Chapter 24

Rage and shame bubbled up inside of him as he took the man’s body in his hand, squeezing slowly and relishing the feeling of the bones breaking against his palm, the screams of pain between the bursts of strange laughter. How dare this Earthling be so strong, how dare this Earthling hurt him, how dare this Earthling for being successful and even for staying alive! Hate ripped through him like evisceration and his hand convulsed, the man’s body making horrible sounds as it was crushed. He looked down at the man’s screaming mouth, the molars no longer remotely white as blood flowed out of the throat. Letting the pressure up just a tad, he heard the rasping noise of lungs laboring against broken ribs as the man in his hands tried to breathe. “I had no idea you were so strong,” the man wheezed, a crooked smile across his face and a strange glint in his eyes, now black and blue and barely open because of the swelling. “This is wonderful.”

“What?” he replied. “Do you enjoy dying?”

The man shook his head, blood streaming from his nose and the corners of his mouth. “No, it’s not fun. But you’re amazing. I think that if I live I can beat you, no problem.”

He felt the animal rage take him once again in its poisoned claws, his very veins burning with the emotion. “No problem?” he bellowed, the earth shaking with his ire. “You dare?” He squeezed again, anticipating the moment when the pressure became too much for the man and his skull burst.

“Yes,” the man gurgled with a laugh. “If I have to go, this is an honorable way,” he gasped, and then the screaming commenced once again.

---

Zarbon burst into the house, white cape flapping, and scanned the room. No one was in the kitchen and there wasn’t a single noise, not even a dripping of water from the faucet. He turned his head from side to side, a snarl twisting his perfect features. Where were they? He had no hope of finding Vegeta if he didn’t have a scouter. He paused for a moment, straining his ears and calming his breathing so he could hear better. Yes, there it was, a faint noise above him. He ran through the room and found the stairs, flying when his legs wouldn’t carry him as quickly as he wanted to go. How could he have been so stupid? He really hadn’t thought Kakarott as a threat, and yet the man seemed to know how to goad Vegeta. When Vegeta was angry he was sometimes stupid, and Zarbon could just see him getting upset and blowing himself up. Sweat popped out on his brow as he crested the stairs, the sound getting louder. It sounded like people talking...oh, she had to be there! He touched his feet to the ground and let them run once again, rounding the corner and bursting into the room with a snap of his cape. Sitting with their backs to him were two people, one head blonde and the other black. He must have made some sort of grunting noise, for the blonde head turned and eyes blinked at him. “Mister Zarbon, whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Briefs asked.

Zarbon stared past her, suddenly entranced by the box he had just noticed. It looked like a comm screen, but the people on it weren’t communicating, they appeared to be acting. “What is that?” he asked, pointing a finger and forgetting his urgency for a moment.

Mrs. Briefs put an index finger to her lips and shushed him gently, pointing to the person seated beside her. “He’s sleeping,” she said softly, and Zarbon saw that Radditz was reclined next to her, his eyes shut and a tiny bit of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth. The big man’s chest moved in slow, regular breaths and the faint sound of snores rattled around in the expanse of his ribcage. Radditz really was asleep. “And that’s a television,” she said. “Haven’t you ever seen one?”

Zarbon shook his head. “No. It kind of looks like one of our communicator screens, but the people seem to be acting or something.”

“They are,” she replied gently. “It’s a soap opera. They come on after the talk shows Radditz and I watch.”

“You just sit around and watch this thing?” he said skeptically.

She nodded, cocking her head. “Yes. It’s kind of like theater in your own home. Don’t you have theater?”

Zarbon heard himself sniff indignantly. “Of course we have theater. It’s just that most civilizations have something better to do with their time, like surviving or improving their way of life.”

She inclined her head. “Well, that may be so, but here on Earth we like our entertainment. Really, it can be fun.”

He was about to protest when something caught his eye. He watched the screen as all sorts of different women and men came on the screen, laughing and dancing about in a field, every single one wearing different clothing. “What’s that?” he asked quickly. He had really liked some of the outfits.

