Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Camouflage ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

. . Goku . .

The stairs creak precariously as I struggle to make my way down them without falling. The rusty railing crumbles a few times beneath my tight grip; I can count the number of times I've been drunk before on one hand, which probably explains why I am having such trouble now. My vision keeps on tilting everything to the side -- too bad the alcohol can't make me forget what just happened.

I would have understood if Bulma had just pulled away without a word. We both know that what we were doing was wrong, what with the chance of Chichi still being alive and Bulma's impaired judgement. But for her to say his name in such an intimate moment just let me know that Bulma was not seeing or feeling me during our kiss -- she was wishing that I was him. That evil man who has caused us so much pain, who has murdered so many people... I might have wanted to see the best in him three years ago, even avoided giving him such a strong label as 'evil', but I don't have the same illusions anymore. I could never see any good in someone who has caused so much suffering. My drunken mind flies a mile a minute over all the memories I have of Bulma and Vejita interacting, and yet I still cannot see why she would be attracted to him when she had so many safer options. Like Yamcha... like me.

Somehow I manage to make it back to our little hideout room, where Piccolo is very much out of his trance and pacing frantically. Immediately I sober up by a good margin; I have never seen Piccolo express worry so openly. In the corner, Yamcha is passed out, hunched over the empty tankard. Piccolo searches the space behind me for any sign of Bulma, and, seeing none, growls a curse in what I assume is Namekian.

"Can you feel that?" he demands. "Clear your idiotic, drunk mind and reach out your senses!"

I close my eyes and concentrate as hard as I can. Indeed, there is something amiss in this immediate area. It doesn't feel like a ki signature; it is simply a feeling of intense... evil. My eyes snap open in realization. Piccolo recogizes my epiphany and bolts out of the room, towards the stairs, towards the spot where Bulma's ki still lingers -- the roof.

"It can't be!" I yell to Piccolo as I try to catch up to him. "If he were here, then we would have felt his energy, his ki, something!"

"He hid his true abilities for so long, there's no telling what he is capable of now," Piccolo responds, taking the stairs five at a time, his cape flapping out behind him. "Bulma's up there -- even if it isn't him, whatever is around is bound to be trouble and we can't just leave her vulnerable."

We reach the roof and burst through the door; and what we see stops us both in our tracks. My heart jumps into my throat, and Piccolo's ki skyrockets in response. Our worst nightmare has come to fruition, because standing on the roof with an unconscious Bulma tossed over one broad shoulder is none other than Vejita. My eyes are drawn to the droplets of crimson blood -- human blood -- that are still dripping down from Bulma. I know that he cannot afford to hurt her too badly, but my emotion gets the better of me. I have to fight to keep my ki from exploding.

"How nice of you to join us," Vejita says, his voice as seductive and chilling as I remember. He shifts Bulma so that she is cradled in his arms, revealing a nasty-looking blow to her head as the source of the blood. With a hand that is exaggeratedly gentle, he removes a few strands of lavender hair out of her face; his hand brushes over her chest appreciatively, crudely. "My, how my little flower has blossomed. I can understand why you would want to hide her from me like you have, Kakkarott. I hardly blame you for wanting her for yourself."

I try not to give him what he wants as he stares me down with his red-tinted eyes -- a crazed reaction -- but partly due to the alcohol, I cannot stop myself. "You bastard! I'll wipe that smirk off your face!" My ki bursts out around me, yellow and uncontrolled. I have never felt so unhinged before -- letting my power and temper get the better of myself is something that I have never done.

Vejita doesn't even flinch. Instead, he chuckles. Piccolo visibly shudders, and I can hardly blame him; over the course of his victorious ascension to power, he has morphed into the most terrifying thing we have yet seen. He is darker -- his eyes are rimmed in black and almost red, and the ki aura he is emitting is a burgundy so dark that it almost appears black. The waves of malice radiate off of him, even when he is powered down. The only reaction I receive from him is that deranged laugh.

"What's so funny?" I demand. "I've defeated you before -- I'll do it again!" Beside me, Piccolo seems torn between shutting me up and overreacting himself. In Vejita's arms, Bulma's face twitches in unconscious pain.

