Crossover Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vendetta ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Two Years Ago

 

It was supposed to be a happy day, a reunion of old friends after months of separation. The men were supposed to spar and joke about their training. The women were supposed to cook and talk about babies, or more specifically, baby Gohan. Neither group found any difficulty in this. The men, with the exception of Yamcha, who had opted to stay with Bulma, had flown a few miles north to practice without annoying the girls.

 

Chichi was in the kitchen, stirring a stew, roast and potatoes in the oven. Bulma and Yamcha were supposed to be setting the table, but spent more time flirting. Baby Gohan sat in his high chair, staring at the world with wide, dark eyes and making cute baby noises. He occasionally waved his hands about, and one of the women would coo at him. Krillin's current lady-friend, a timid, pretty brunette named Kori, was quietly icing a cake, drawing ornate designs in green and pink. Lunch, presently a green-eyed blond, was in the living room, cleaning her favorite gun.

 

As it were, those at the house were either unable, or too distracted, to notice the incoming power. Had they realized such a malevolent force was heading straight for them, they might have prepared themselves, or sought a hiding place. Either way, the women did not possess the skill to detect power levels, and Yamcha was not paying attention. However, the men, sparring miles away, noticed it almost immediately.

 

Tenshinhan and Chiaotzu sat to the side, observing intently as Goku and Krillin had at it. Occasionally one of them would make a comment or wince at a particularly nasty looking blow. The two had been sparring for a good twenty minutes, and had put on quite a show. A number of trees in the nearby area had been uprooted, and the ground was littered with craters from ki blasts. Krillin's gi was torn at his left side, exposing a still-bleeding wound. He believed he had twisted an ankle, but as most of the fighting was taking place mid-air, he couldn't be sure. He also had a sore gut, though no wound was actually visible. Goku, on the other hand, had little but a scrape to the side of his forehead, and another to one arm. The head wound was probably a bit more serious than he made it out to be, but with a bag of senzu nearby, he was not worried.

 

Goku had been just about to call the match, not wanting to further injure his friend, when they all felt the power. It washed over them, overpowering their senses and making them stagger. Never before had they encountered anything so strong. Piccolo had provided them with a serious challenge on a number of occasions, but he and Goku combined could not begin to match the power traveling toward Earth. And, not only was this being strong, but it also possessed a certain foul, ruthless quality that made it all the more deplorable.

 

Goku remembered a deep sense of panic, realizing that, as this power got closer, it would land frighteningly near his home. His first instinct was to fly immediately home, to protect his family. Any rational part of his brain that might have cautioned him of his lack of ability compared to this creature had washed away in a flood of emotions. However, just as he had recovered enough to take to the air, his world went black.

 

* * *

 

It was frustrating, even two years later, thinking back on his weakness. In a matter of minutes, he'd lost dear friends, his wife, and his son, and he had been powerless to stop it. He hadn't even known the details of what had happened. Krillin had told him what had happened when he regained consciousness, and even Krillin hadn't actually seen the enemy. He'd simply felt the flares of ki from the enemy, and the vanishing of familiar powers.

 

Apparently, Piccolo had hit Goku in the head, effectively knocking him out. Then, with strict orders for the humans not to follow him, he had gone out to face the evil alone. Even he had been no match, and had been the first to perish. Chichi, Kori and Yamcha had all died just as quickly. Krillin wasn't exactly sure what had happened to Bulma and Gohan, but he believed that they had been captured and taken into outer space.

 

There had been other casualties during the evil's brief stay on earth. Krillin said that they had traveled all over earth, killing randomly, and loading others onto their ship. Neither of the two men, nor Tien or Chiaotzu, who had also survived, could find any motivation for the attack. Those killed had been of every race, sex, power level. Likewise, those who were kidnapped had nothing in common.