Mrs. Briefs glanced at the screen and smiled. “That’s an advertisement for a clothing store,” she said. “They’re having a sale.”

“But their clothes are so decorative!” he said, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks.

“Like I said,” she replied. “Here on Earth we care about entertainment. Fashion is a huge industry.”

“You have an entire industry based on how to make people look pretty?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Mrs. Briefs laughed. “Not just one!” she said merrily. “You know, you’d sure look nice in some of those clothes. If you’re going to be here for a little while we can’t have you running around in armor all the time.”

“No, I suppose not,” he murmured, instantly thinking of all the different fabrics they must have.

She nodded her head. “I’ll have to take you and Vegeta out shopping some time,” she said, glancing back at the television.

Zarbon’s blood ran cold. He had totally forgotten about Vegeta. “You haven’t seen Vegeta today, have you?” he asked.

Mrs. Briefs put a finger to her temple, apparently thinking. “No. All of you were supposed to show for breakfast, but the only one that came was Radditz. Even Goku missed the meal.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he said, panic rising up in him and its bitter taste nesting in the back of his throat.

She shook her head. “No, they’ve been gone all day. Why?”

Zarbon scowled, the cold sweat breaking out on his brow once again. “Where’s your daughter?” he blurted.

“Bulma? Why?”

“Where is she?” he demanded, voice becoming hard.

Mrs. Briefs frowned a little. “She’s in her room.”

“Where is it?” he said, voice rising.

She tried to shush him again. “Radditz...”

“I don’t care about Radditz!” he shouted. “This is partly his fault! Now where is her room?”

Mrs. Briefs stared at him as if he had grown another head. “It’s six doors down the hall to your left,” she said, pointing.

He dashed out of the room without saying anything, running down the hall and locating her door. Without a second thought he kicked it in and barreled into the room. Bulma was sitting on the bed, reading a magazine, her eyes wide as she stared at him. “You,” he snarled, nostrils flaring.

She went pale with fear. This one scared her quite a bit, especially when his beauty was distorted with violence. “Wh-what do you want?” she stammered, unconsciously drawing her knees up to her chest protectively.

He held out his hand, his golden eyes flashing with cold fire. “Scouter. Now,” he growled, showing her his palm.

“What?” she said, voice starting to tremble. She could see the artery in his neck beating away and it frightened her.

“I said give me the scouter now!” he said, voice rising nearly to a yell as he took another step toward her.

She backed farther away on her bed and shuddered, bringing her arms close to her sides as she put down her reading. “What’s a scouter?” she said, voice becoming softer the louder he got.

The fist closed violently, shaking as he held it in front of her. “The power-reading device you wore when we stepped off the ship,” he said. “The one you took off of Radditz. I need it now,” he commanded.

“I don’t know where it is. It’s in the lab somewhere,” she said, eyes becoming wider as he advanced.

He was suddenly right in front of her, his eyes glittering as they challenged her, his perfect little nose inches from her own. He was so close she could see the flawless smoothness of his light blue-green skin and feel his breath on her. “You will fetch it now unless you want things to get very, very ugly for this planet,” he said coldly.

His calmness frightened her more than his anger. He was too in control, too deadly in his composure, like the razor-sharp edge of a decorative knife. “Why?” she stuttered, shivering despite the heat her panicked body was starting to create. “Is something wrong?”

“Just get it!” he said, standing up suddenly as an arm lashed out, catching her by the shirt. “Explaining myself to you isn’t going to do anyone any good right now.”

“Fine,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to wrench her shirt out of his grip. “Just give me a little bit to find the thing.”

He released her abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “Very well. You have ten minutes.”

Her eyebrows shot up towards the ceiling. “Ten minutes?” she said, voice cracking. “That’s ridiculous!”