"You? Defeat me?" Vejita repeats, his smirk turning into a grin that is even more horrific. "Don't be so dense, Kakkarott -- if I had allowed you to see my true power that early on, I could have never achieved what I have now. I like to consider it my one good deed towards humanity -- besides putting it out of its miserable existence, of course."

"You don't honestly expect us to just let you stroll away from here with her, do you?" Piccolo asks from behind clenched teeth.

"Of course not. I intend to stroll away with all of you, not just the girl."

Before either Piccolo or I can react, Vejita has paralyzed us both with glowing cages of ki energy. I reach out to attempt to break the one surrounding me, but the moment I make contact I can feel the power being sucked out of me. I am at a loss for what to do; the more I struggle, the more of my energy gets taken from me and absorbed by Vejita. Where did he learn this technique? I have never seen it's like before, not as concentrated as this. Piccolo hasn't either, apparently; he is completely still, observing the energy surrounding him in disbelief. Vejita has been watching us this whole time with a satisfied look twisting the sharp angles of his face.

"You two just hold tight for a few moments while I find the other one -- the weakling," Vejita instructs, as if we actually had a choice. He places Bulma on the ground between Piccolo and myself, effectively making me feel even more pathetic. He disappears into the building, leaving behind a lingering feeling of dread.

"Kami," Piccolo says, shaking his head. "He is much worse than I had expected. At least when he was staying at Capsule Corp. he had some traces of decency and honor. There's nothing left to him but rage and hate."

"He even looks different," I observe.

Piccolo nods. "Satanic."

On the ground between us, Bulma emits a low moan, then goes still again. The wound on her head, just by her temple, appears to have stopped bleeding, thank Kami. I wonder what Vejita did to her before we arrived; if she was terrified or relieved to see him after I had left her alone. Regret overcomes me -- maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to leave her. She had been very drunk, after all. I raise my eyes to meet those of Piccolo, and I can tell that we have both come to the same conclusion.

Hope is useless -- its all over. He found us.


. . Vejita . .

It was almost too easy -- easy to the point of almost being completely devoid of amusement. The whole lot of them, with the exception of the Namek, perhaps, must have been tanked, because for split seconds at a time, they released their ki signatures; from that point finding them was simple enough that Nappa could have done it. Like finding flickering little lightning bugs. I now lean against the railing of the roof of the shitty building they had been staying in, watching them sit in misery as I wait for Nappa and Radditz to arrive and assist me in bringing them to the palace.

Bulma is face-down on the concrete at my feet, occasionally shifting or letting out little noises of discomfort. When I landed on the roof and saw for myself what a fool she was making of herself in her inebriated state, I decided to spare her further embarassment and rendered her unconscious. As I watch her friends slowly grow more depressed as they realize how hopeless their situation is, I am regretting that decision more and more. I want her to be awake to witness their defeat. I want her to see just how ridiculous they all are, just like I told her all along. I gather a miniscule bit of energy in my hand and aim it at her.

"What are you doing to her?!" Kakkarott demands, watching me like a sad little insect.

Kakkarott is apparently too dense to realize that I need the girl too much to kill her, but I do not enlighten him. I release the ki and let it jolt her out of her unconsciousness. With a gasp, she awakens and struggles to shake off the last vestiges of the cheap alcohol she had ingested. I cross my arms and wait for her to react.

"Fuck," she grumbles, getting gingerly to her feet as she takes in her dismal surroundings. "It wasn't a dream."

"If this were a dream, then it would most certainly be a nightmare," I assure her, speaking so that the others cannot hear my words. "Look at them. Just as I told you at Capsule Corporation -- they are merely pawns of the more powerful player."

"And by 'the more powerful player' I'm assuming that you mean yourself?" Bulma snaps back, reaching up to gauge the seriousness of her wound and frowning as she recoiled her bloody fingers. "Honestly, can't you do anything without gloating? You've won, so shut up and get on with the show."

"You are much more insolent than I remember, girl." I do not know whether this is a good or a bad thing. Not to worry -- I'll have plenty of time to make that distinction. "But I shall do as you wish, just this once."

