Father?

Yes, my son?

Can you retell our origin story? I can't sleep tonight. What an embarrassment.

Don't feel embarrassed, my son. I'll retell it once more.

Thanks, Father

Ahem, the saiyan race began on a technical planet named Tuffle. The tufflians don't know when those beasts with tails originated. All they knew was their ravenous behavior. Under a full moon, they transformed into giant monsters, ones which carried tremendous strength. It was that moment when the tufflians enacted a war upon the saiyans.

Years of battling had tired both sides. An unexpected miracle arrived, a galactic ruler and two of his fearless sons. King Cold reached out to the saiyan's rebellious leader, Vegeta. He was interested in their numbers and feats. Cold established a treaty with Vegeta, if he agreed to join his army. That went for the race. Vegeta pondered long, but he decided.

Some time passed, and the saiyans eradicated the tufflians. Vegeta, being the leader who won the war, renamed the planet after himself. Planet Vegeta was born, and the saiyans joined the Cold Force right after.

Vegeta married a daunting woman, and the two conceived a son. He looked exactly like his father. This motivated Vegeta to name his son after himself. Vegeta The Second grew up under a royal family, but his behavior turned cautious. If you thought Vegeta The First was self-entitled, his son beat him tenfold. He viewed all soldiers, whether they were low-class or the elites, as weaklings.

When his father passed through natural causes, Vegeta The Second ruled with a golden tongue and sharper fangs. Any insult he uttered would silence the bravest soldier. It would last for five years until King Cold and his sons made a visit. Cooler, the eldest child, made the visit personal by escorting Vegeta into a private room. Minutes turned into an hour, no response. The soldiers, worried for their leader, checked on him, but heard screams.

Those screams came from Vegeta, begging for the pain to stop. When one soldier barged in, he witnessed a gruesome scene. Cooler, his index finger glowing red, pointing at a battered Vegeta. The mangled face and blood blossoming under his laid body was so sickening, the soldier struggled to vomit. After the 'meeting,' Vegeta apologized to Cooler and Cold, promising his arrogance won't cause trouble again.

It seemed Cooler's message got through. He respected his soldiers equally, except for the lower-class. To make sure he stayed true to his promise, Vegeta divorced his wife. This was after she conceived me, Vegeta The Third. He shared wise morals onto me, such as 'never back-talk' or 'keep your insults to yourself.'

I grew stronger, smarter, and wiser. Your grandfather died during an eradication mission King Cold gave him. Because of his death, I became the next king of the saiyans.

Well, I needed a queen, a beautiful woman with strength and looks to kill a man. I'd found her, alright. Lottus, a mid-class woman. Most of my royal elites were puzzled towards my choice. Tradition said kings must choose a female soldier from the elite ranks. But Lottus was different. She didn't care if I was a king or a soldier. She understood my dedication of keeping our people safe. When I married her, we grew to know each other.

Nine months into our marriage and Lottus conceived you, my son. What's your name again?

Vegeta!

The Fourth, my son. You're the fourth in our expanding family.

So, what happens next?

While you developed in your rejuvenation chamber, a lot had happened. King Cold announced his retirement to our forces and employed his younger son, Frieza, to command. The Cold Force changed its name to 'The Frieza Force.' Nothing else changed besides Frieza's attitude being more atrocious than his father's and brother's. A year before you'd been released from your chamber, your proud mother passed.

What killed her?

That's… For another day, my son.

Aw!

Don't whine! Princes don't whine or complain. They—

Accept and shut up.

Good, you remembered. Anyway, you were out of your chamber and I began your training. It surprised me to witness your power level increasing by the day. Until tonight, you'd surpassed me, and at only three-years-old.

Of course I'd surpassed you, Father.

Now, Vegeta. When the time comes, me dying an honorable death and you taking my place, remember to respect the saiyan pride. It and your strength are vital for our survival. Teach Frieza and his family who's the greatest warrior in the universe. Do you get it, my son?

Absolutely, Father.

Terrific. Go to sleep. Tomorrow is our morning training and your first mission.

Yes, Father. Good night.

Let go of me! NOW!

Crap, he's waking up!