“The clock is ticking,” he said softly, gesturing towards the door with his head. “You’d better find it just so you can tell when my power level gets high enough to destroy the lot of you.”

“You sound just like that nasty Vegeta,” Bulma growled, adjusting her shirt and starting to stomp out of the room.

“I should. I taught him how to rule,” he said icily, watching her move down the hallway. She was wearing very tight trousers and he couldn’t help but appreciate it as she moved away. Nice legs and rear, he realized. He scowled to wipe the thoughts from his mind and concentrated instead on gradually raising his power level. From down the hall he could hear her crashing outside and he moved to the window to watch her sprint across the lawn to a lab outbuilding. He felt the warm glow of his power begin in his muscles and very slowly let it grow. When she found the scouter she would know what sort of danger she was in.

A few moments later she emerged from the building, fiddling with something as she entered the main building. Her footsteps soon echoed up the stairs and she was before him, pressing the button as she looked at him. The color suddenly drained out of her face and she stared at Zarbon through the single green lens, her expression a mask of alarm. “There’s a huge power out there,” she gasped. “And another one, fading.”

Zarbon’s hand whipped out and ripped the scouter off her head. She gasped and recoiled, squeezing her eyes shut. His expression softened just for a moment, afraid he might have wounded her, then clutched the scouter, looking down on it. He raised it to his ear and fastened it to his head, tapping the button on the side. “Damn,” he hissed, and whipped his head from side to side as Bulma stared. Finally he thrust an arm out and blasted all the glass out of her window, shards flying everywhere. She screamed and closed her eyes, covering her head with her forearms. When she dared look again, all that remained of his presence were slivers of burned glass.

---

The scouter blipped away as he narrowed his eyes against the wind, the air being quite icy at his altitude. He focused on the little symbols flitting across the eyepiece, ignoring the ones he didn’t understand. Damn her for changing it to her language! Even though the Earthlings spoke Standard they certainly didn’t write in it. He scowled and let his aura grow a little higher to buffer some more of the wind, veering to the north as the scouter indicated. He glanced down and saw the ground speeding away beneath him, the lush forests giving way to russet deserts and rocky outcroppings. The beeping from the scouter became more intense, a large triangle flashing against the green glass. He set his mouth in a determined line and rushed towards the ground, finally stopping when he had reached a hovering altitude of two hundred feet. A bright light in the sky caught his attention, and he squinted, shading his eyes with a hand. Did the Earth have two suns? No, they had only seen one on their entrance to the system, so what could it be? “Oh no,” Zarbon gasped, his eyes suddenly growing wide. The second glowing sphere in the sky had a different cast to it, and he knew that it wasn’t sitting outside of the atmosphere. It was a Saiyan moon-orb. His jaw dropped open and his eyes quickly scanned, the corner of his nostril twitching when he saw them. The oozaru form assaulted his senses, the stink of blood emanating from the thick brown coat of hair as the red eyes flashed crazed in the head of the creature. What under the heavens had provoked Vegeta to go oozaru? He brought the lower lids of his eyes up a little to cut the glare of the light and looked harder, gasping violently. Vegeta was holding a man, so horribly broken and bloody Zarbon wouldn’t have recognized him if it hadn’t been for the horrendous hair unique to Saiyans. He reached up and tapped the scouter quickly, grinding his teeth as the numbers flashed across the eyepiece in Earth symbols. The arrow had not been altered, however, and he could see that Kakarott was near death. If Vegeta killed the other man now their entire mission would be for nothing! He floated over to a rock and disengaged the scouter from his head, setting it down gently on the stone. Calling his power to him, he upped his energy and prepared himself for an attack, instantaneously coming up with a tactic to separate the two warriors. His aura flared around him and he began to burst forward in a blaze of light but was suddenly yanked backwards, nearly stumbling into a rock. He looked down in surprise at the pressure exerted on his shoulder guard, finding himself staring at long green fingers. He turned around in shock and studied the features of the Namekian.

“Don’t interfere,” the Namekian growled, looking past him at the two combatants.

