demands of conquering planet after planet on behalf of this tyrant. The weight of this endless duty had become a crushing burden.
What Vegeta craved more than anything was freedom, an escape from the suffocating grasp of Frieza's tyranny. The very thought of being liberated from the oppressive control of the lizard lord was intoxicating. He yearned for a life where he was no longer a pawn in Frieza's cruel games, where he could carve out his own destiny and reclaim his lost pride. The desire to break free from this relentless cycle and assert his own will had become an all-consuming passion that drove him forward.
With a powerful, precise strike, Vegeta's punch landed squarely on Frieza's jaw, causing the tyrant's head to snap back sharply. The impact reverberated through the room, and Frieza's eyes widened in shock as his body was momentarily jolted off balance. Seizing the brief moment of disorientation, Vegeta surged forward with intense determination.
He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his movements fueled by raw, unrestrained anger. Vegeta's hands shot out, locking around Frieza's slender neck. He gripped tightly, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh with a force born from years of pent-up frustration. Each muscle in his arms strained as he applied relentless pressure, his palms crushing Frieza's vulnerable throat. Vegeta's face was a mask of fierce concentration as he squeezed with all his might.
Frieza's response was frantic. With a sharp gasp, the tyrant's clawed hands flew to Vegeta's forearms, gripping them with desperation. His fingernails dug in as he tried to pry Vegeta's hands away from his neck, but to Frieza's horror, Vegeta's hold remained unshakable.
To Vegeta's surprise, his grip was surprisingly secure despite Frieza's frantic efforts. He could feel the soft, yielding texture of Frieza's throat collapsing under the pressure of his relentless squeeze. The sensation of the tyrant's windpipe compressing beneath his palms was both thrilling and satisfying.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across Vegeta's face as the realization that he had the upper hand settled in.
"Ve...ge...ta," Frieza gasped. "Let... go... please."
The pleading note in Frieza's tone should have triggered alarm bells in Vegeta's mind, but instead, it only deepened his grim satisfaction. A cruel smirk stretched across Vegeta's face as he tightened his grip even further.
Memories began to surge unbidden to the forefront of his mind. Vegeta vividly recalled the day Frieza first entered his life, a day that had irrevocably altered his destiny. He remembered the brutal moment when Frieza had torn him away from his father, leaving Vegeta helpless and submissive to the tyrant's will. His father had been forced to comply with Frieza's demands, powerless to prevent his son's abduction anyway.
Growing up under Frieza's oppressive rule, Vegeta was subjected to relentless scrutiny and harsh training. He'd found out later that Frieza's ambition led to the annihilation of his entire race. The Saiyans were wiped out in a merciless display of power. The pain of those memories, the injustice of his past, and the loss of his people were all channeled into the fierce determination now driving him with his fingers around Frieza's neck.
It was time for Frieza to pay for the suffering he had caused, for the lives he had destroyed. The long-awaited moment of vengeance had arrived, and Vegeta was determined to make it count, even as a small, wary voice in the back of his mind warned him that something was amiss.
Vegeta's smirk widened into a full-blown grin as he felt the tangible shift in Frieza's life force. The satisfaction of watching the tyrant's spirit wane was almost intoxicating. Each breath became a struggle, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he gasped for air.
Vegeta watched as the life drained from his eyes, the malevolent glow dimming as his consciousness slipped away. Eventually, Frieza's eyes fluttered shut, his body going limp as he surrendered to the inevitable.
"Vegeta, what are you doing?" The voice was jarring, entirely out of place in the desolate corridors on Planet Frieza.
Vegeta's head whipped around, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the unexpected sight. Standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him with wide-eyed astonishment, was none other than that pesky human punching bag from Earth. Then, not long after, Kakarot descended the stairs to stand behind the human.
The world seemed to tilt as Vegeta's mind struggled to make sense of the scene before him. He blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the dissonance between his past and present as reality unfolded around him. Vegeta's gaze snapped back to the being he was still holding by the neck, only to be hit with a brutal realization.
Bulma!?
With a rush of incomprehension and disbelief, his hands loosened, and the blue-haired woman collapsed in a crumpled heap onto the floor right in front of him. Vegeta looked down in horror. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared down into her wide and vacant blue eyes as she stared blankly at the ceiling above.
Dead.
Her throat crushed by his hand.