Hurry! Those scientists better know what they're doing!

Where the hell are you taking me!? I demand to know!

Here! Take him!

Thank you very much! Gentlemen, let's get the serum.

Yes, ma'am.

Who are you people!? Why am I here!?

I deeply apologize for what I'm about to do.

Do what!? TELL ME!

Prince Vegeta The Fourth, you are hereby sentenced to—

FIZZLE-FIZZLE-FIZZLE

AHHHHHH! What did you pour into my—AGH! Get it OUT OF ME!

The alarm rang. He sat up, breathless and sweating. The room filled up with early morning sunlight, a bright yellow hue glistening each beam. 'It's that dream again. Why am I experiencing these?' He slammed his hand on the clock, too bothered to look. Every night, he had those dreams. A man who had his appearance, excluding the goatee and age difference. He stated himself as his father and a respectful king.

Saiyans and their warrior tendencies confused him further. A poke on the shoulder shocked him from the momentary thought process. The corner of his eye noticed the alarm clock smashed into pieces. He reminded internally to get a new one later. Now, he had a routine to perform. He exited the bedroom, holding essentials for the bathroom. While hopping into the shower, its steam massaging his skin and muscles, he returned to the dreams.

'So, I'm a prince to a species called the saiyans. My father ruled over them for a certain time. There was a superior empire that conquered the saiyans. Then, I got abducted by unknown assailants. Someone, probably a doctor or scientist, injected a serum into my ear. I passed out and… Ugh, it always ends there, me screaming for whatever pain to disappear.'

After his shower, he dressed up. Wearing a blue polo t-shirt and ironed beige jeans, he stepped out, sighing. 'I'll have the answers soon.'

He strode to Capsule Corporation's dining hall. Crowds of staff members chatted amongst themselves while carrying their lunch trays. His nostrils picked up on several savory scents. Bacon, scrambled eggs with shredded cheese embedded in its fluffy form, and crunchy toast. He needed those badly.

Stomach erupted in growls, as he approached the line. Fifteen minutes and he got his breakfast. 'I've heard Bulma and his father are at the labs, beginning a project. Maybe they'll have a better explanation to my frequent dreams. And where I come from.'

A year ago, he landed on Capsule Corporation's front yard. He was inside an orbital space pod. Upon escaping the molten crater, he grew unconscious. He woke up, seeing a blue-haired woman and an elderly doctor with a small black cat on his shoulder. They were Bulma Briefs and her father.

Unsure how to explain his arrival, he said someone drugged him and that was all. Bulma pointed at the tail he possessed and he flipped out. His tail was the biggest trait which confused him the most. It had a mind of its own. Earlier, it poked his shoulder, then did it again in the shower. It felt like it wanted him to stay focused. Gladly, he wrapped it around his waist, as to avoid more attention from staff.

It proved useful as a belt. He found a red-orange-haired woman sitting on the far right. "Hello, Carmen."

Carmen looked up and saw him, smiling. "Hi there, Vegeta!"

"How was sleep?" Vegeta sat next to Carmen, settling his tray.

"Not good. Horrible, even. Tomba gave me his documents to review. I'd only got four hours of sleep last night."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, a piece of toast in his mouth. "What a condescending bastard," he bit into the toast, a satisfying crunch to his ears.

"Yeah, he loves gaining attention from Bulma and her father. Pretends like he's behaving, and when they're gone, he reverts to his controlling self."

"That sounds like he has bipolar," Vegeta snickered.

"I hate him, but I need this job. My family's financial issues are getting worse."

"Don't tell me your brother hasn't repaid his debt."

Carmen grunted, her hand holding a cup of black coffee. "Yes, he refuses to get a job and forces me to pay it on his behalf. It's irritating, but our parents favored his decisions. They always have."

She sipped her coffee, set the cup down, and ate the rest of her scrambled eggs. Vegeta felt a sense of sympathy towards Carmen. Her brother, the eldest in her family, had more love from his parents than her. She doesn't get that love. Instead, she accepted their favoritism, doing all the work they pile onto her.

"Don't listen to those bastards, Carmen. They don't understand the determination you're showing."