“Are you crazy? Kakarott will die!” Zarbon protested, throwing a hand toward the battle.

The Namekian shook his head. “It won’t do any good. It’s not up to you to decide how this fight ends.”

“I thought you were Kakarott’s friend!” Zarbon said, scowling. “How can you just stand by and watch?”

“I’m not Goku’s friend by any means,” the Namekian replied. “I’m only his son’s teacher and I happen to fight on the same side. But you can’t keep Vegeta from making this mistake.”

“I can sure as hell try!” Zarbon snapped, starting forward again.

The Namekian’s white-nailed hand reached out and struck him across the face, hard. Zarbon staggered back a foot or two and looked at the green man in confusion. “This isn’t your decision,” he growled. “It’s up to Vegeta to see this through to the end.”

---

Bulma slid into the room, gripping the back of the couch and staring blankly at her mother. “You’re having him watch TV?” she said, surprised.

Mrs. Briefs smiled and nodded. “Of course. He didn’t seem to want to do anything else today,” she said, looking over at the napping Radditz.

“Too bad,” Bulma growled, slapping Radditz hard on the shoulder. “Hey, you, wake up!” she shouted. He grumbled something and turned away from her, still sleeping. Bulma scowled and grabbed his ear, yanking hard. “I said get up!” she shrieked, making her mother jump.

Radditz moaned and blinked, sitting up. “What,” he groaned, rubbing an eye. His expression tightened when he saw her, his lips barely parting as he spoke. “Bulma,” he breathed. “Is everything all right?”

“Hell no!” she shouted. “Zarbon just came and nearly beat me up to get the scouter, then dashed off. I think Goku’s in trouble!”

“But Kakarott is sparring with Prince Vegeta,” Radditz protested, turning to look her in the face.

Prince Vegeta? Oh, yes, he was some sort of important person, she had forgotten. “I know, but when Zarbon had me get the scouter I put in on, and one of the powers was fading fast!”

“The Prince,” Radditz gasped, standing up, his black hair spilling down to his knees. “I have to go now.” He brushed past her and headed for the window, throwing it open and ready to leap into the sky.

She dashed over and grabbed his ankle. “Oh no you don’t. Not without me,” she growled.

“It’s dangerous,” he cautioned, scowling down at her.

“What are you, my boyfriend? My god, you sound just like Yamcha,” she spat. “Now I’m coming with you and that’s final.”

A faint blush spread across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. “Fine,” he muttered, reaching down and gathering her into his arms. “Hold on.”

She grunted as she was pressed against his chest and suddenly felt all the wind leave her lungs. She gasped for breath, and suddenly it was as if someone had put a barrier in front of her. Raising her eyes, she realized a shimmering surrounded the both of them, signaling that he had employed his aura. The ground sped by beneath them and she felt exhilaration, the speed freeing her from her normal earthly confines. She giggled in joy and snaked her arms around his neck. He jerked in surprise beneath her hands and stared down at her as she twisted in his grasp to look at him, his cheeks coloring once again. She beamed up at him, eyes shining in delight. He was so fast! Yamcha had taken her flying once, but he hadn’t been so strong and so quick. It was beyond any experience she had ever had in her life. To her surprise Radditz smiled back at her, the sharp angles of his face softening just for a moment. “Are you having fun?” he asked gently.

“Yes!” she chortled, and turned her head once again to look at the scenery speeding by far, far below her.

He started to say something in return, but the skin around his eyes tightened and his head snapped to attention, his gaze focused ahead of them.

“What’s wrong?” she said, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Someone’s dying. You were right,” he said quietly. “This could get very dangerous. I can put you down here if you like.”

“No, I’m staying with you. I want to see what’s going on,” she said stubbornly, scowling.

“Fine,” he sighed. “We’ll be there in several minutes.”