Nappa and Radditz arrive and land on either side of me, like clockwork. They laugh at Kakkarott, the pussy, and the Namek, suspended helplessly within their prisons of ki. When Nappa sees Bulma, he growls but does not meet her gaze. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Bulma chuckle to herself, eyeing the slightly less prominent bulge in the front of the man's armor. I can hardly blame her; I would have been proud to do the universe that particular favor myself.

"Grab the weak one," I instruct them, motioning to Yamcha. "I want to deal with him sooner rather than later."

The ningen, who is still slightly intoxicated, actually screams when Nappa grabs him and drags him over to me. Bulma steps back from him, as if being even a foot farther away from him will spare her his fate. Not that she has cause to worry in the first place -- I have much better plans in mind for her, obviously. I regard the trembling, foolish little man at my feet.

"I hate you!" he shouts at me, sounding like a child. "I've hated you since the moment I saw you, you sick bastard! Even when you put on your 'nice' act and lived at CC, you never had me fooled!"

I roll my eyes and gesture for Nappa to silence this annoying tirade. Ironically, Yamcha's paranoid suspicions had been correct all along. A sharp kick to the testicles shuts him right up. I adjust my black gloves and address him, resisting the urge to simply eliminate him without any fanfare. I successfully quench that tiny, merciful urge. Who the fuck am I trying to kid? I'd rather make him suffer, any day of the week.

"The feeling is mutual," I inform him, crossing my arms. He shrinks back as I take a step forward so I can tower over him. "Except I would hesitate to call what I feel for you 'hate' -- hate implies that I actually care to acknowledge your existence. Either way, classifying what I feel towards you will not matter in a few moments, as you will be... unfortunately quite dead."

"You'll never get what you want from her," Yamcha rasps, starting to recover from Nappa's attack. "She might give you the technology that you want, but she will never want you. Not like she wanted me."

I am surprised that the weakling would even think of anyone besides himself at the moment of his demise, but apparently his wounds from Bulma's dismissal have not fully healed. What he says is truly ironic, mostly because it would take a full night for me to recall all of the times that the girl has been willingly moving beneath me... or on top of me... I laugh in his face. Beside me, Bulma regards him with something approaching pity. Her reaction gives me an idea -- a brilliant, amusing, spur-of-the-moment idea.

"I won't even try to ruin your cute little illusions," I tell him with a smirk. "I am thinking that perhaps you and your former lover should resolve these issues before it is too late." Both parties give me blank looks. Perfect. I do love a good surprise. "Girl -- come here."

"You must be crazy if you think I'm going to just go along with whatever it is you're planning," Bulma protests, standing her ground. Her mouth is set in a resolute line, and she looks positively fierce. I push my arousal at the change in her aside for later and instead seize her by the arm and pull her over to stand in front of me, her back pressed up against me.

I glance over her shoulder to acknowledge Kakkarott. "I've acquired quite a few new tricks since we last sparred, Kakkarott. Allow me to demonstrate one of them." Nappa and Radditz cackle as they realize what I am about to do.

I remove Bulma's bulky cloak and let it pool at her feet. "Look at your ex-lover down there, cowardly and insolent even in the moment of his death. However, I would never lower myself to taking the life of such an insignificant being, though it must be done... How do you propose that I work through this particular dilemma?" Despite the disgusting conditions that she has been surviving in for the past three years, she still smells sweet. I allow myself a split second of savoring her proximity to me, then open my eyes and start to channel my ki to my hands, which grip her tiny but strong wrists.

"What are you doing?" she demands, struggling to break the connection. Her body begins to glow with my ki, the color of fresh blood. Piccolo realizes what I am about to do and clues Kakkarott in. The pathetic third-class begins to struggle frantically, which only fuels my ki further. "Vejita, stop..." She goes limp for a moment as the power overtakes her. My ki channels to the girl seamlessly; she has more than a touch of darkness in her.

"Hold on tight, sweetling," I whisper. "Its time for you to give Yamcha your final farewell..."


. . Bulma . .