Carmen elbow-bumped Vegeta's arm with a cheeky smile. "Thanks for appreciating my efforts."

A blush colored his cheeks. He didn't understand why flattery shuddered his bones, tickled his skin, and heated his blood. After breakfast, he and Carmen hurried to the garage. They were deliverymen, taking packages customers bought to their residence. Carmen was the driver while Vegeta carried heavy loads onto trucks. Sometimes, he joined Carmen on joy rides, then lift those loads to the customer.

Once at the garage, a rotund middle-aged man walked to them. He smoothed his receding hair back, those sharp blue eyes staring at them. "Carmen! Get your butt in that truck now!"

"Affirmative, sir."

Vegeta heard Carmen swear under her breath. He tried hiding a smirk, but Tomba noticed and smacked him upside the head. A surge of frustration and adrenaline coursed through his veins. Chest tightened and fists clenched, Vegeta growled while glancing at the concrete floor. "What's so funny, Monkey Boy!?"

Tomba chuckled softly, relishing in Vegeta's resistance to reframe his anger. He tried anything to upset Vegeta, yet no episodes occurred. Bulma taught him to take deep breaths and not think about tearing someone's head off. Alongside his strength, Vegeta's thoughts fluctuate, too. When anger surfaced, those thoughts turned gruesome. Blood splattering across the concrete floor, giving it a pleasant color to its gray base.

He shook his head, the pain where Tomba smacked him faded somewhat. "Nothing, sir." An artificial smile spread on Vegeta's face as he straightened. "I'll go help Carmen with the load."

Not even a thumbs up soothed Tomba's mood. He grumbled, then walks to a small group of deliverymen. Vegeta grunted, his throat tickling in irritation. He marched to the truck Carmen got in. "Whew, you kept it together."

"Yes, my mental health has been erratic. It's still a mystery to me." He climbed to the passenger seat, eyes closed and temples throbbed.

"I get you, man. Ahem, for our first delivery, we're going to Silicone Drive."

That artificial smile turned to natural smirking. Vegeta knew who lived on Silicone Drive. Carmen listed the items Claire Urara, their first customer, had ordered. Ten capsules and a pack of folded clothes. Capsule Corporation had sold anything. From their famous capsules, vehicles, clothes, etcetera.

Vegeta nodded, his pristine teeth beaming from the grin. Carmen drove out the garage, backing up and careful of other coworkers carrying loads. They rode down streets, paused before red lights, and dealt with traffic madness. Mornings were chaotic on the streets. He couldn't wrap his head around why people complained about an accident slowing their travel. Complains turned to fists flying, as he'd witnessed once.

Just watching the violence made him wince a little. Fifteen minutes later, Carmen parked in front of a dome-shaped house. It had shades of green, white, and gray. A cylinder tower stood beside it, an additional area for visitors. Vegeta exited the truck to grab the package. It wasn't a heavy set, delighting his arms and any awkwardness the neighbors would've got if they watched. He took a medium box with capsules inside and a basket of folded clothes. Carmen stood near a door, waiting for her partner and the packages. Vegeta jogged, though despite the slow uptake, he reached her in seconds.

"Ms. Urara. Your package is here."

The door squeaked, loose but firm. It revealed a green-skinned woman with curly bright orange hair, its ends reaching past her shoulders, stopping above her bottom. The skin color paused certain people, as well as her pair of antennas and pointy ears. "Oh, thank you."

"Hi, Claire," Vegeta presented the packages to her.

"Hello there, Vegeta." She took the box and basket off of Vegeta's arms. "How's your morning doing?"

"Tomba," both Vegeta and Carmen said with disdain.

Claire rolled her eyes, a petite smile widening. "I get it."

"Thanks for the sympathy. Anyway, where's… you-know-who?"

"He's not here. Gone training in the deserts again."

Claire Urara had a complicated relationship with a previous threat. Vegeta heard the story from another close friend he'd grew attached. Goku recalled the tournament he won against Piccolo, the reincarnation of King Piccolo. Five years since his victory, Goku hadn't stopped training, preparing for Piccolo's revenge. However, it never came.