---

Vegeta stared down at the man in his hands, his fingers trembling with the effort not to crush Kakarott into oblivion immediately. “I’ll know better than to make you angry next time,” the man wheezed. “Tell Bulma I’m sorry. Ask her to say goodbye to my family for me.”

Vegeta’s red eyes narrowed as the stink of Kakarott’s blood filled his nostrils. He saw his white gloves stained with blood, the fabric smeared with sticky red. Kakarott wouldn’t live much longer. “You fought well,” Vegeta said as softly as his booming oozaru voice would allow.

“No problem. You’re awesome. I just didn’t expect the giant monkey trick,” Goku replied with a laughing cough. “I’m sorry this will screw up your technology deal,” he said, his dark eyes suddenly seeming sad.

“Eh?” Vegeta said, trying to vanish blue eyes from his mind.

“Yeah,” Goku sniffed. “Bulma hates violence.”

“I don’t care,” Vegeta snarled, squeezing harder. “I’ll do what I like. I’ll kill her and take what I want.”

Goku laughed. “You don’t even know what to do with her!” he chortled, the sound falling into coughing as a lung was punctured by a broken rib. He made a terrible deflating sound, gurgling as panic took control of his eyes.

Vegeta bared his teeth as he watched the other Saiyan suffer. Agonize, Kakarott, bear the weight of knowing someone is stronger than you, making you hurt, and you can’t do a thing about it, he thought. Experience what I have experienced my entire life. Know that I will never let you be stronger. He roared in rage, hearing bits of mountains slide away and crash into the ground below as his voice shook them apart. Goku cried out in agony, his eyes blank with pain, and slumped in Vegeta’s grip, his head lolling to the side, blood dripping from his mouth and nose onto Vegeta’s glove. Vegeta stared at Goku for a long moment with his blood-red eyes, taking in the sight of the defeated man. “Pathetic,” he snarled, and uncurled his fingers. Goku’s body fell to the ground, bouncing once before coming to rest at his feet.

“That’s enough!” he heard someone shout, and there was a great explosion of light. His bones shifted for one terrible second as his body ground itself back into his habitual form, the hair disappearing from his body, his fangs and red eyes the last things to disappear. He took a step towards Kakarott’s body and faltered, and suddenly Zarbon was beside him, hands sliding underneath his armpits and keeping him upright. “So you decided not to kill him,” Zarbon whispered into his ear.

Vegeta sighed. “No. There’s no need to kill another Saiyan just because he’s weaker. There’s a shortage of us already.”

Zarbon shook his head. “Lots of people wouldn’t agree with you,” he murmured, his eyes looking forward.

Vegeta followed his gaze. A large Namekian was standing over Kakarott’s body, nudging it with a toe. “He’s not dead yet,” the fellow called.

Zarbon nodded. “Good,” he shouted back.

“How long were you two watching?” Vegeta growled.

He saw Zarbon’s mouth open to reply, but instead a darker green face was in his vision and commanding his attention. His eyes met the Namekian’s and he felt a shiver of recognition fly up his spine. He was alike with the Namekian, somehow. “Long enough,” the Namekian said, apparently ignoring his expression. “You’re very strong.”

“The strongest,” Vegeta snarled, trying to rise.

The Namekian shook his head. “Not now. We have company,” he said softly, pointing at the sky. A dark figure set down and a smaller one rocketed away from it, rushing over to Goku.

“Oh my god,” a high voice cried. “Goku!”

“Is he alive?” a male voice called, the large form dashing over.

“He’ll live, if we can get him into a tank,” the woman replied. “Look, over there.”

A black mane of hair whipped in their direction. “Prince Vegeta!” the man shouted, and was over in a flash. A pounding of feet followed him over.

Vegeta blinked through the blood running into his eyes. “Radditz,” he mumbled. “You should train with your own damn brother. Maybe he would make a real soldier out of you.”

Radditz turned his head to the side as if he had been slapped, closing his eyes and keeling next to his lord. “You are an unbelievable asshole!” the woman spat.