Before Vegeta could fully process the situation, roars of fury erupted behind him. The faces of Kakarot and the punching bag were etched with shock and anger as the two jumped over the stair railing and launched themselves at Vegeta with determined battle cries.
Vegeta didn't resist.
Vegeta jolted awake, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. This time, he found himself in the spacious confines of his sleeping quarters at Capsule Corp, a place that, for once, he was genuinely relieved to be in. The luxury of the room starkly contrasted with the harsh, cramped conditions of his past. The expansive room before him and the solitude was a welcome change from his nightmare.
He wiped sweat from his brow as he stared at the ceiling. Nights like this made it hard to go back to sleep. The nightmares that plagued his rest had become a predictable torment.
Vegeta cast a weary glance at the clock, noting with frustration that he'd managed to sleep for just over four hours. Knowing all too well that sleep would not come again tonight, with a resigned sigh, Vegeta threw off the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was cloaked in the darkness of the night, and with slow steps, he made his way into the washroom.
Once inside, Vegeta undressed and turned the shower dial to its highest setting, cranking the hot water to a blistering temperature. Steam began to fill the room, swirling in the air as he stepped under the cascading torrents. The scalding water hit his skin like a searing embrace, its intensity almost punishing. He hoped that the physical pain would serve as a distraction, washing away not just the sweat clinging to his body but also the tormenting thoughts that plagued him.
At times, the nightmares felt disturbingly real, blurring the lines between dream and reality. Vegeta would often wake in the dead of night to find himself standing in the center of his room, his ki crackling around his hand with no recollection of how he had gotten there.
Most nights, his dreams consisted of Frieza and his henchmen, but on other occasions, they shifted to his rival, Kakarot. The recurrence of these dreams only intensified Vegeta's frustration with himself, leaving him seething with anger and a sense of inadequacy long after he'd awakened.
Vegeta hung his head beneath the searing stream of hot water, letting it pound against his scalp in a futile attempt to chase away the remnants of his latest nightmare. When that didn't help, he abruptly shut off the hot water and cranked the cold tap to its maximum. The sudden blast of icy water jolted him awake, shocking his skin and sending a shiver down his spine as he ran his fingers through his drenched hair.
He squeezed shampoo into his palms and began to lather it into his hair. As he washed it out, he pondered the dream that refused to leave his mind. The image of the blue-haired woman, someone he had never dreamed about, haunted him more than he cared to admit. The dream had ended with her lifeless form at his feet, an image that filled him with an unexpected feeling of regret.
Vegeta's frustration bubbled up, and he growled under his breath. He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped it as if trying to pull the troubling thoughts from his mind. He tugged at it roughly. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he closed his eyes, dropped his hands, and allowed himself to stand under the relentless fall of freezing water without moving. The chill cut through the haze of his thoughts, yet the dream lingered stubbornly.
He did not like the way it had made him feel in his dream. Regret?! Grief even... For killing the blue-haired woman?
In reality, Vegeta had tried to kill her but had been interrupted every time—once by Kakarot and then again by that human male. The woman was nothing more than a thorn in his side; her sharp tongue and relentless attitude were a constant source of irritation for him. Vegeta shook his head. His dream emotions sharply contrasted with his waking disdain for her, leaving him feeling confused and a little disturbed.
After thoroughly soaping up, Vegeta stepped back under the frigid water to rinse away the suds. The icy rush of the shower cut through the lingering haze of his thoughts, numbing his skin and providing a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the dream. Once finished, he shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and dried off.
As he dressed in a set of human workout clothes, the calmness of the morning began to seep into his rational mind. Vegeta reassured himself that it was just a dream, one of many that would inevitably come and go. The blue-haired woman's image was simply a figment of his subconscious and not something worth lingering on. He banished the troubling thoughts and made his way out into the hallway.
Vegeta descended the stairs and stepped outside through the backdoor. The early morning air was crisp, and he took a deep breath, centering himself before walking off the back porch. He briefly eyed the patch of grass where they had laid together earlier before turning his attention to the round machine in the backyard. As he approached the gravity chamber, the round machine responded. It powered up with a low hum, its door sliding open with a smooth, metallic hiss.
Without hesitation, Vegeta stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with a reassuring finality. He was resolute in his decision to remain within the confines of the gravity chamber until his troubling thoughts were driven entirely from his mind.