Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Night Prowler Addition ❯ Chapter 6

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Chapter 6

Vegeta grinned as he crept towards the farmhouse. The old man would soon be finished with his chores and head to the house for supper. What he didn’t realize what that he would be the main course!

The door swung quietly open and Vegeta let himself inside. In the darkness of the house, he would be able to attack. The old man didn’t have any relatives or friends, so he would be able to eat in leisure without the fear of being caught.

“Sorry, but dinner’s been cancelled.”

Vegeta spun around and searched the darkness for the unexpected voice. Even before the light flicked on, he recognized who had spoken.

“Piccolo! What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Saving you from yourself,” Piccolo answered.

“What do you know?” Vegeta snapped, his normally pompous voice cracked with the strain of barely controlled fury.

“Your eyes tell it all, Vegeta,” the Namek said, walking close to tower over the Saiyan. “You can’t control yourself anymore, can you? Your desire for flesh has taken over and left you weak!”

Vegeta let out an insulted growl and swung a fist at Piccolo’s face. The hand was easily caught. So was the next attempt. He tried to pull free from the taller man’s grip, but lacked the strength to do so. If only he had been able to eat first, it wouldn’t have even been a challenge.

“Give it up,” Piccolo said with a smile at Vegeta’s feeble struggles. “I’m not here to fight you. That would almost be inhumane in your current state.”

“You don’t understand!” Vegeta cried out. “Have you ever tasted them?”

“I have.” At Piccolo’s quiet admission, Vegeta stopped trying to pull free.

“Then why are you trying to stop me?” he asked. Piccolo let go of his fists and took a few steps away so he could stand with his back to him.

“You attract too much attention, Vegeta. You’ve let it consume you and now you’re getting sloppy. I’ll admit that I used to enjoy the hunt, too, but I never let my desires control me. I’m stronger than that.”

“Are you implying that I’m not strong?” Vegeta asked.

“You can’t get by without tasting the flesh of this weak race for even a few nights!” Piccolo pointed out. “Let’s just say . . . you are what you eat!”

Vegeta gritted his teeth in annoyance. How dare this green, pointy-eared freak call the Prince of Saiyans weak! Without realizing it, angry pride had replaced his flesh withdrawal and he felt steadier and more focused than he had been in a long time!

“So what if I choose not to stop?” Vegeta asked. “You said you didn’t come here to fight, but you’re going to have to if you stand in my way.” A surge of adrenaline coursed through his body at the mere thought of battle.

“No, I’m not going to fight you. But I am going to stop you. I had to talk long and hard until Dende allowed me to come here. We both know this is for the best.”

Piccolo turned to face Vegeta, his eyes were wide and practically glowed red. He smiled and Vegeta took an involuntary step back at the sight of sharp, menacing teeth.

“I just wonder,” Piccolo said, advancing on Vegeta, “what Saiyan flesh tastes like!”