Vegeta didn’t even raise his head to look at her. “Shut up,” he started to say, but was interrupted by a fit of coughing, blood dribbling down his chin and onto his bodysuit.

“Oh no,” she said, kneeling next to him and putting a hand on his chest. “Are you okay?”

Vegeta looked at her then, looked straight into her blue eyes, penetrating them, fighting to get inside of her head, to find out what made her crazy enough to touch someone like him, who would deal her nothing but death. “I’m fine, you stupid human,” he snarled.

“Bulma, you really shouldn’t presume to touch the Saiyan Prince,” Radditz’s voice said gently, his large hand resting on her shoulder and tugging her, making her hand break contact with Vegeta’s chest.

Zarbon laughed and was about to say something when he noticed Vegeta and Radditz’s eyes lock. Nothing was said, in fact their faces didn’t change expression or even move a muscle, but suddenly the air between them became thick, as if someone had taken it and curdled it. The tails of both men began to unwrap themselves and Zarbon felt unease take root in his abdomen.

“Did I do something wrong?” Bulma interrupted, looking from one man to the other. They had suddenly both gone very silent, and the mood had changed, turning things creepy. She turned to look at Vegeta and suddenly those burning eyes caught her again, sucking her up as if she had spilled and hadn’t known it. She realized with shock that he was upset, upset at being alive. Death lived in his eyes for certain, and it was his own.

“No,” Zarbon said, interceding. She was just making things worse. “It’s just Vegeta’s probably got lots of internal injuries, and one must be careful in handling him or...”

“Are you going to babble all day or do I have to take them both back by myself?” a rough voice demanded.

“Piccolo?” Bulma gasped, putting a hand to her throat. The green man had always made her extremely uncomfortable, and now was no exception.

“Someone had better take Goku back to Capsule Corporation. He’ll die if you don’t. You can let your prince die here, for all I care, but take Goku back now,” Piccolo stated, crossing his arms and glaring at them.

Zarbon scowled and looked at Radditz. “Well, if he isn’t going to help us, you should take Kakarott back,” he said. “I’ll get Bulma and Vegeta.”

“I’m a Saiyan, I should carry the Prince,” Radditz protested, looking at Bulma uneasily.

“Nonsense. I’m stronger than you are, so I should carry two of them,” Zarbon countered, “And Kakarott is too big to carry double.”

“Then let me take Vegeta and Bulma,” Radditz hissed, glaring at Zarbon.

Zarbon rolled his eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Radditz, you aren’t strong enough!” he said, voice beginning to become edged with anger.

Radditz opened his mouth again but Bulma shouted in exasperation. “Shut up, you two!” she raged. “Radditz, you take Vegeta and Zarbon can take Goku. I’ll get back on my own.”

Radditz raised an eyebrow. “What? And leave you here alone?” he said.

She scowled. “I’ve got capsules, dummy,” she grumbled, reaching into a pocket. She tossed the capsule aside and an air vehicle emerged.

“Radditz, let’s get going,” Zarbon said.

Bulma dashed over to Vegeta’s side, supporting his head as Radditz picked him up easily. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she said.

“Bulma, you worry too much. He wouldn’t afford you the same courtesy,” Piccolo said, his back to her as he walked away.

She scowled and looked back down at Vegeta. “These injuries are as nothing to someone like me,” Vegeta snarled back hatefully.

Radditz looked down on the two of them and Zarbon noticed jealousy smeared all over his face. He could see the situation deteriorating, so he went over to them and swiftly tweaked a nerve in Vegeta’s neck. The Prince twitched once and lapsed into unconsciousness. Radditz looked at him with undisguised hatred and Bulma swallowed loudly, her eyes echoing fear. Zarbon sighed. He was surprised he lived to see the day when Vegeta was the one who liked him best. Laughing bitterly, he walked back to Kakarott’s body. “Let’s go,” he ordered, and watched as everyone took to the sky.

---

23 / Bulma’s Hideout / 25