 

* * *

 

Present

 

As often happened, Rei was the first to feel the approaching danger. For a few nights before things changed, she was plagued by nightmares, though she always woke up before they ended, and never remembered details. She consulted the fire on a number of occasions, but found no answer. She asked Ami to work some magic on her computer, but that approach yielded no results, either. She was about to write it off as a freak occurrence, when the outer senshi vanished.

 

The two groups had no day-to-day interactions, but at the very least, Haruka and Michiru made the monthly senshi meetings. They missed for the first time, and Rei had a feeling they would not be returning. She tried to contact Setsuna, but was unable to reach her by any method. Hotaru was likewise unable to be found. The girls began to worry.

 

About two days after they had officially decided that the outer senshi had dropped off the face of the earth, Rei felt she understood her dreams. A dark, extremely powerful ki was within minutes of landing on earth, a stones-throw away from Juuban. The other girls felt it to, on different levels, and instinctively gathered at Hikawa Jinja.

 

“We weren't supposed to fight again for a thousand years,” Usagi complained. Mamoru placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Rei sent her a look, but said nothing about it.

 

“We really need to be careful guys. This isn't some magical enemy we can just zap with the Ginzuishou and be done with. Their power is ki-based, and they're stronger than anyone on earth. Don't let your guard down, and don't let them hit you,” Rei said.

 

These precautions turned out to be of little help. As they all transformed, the enemy landed. They proceeded as quickly as possible toward the landing point, but their speed was nothing compared to the lackey sent to great them. They were met at a small park near the outskirts of the district by an attractive, if somewhat oddly colored, being wearing strange armor and floating in mid air. The creature lifted a hand to push a button on the contraption he wore on his face, considered something for a moment, and then smirked.

 

“Are you the best this planet can throw at us?” he asked condescendingly. “Five scantily clad girls. I think I like this planet already. You, on the other hand…”

 

He turned to Tuxedo Kamen and studied him for a moment. While he did not fail to notice Sailor Venus inching behind him, he also did not acknowledge her. Even from behind, she was no threat. He was more interested in determining if keeping the male alive would be worth it in the end. He would surely be able to find buyers for any of the young, beautiful women, but the market for full-grown males who had no fighting power was much smaller.

 

From behind him, Sailor Venus let off her Love Me Chain attack in an attempt to subdue an obviously stronger opponent. With other creatures, the tactic might have worked. Youma were not known for their intelligence, but this creature had years of fighting under his belt, and most of his opponents were far more powerful. He knew instinctively that the blow was coming, turned, and held up a hand, effectively blocking the attack.

 

As his back was turned, Sailor Mars and Sailor Jupiter took the chance and set off attacks of their own. Again, the creature held up a hand and blocked. He snickered as the girls regrouped. Before any of them knew what was happening, he sent an attack of his own straight at Tuxedo Kamen, who crashed into a nearby tree and fell limp as a rag doll on the ground.

 

* * *

 

While not on a purging mission or some such activity, Goku and Vegeta resided in a massive complex on one of Frieza's pet planets. A large building at the center of the complex housed a majority of the residents, and acted as the social center. On the first floor, it contained a number of bars, dojos and other such places of entertainment. The remaining floors contained apartments of various sizes. The uppermost floors housed slaves that worked about the complex, and were small but clean compared to most slave quarters. Those who were free lived either in the luxurious apartments in the main building, or in homes scattered about the complex. The remaining buildings in the complex were either the workplaces of those non-fighters living there, or storehouses with enough supplies to last the planet a year without growing any food or using aid from other planets.

 

Goku had an especially expensive apartment on the third floor, while Vegeta owned his own house, complete with a private dojo. Goku was allowed full access to Vegeta's house, unless specifically told otherwise, and he preferred using the dojo there as opposed to a public one. People tended to pester him whenever he tried to train in public, and Vegeta had better equipment to boot. Enhanced gravity training was still relatively new, but Vegeta had seen immediately the benefits and had the system installed, barely blinking at the price tag.