Between the five-year gap, Piccolo saved a woman. She'd been experimented by an underground laboratory. Once escaped, she found Piccolo by shear luck. Instead of killing her in cold blood, Piccolo became surprised, seeing a female version of his kind. Under a promise to live normal lives, Piccolo and Claire moved to Metro West City. While Claire used her full name to blend in, Piccolo used a fake name.

"Sure, you and Majunior are training. Why is he at the deserts?"

"You know how he is. He isn't a people person and likes privacy."

Claire kept a facade for Carmen. To Vegeta, they knew Piccolo wasn't ready to reconcile with humans. Goku, upon hearing the news of the 'reformation,' wanted to congratulate, but Piccolo refused. He was still bitter over the loss.

"Well, if Majunior comes back, tell him I said hi."

"You got it, Vegeta," Claire winked.

The Capsule Corporation employees continued their deliveries across Metro West City and West City. An hour and fifty minutes of travel relaxed Vegeta. For a time. As they reached the garage, Tomba stood at the center, foot tapping and clipboard under his arm. "Oh, what is it now?"

"Let's get this crap over with."

They got off, then trudged to Tomba, who'd scowled deeper. "Care to explain this, Ms. Maeko!?"

He showed a document Carmen finished last night. She shrugged her shoulders, unsure why Tomba would be upset. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I mean the document is under your name! Do it again and write MY name!"

"Really!?"

"Yes, really!" Tomba shoved the document into Carmen's face. "It's your mistake, you fix it!"

"Mister, please," Vegeta extended his arms to Tomba. "Carmen was doing her job, the exact one you gave her."

"Shut up, Monkey Boy!"

A back hand slap across Vegeta's face pushed it. That anger returned ten times greater. He growled, eyes piercing through Tomba's blue eyes. The executive director of the delivery service smirked, then returned to scolding Carmen's mistake. The boiling sensation grew hotter, spread wider underneath his skin. His tail twitched as to mimic the aggression towards Tomba.

Flashes of those violent thoughts clouded Vegeta's sights. Blood splatters, a red filter, and Tomba's choking. He saw himself, a crooked smile and his hand holding a meaty tube. Further inspection revealed the tube to be Tomba's vocal cord. Laughter rang the air. It came from Vegeta. An imagination of what could've been.

He faced Tomba, his cheeks growing red and bothered. "Why you—"

"Is there a problem?"

A hand patted Vegeta's shoulder.

He felt a wave of relief wash away the aggression. Those thoughts faded when Bulma's voice chimed. His tail stopped twitching and loosened its grip around the waist. Bulma looked at Tomba, whose face turned pale. He reeled his arm away from Carmen's face. "Nothing's wrong, ma'am. I was educating Ms. Maeko about fixing mistakes."

"Can I look at the document?"

Tomba, sweat clamming his hands, gave the document to Bulma. One quick study and she sighed. "Carmen?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for finishing it."

She sighed, thanking Bulma for understanding.

"Tomba?"

He might act proud around lower-ranked employees, he wasn't strong when Bulma showed herself. His knees wobbled and face got paler. Vegeta chuckled to himself, satisfaction swelling his chest. The look of misery oddly satisfied him. "Come to my office. We're going to have a long discussion about your behavior."

Tomba whimpered, his sealed lips quivered, and eyes trembled from tears about to spill. Bulma glanced at Vegeta. He got stiff whenever she looked at him with those concerned blue eyes. "Vegeta?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Go relax. I'll meet up with you later."

He nodded. Out of the garage, Vegeta thought. If Bulma knew about Tomba's behavior, why act now? The hallways dimmed from the sunlight setting down. Afternoons were his time period to ponder. Return to those dreams and answer them. Who was he? Are his parents dead? Where was this empire? Why was he on Earth?

Planet Kori, Ici Force Headquarters

Two figures strode down the halls. Soldiers in armor noticed them and straightened up, saluting. A pale-skinned woman with jet black hair, tied in a bun, nodded. Her partner, a mint-skinned man with braided emerald green hair, scoffed. They strode further until they'd reached their destination. She knocked three times, then the door slid, revealing an orange alien male with dull red eyes and fangs.

"General Willow and Zarbon. Welcome."