He is so different. He is the dark entity that I caught the barest glimpses of during our most intimate moments, when his walls would fall just the tiniest bit -- he is untouchable, inaccessable, terrifying yet alluring in the baseness of his evil. It is seductive to be within ten feet of that powerful presence; that being true, I cannot even find the words to describe what it feels like to have just a snippet of his ki flowing through me. Its like an orgasm that seizes your entire body; you cannot think, you cannot breathe, all you can do is experience it. The hypnotizing power even momentarily distracts me from the atrocious deed that Vejita is about to force me to commit...

I am about to murder Yamcha.

As the power builds up within me, taking over my body even though I possess no control whatsoever, all I can do is stare at my ex-boyfriend, the man who was my first, the man with whom I made so many memories with. Despite recent events, the thought of his death does in fact bother me. To lose him would be like losing the last piece of my young, innocent self -- he represents all that I used to hope for, all that I used to be. A ludicrous concept, really, but true nonetheless. My newer, sarcastic frame of mind is hissing at me to disregard what is happening -- Yamcha means nothing to me now, he has been a hindrance to my survival, an asshole even. I am torn, but I have no choice in my actions.

Vejita's grip is unrelenting; Yamcha must die by my hand.

The ki within me stops growing. I realize that this is just the smallest amount of ki necessary to kill someone, and wonder how warriors such as Vejita and Goku can handle even larger amounts of power without being consumed by it. A wonderful heat spreads from my torso to my arms, and finally culminates in my hands, which start to glow a rich red color. The color of human blood, ironically. Vejita shifts his grip on my wrists, my hands rise and stretch out towards Yamcha, seemingly of their own will. I try to fight Vejita's domination over my actions, but to no avail.

"Ask him if he has any last words," Vejita breathes into my ear, his voice persuasive and anticipating. "That would be such a nice touch, don't you think?"

I certainly do not have any desire to follow his orders, but my mouth opens regardless of that fact. I somehow manage to string together a sentence, though the words are not my own. Vejita's lips move in perfect unison with my own. "Say hello to your friends for me, and don't fret -- I'm sure that the Afterlife isn't as bad as people make it out to be."

Then, the climax; from my hands the power erupts in a flash of blinding burgundy light. My eyes close reflexively, so I am spared the sight of Yamcha literally disentegrating. I can hear Goku make a sound of anguish, but am unable to do the same. When I open my eyes, a splatter of blood is the only evidence that Yamcha ever knelt before me. Vejita's releases my wrists, and I crumple to the ground, my body weak from the loss of his ki energy. He is laughing; a sound that is enough to scare even me, who has slept prone beside him. This reality is worse than even my nightmares. Vejita is a whole different animal now -- the thought of living under his eye is disturbing enough to bring tears to my eyes. I do not let them fall; I am not a complete idiot. Tears are what he wants to see.

Vejita barks orders at Nappa and Raddiz in the Saiya-jin tongue. I pick up on words here and there, words that I learned while dissecting Radditz's scouter what seems like forever ago, but by the men's actions I can guess that Vejita told them to collect Goku and Piccolo. I assume that we are going to the palace -- that looming dark place that is ironically reminiscent of my personal vision of Satan's abode. I do not react to this realization. I just remain on the ground, my eyes locked on the blood before me. The despair that I pushed back for so long is coming back with a vengeance now. I can now see why I've been so detached; to feel is to hurt.

Dark, gold-tipped Saiya-jin boots block my vision of the blood. I slowly raise my gaze to meet the smoldering black eyes of Vejita. Dread causes my stomach to tighten into a knot. I have been strong until now... why is that resolve failing me now? He seems to recognize my uncharacteristic weakness and kneels down to meet my eyes. My heart races.

"Do not fear, little one," he says, reaching out to brush my blood-matted hair out of my face. "You enjoyed my presence once; you will learn to do so again."

Wordlessly, he surrounds me with some of his energy and I find myself following him to the edge of the roof, beside Nappa and Radditz, who are carrying Piccolo and Goku, who have both been struck unconscious. They take off, headed towards where the towers of Vejita's forbidding home impale the hazy horizon. Vejita retracts his ki energy and lifts me up into his arms.

As we speed over the dingy city, I register none of my surroundings; all I can see is darkness.


[A/N]: Please remember to review!