 

After Vegeta had gone to “check out the merchandise,” Goku had spent an hour or so training. He planned on leaving the house before Vegeta got back, hoping on avoiding whatever new toy Vegeta had found. But, of course, one can only be so lucky. Just as he exited the dojo, he sensed Vegeta and two unfamiliar people enter the house. Goku sighed and headed toward the door.

 

“I thought you'd be here,” Vegeta said. Goku just nodded in response, glancing quickly at the two women standing behind Vegeta with timid expressions.

 

One, a good deal older than anyone else present, was probably a new cook. The last one had tried, quite unsuccessfully, to poison Vegeta to gain her freedom. However, very little will poison a Saiya-jin, and Vegeta could smell something wrong with his food. The cook had been taken care of publicly, though thankfully while Goku was away on a mission. He would have been expected to take part in the beatings. This new cook, wrinkled with gray hair and faded eyes, seemed like one of those universal grandmother types who doted on everyone and cooked well.

 

The other was most obviously a bedroom toy. She was young, voluptuous, and probably less timid under normal circumstances. Her deep violet hair fell in disheveled curls to her waist, and her big doe eyes were puffy and red from recent crying. Goku did his best to ignore her, and was more successful than he had been when he'd first learned how things worked for Vegeta and his type. At first, he had protested, but Vegeta just called him silly and naïve and ignored him. Now, Goku simply shook his head and tried not to think of what awaited the girl.

 

In all honesty, Vegeta was not a bad master. Sure, he'd force women whenever he felt like it, but he rarely hit his slaves. He would threaten them when they made a mistake or talked back, but they were empty threats. When he grew tired of a bed toy, he would usually grant the woman her freedom. Others had been known to kill slaves when they grew tired of them.

 

“You know the others are worried about you.”

 

The statement caught Goku completely off guard. Not only did Vegeta not give a damn what anyone else at the complex thought, but nobody at the complex seemed to give a damn about the two Saiya-jins. Everyone tended to stay out of everyone else's business, partly as a defense mechanism. Vegeta had demonstrated his disapproval with others getting in his business by putting six seasoned warriors in the medical ward for nearly a month.

 

“What do you mean?” Goku asked.

 

“You sulk around all the time. You mumble about how slavery and killing is wrong. It just seems weird to them that even after two years you refuse to accept the idea of owning your own slave. It's your own business, but people keep asking me if you're mental and it's annoying.”

 

“I'm not going to change my mind just because people bother you.” Goku glared at him.

 

“That's not what I meant. Buy someone to cook you meals or clean that trashy apartment of yours. Just because you own a slave doesn't mean you have to abuse them. No one will know the difference. Now get out of my house.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Vegeta shoved him out the door. Goku turned to retort, but the door was already closed. Sighing in frustration, Goku trudged down the path leading toward the main building. He doubted that he would get much sleep that night.

 

As Goku entered his apartment, he realized that he really did need a maid or something. A dirty plate sat on what could only be described as a coffee table, though coffee did not exist on this planet. A towel had been tossed in one corner, and random articles of clothing lay in various heaps about the room. Dust had settled only every unused surface, and he could understand now why Vegeta never came to visit him. A quick peek in the kitchen reaffirmed the thought. Dishes overflowed from the dirty sink, and bits of food had found their way onto nearly every surface.

 

Sighing to himself, he grabbed the various articles of clothing and the towel and threw them down the laundry chute. Thankfully, slaves owned by the building did laundry, so as long as he remembered to send off his dirty clothes, they would come back magically clean by the next morning. He wasn't sure exactly how he got all the right clothes back, but didn't bother asking questions. Unfortunately, as far as cleaning the apartment and cooking went, he was on his own. He managed to make edible, if not the most delicious, food, but also managed to make a mess in the process. Cleaning was not his forte.

 

Making a silent vow to clean the kitchen first thing in the morning, he retreated to his room to get a few hours of sleep. In the morning, he was supposed to train with Vegeta, and in the evening, they were scheduled to have dinner with some political honcho wanting to hire them to do some of his dirty work. Frieza had given consent, so the only thing left was to discuss some of the details, and Saiya-jins never turned down a free meal. Goku only hoped this politician knew about Saiya-jin eating habits.