He bowed down, the tip of his oblong-shaped head nearly touching Willow's chin. Zarbon scoffed again while walking past the soldier. Willow appreciated the gesture and followed her partner. She rushed to Zarbon's side and shoved her elbow to his arm. "Ouch. What was that for?"

"Be more considerate. He's new."

"Hmph, any soldier newbie are weaklings below us. You know that, Willow."

"But that's not how Ici wants us to act."

Zarbon scoffed once more. It was irritating Willow. They stopped before a hover chair; it faced a giant circular window. A hand swirled a glass of grape juice, the stars' twinkle beamed at its dark purple essence. "Have news for me?"

"Ahem, of course, we do." Willow kneeled, her left hand pressing against her breast plate. "Planet Aim is recovering after its incident last year. Its population has increased by ten percent."

"Interesting. Anything else?"

Zarbon kneeled, his right hand on the chest plate. "Yes, m'lady. Your agreement with Planet Namek is underway."

"Good, good. Our discussion last week has the elders piqued."

Sips slurped, then the glass of grape juice levitated to a nightstand. A figure of elegance floated out the hover chair. Its tail wagged from side to side. When it touched the sleek floor, it extended both its arms, fingers spread wide. "I'm this close to completing my goals."

"It is great to hear your mood is positive, Princess Ici."

"Willow!"

"Don't start arguing, you two."

Willow and Zarbon froze, widened eyes staring at the figure. She turned around, the dimmed light revealing her appearance. Arcosians were terrifyingly beautiful. Not Princess Ici. Her ultramarine blue bio-gems held a pleasant trait of confidence and friendship. She blinked her crimson eyes, clearing her vision. "I prefer any name. Lady, Princess, your Highness. The title doesn't matter. At least to me."

Ici rubbed the back of her head, careful not to slit her wrist. Her pointy black horns caused several scars in the past. Willow stood up, legs parallel from each other. Her armor showed a slim upper body piece, cupping her breasts perfectly. The bottom part was a stretchable skirt, giving Willow flexibility during battles. Her under-suit wasn't impressive. No leggings and long sleeves.

"Apologies again."

Ici nodded with a sincere smile. Zarbon stood up, too. His armor was an exact copy of low-ranked soldiers in Ici's army, but he wore a pair of periwinkle forearm warmers and dark blue stockings, its rims reaching past his knees and stopping around his thighs. "We promise never to argue in front of your presence, m'lady." He bowed down, his long braid drooped past his shoulder.

"Enough apologizes. I'd called you here for an important aim. Last year was an indecisive time for the Ici Force," Ici folded her arms over her waist. Her armor mixed Willow's and regular soldier's attire. An attachable skirt piece for elegant occasions and negotiating with planetary leaders.

"Affirmative, m'lady," Willow and Zarbon straightened again, arms on their sides.

"Planet Aim suffered a horrible invasion, but a few survivors made it out alive. I couldn't forgive him for eradicating 70% of that planet's resources and population. Execution should've been the proper punishment, but," Ici lowered her eyes. "I couldn't push myself to conclude. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Don't say what you're about to—"

"Yes, Zarbon. You and Willow will visit Planet Earth and find him. Dr. Gooseberri has already arranged earthling clothes for you and they're at the ship. Please, act civil and persuade him to join our forces."

Zarbon widened his eyes. His skin shivered, sweat coating his neck and forehead. Willow blew air through her black-painted lips. "Of course, m'lady. We'll get onto it."

Ici nodded, her eyes scanning her most trusted generals. She can always trust Willow, a resourceful woman with accurate aim and swift reactions. Zarbon, however? Though he acted loyal to her and her family, his vanity and stubbornness were problems. He tried hiding those traits whenever he was around her or her brothers, but Ici wasn't oblivious. Nothing got away from her eyes.

"Alright, you two. Your mission begins now."

They saluted, then marched to the door. Once they were gone, Ici glanced at the window once more. Stars and galaxies afar were mind-bending to her. Upon her birth, they were the first things she sought. The soldiers were there, but Ici ignored them, intrigued in the sparkling lights across the pitch black space.

"I wonder how living on Earth has changed him."

To Be Continued…