 

Two Years Ago, Space

 

Bulma Briefs had been about as lucky as a person whose planet has just been enslaved by aliens could be. After a few outbursts, she'd learned to keep her rage in check around strangers and those who she knew disliked her attitude, and her mind for technology was discovered quickly by the slave dealer who first purchased her from that creepy lizard. She had been in the room assigned to her, disassembling a scouter she'd stolen from a sleeping soldier. Her main cause for the work was keeping her mind off the events of the past few days. She hadn't had her preferred set of tools, but she always carried with her a small tool kit with her capsules in case of emergencies.

 

When discovered, she was fearful for her life, unsure of whether the slave dealer would take kindly to her stealing one of the scouters from a soldier. He said nothing about it however. Instead, he asked her in a voice with a heavy accent simple questions about the technology of her planet, and of her experience with it. She was sure he had no real knowledge of the workings behind things mechanical, but he knew enough to learn that she was brilliant. Almost anyone could figure out she was brilliant after talking to her for a few minutes.

 

After a short time, he nodded his head happily and disappeared from her room. She was surprised that he didn't take the scouter or her tools, the scouter being stolen and the tools being a possible means of either escaping or hurting someone. He didn't even bother to ask where she had acquired the items in question. After thinking of his motives for a time, she went happily back to her dissection, noting how incredibly simple the machine was and wondering just how humans had managed not to create such technology.

 

The room she was given for the short time she was “owned” by the slave dealer was very small, but otherwise acceptable. A small cot was pushed up against the far wall, clothed in a rough blanket and hard pillow. A simple chair and table were situated against another wall. A door on a third wall led to a bathroom. There was no room for a real shower, but there was a showerhead and a drain in the middle of the floor, so she could have showered if she'd really felt up to it. However, she was too immersed in the scouter, and worked into what would have been the wee hours of the morning, were she still on Earth.

 

What she assumed was the next morning, the slave dealer returned with an elderly looking man named Dovvin. The man seemed reluctant to be there, but sat down across from Bulma and inspected the scattered bits of scouter lying on the table between them. He took the note pad she was using to make note of each piece as she disassembled the contraption so that she could put it back together when she was done, and read over it silently. Bulma had given up trying to understand how everyone seemed to speak the same language.

 

“You are from Chikyuu, correct?” he asked, his tone stiff and unimpressed. She nodded, unwilling to speak lest she snap at him for his lack of interest. She was brilliant, and she knew it, but he did not seem to care. “Your planet is far behind the rest of the universe in its technology, but you seem to know your processes.”

 

“My father owned the largest scientific corporation on the planet, and I was set to inherit it. I helped him with a number of his projects as well as working on my own inventions.” She tried to keep her tone from sounding insolent, but her pride prevented her from being modest. The man Dovvin did not seem to be paying attention. Instead, he turned to the slave dealer.

 

“Five thousand.”

 

It took Bulma a moment to realize that he was making an offer to buy her. Instead of being angry that she was being sold like cattle, she silently wondered the exchange rate between this currency and the one she was accustomed to. She wasn't sure whether or not five thousand was a lot of money. Apparently, the slave dealer felt he was being ripped off, though, as he grew flustered, glaring at Dovvin angrily.

 

“Surely you make joke. She may come from backward planet, but she is curious and will learn very quickly. And she is very beautiful, yes? Ten thousand, at least.”

 

They haggled for a while, and finally, through much persuasion on the slave dealer's end, ended on eight thousand. Even unaware of the currency, Bulma figured it was a lot of money and silently patted herself on the back for being gorgeous and brilliant. Dovvin signed a piece of paper the slave dealer handed him and then pulled her roughly from her seat, grumbling the whole time about how she had better be worth it.

 

* * *