Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON ❯ Star Struck ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON © 2003 Darke Angelus
Chapter Three ~ STAR STRUCK


"You know him?" Yamcha turned to Dorothy Pereaux with a look of
utter confusion. "How the hell do the two of you know each other?"

The actress simply allowed herself a predatory smile as she
observed the shocked pair. Bulma overcame her surprise first and matched
that cool stare with a ferocity all her own. She was digging her nails
deep into the flesh of Vegeta's arm but the Saiyan was so thunderstruck
that he didn't seem to notice. He didn't even hear her mutter into his
ear, "Don't do anything. We're going to leave right now!" She tried
pulling on his arm but he remained rooted to the spot.

Vegeta didn't react, didn't talk, he didn't even blink. He
recognized the woman, of course. Thanks to healthy living, an opulent
lifestyle, and a very skilled plastic surgeon, the Pereaux woman hadn't
aged a single day from the last time they had met. Everything appeared
the same; from that jutting chest that defied all laws of gravity, to
the raven sweep of hair that framed her perfect face, to the alluring,
hourglass shape of her body.

She had wronged him in the past, Vegeta knew this. The specifics
eluded him but he could feel the rage well up inside of him and knew
that it must have been something major. There were still the occasional
blank spots in his mind as a result of Freiza's poison, but the majority
of his memories had shaken off the damage and reinserted themselves back
in proper order. Dorothy Pereaux... even the name grated on his nerves
and brought on the sensation of shame and guilt and-and-

He released a sharp cry and stumbled back against the car,
pressing the heel of his hand against his left temple. Bulma recognized
the gesture at once, although it had been over a month since Vegeta had
suffered from any of his headaches. It meant that a memory was returning
and she had a pretty good idea which one it was.

>>>>>FLASHBACK>>>>>

Vegeta pulled on his jeans and then sat on the edge of the bed to
conserve his rapidly fading strength. Behind him, Dorothy lounged back
in the rumpled bed sheets, smoking a cigarette and appearing immensely
self-satisfied. She stretched like a cat, almost purring in her
contentment, and rubbed the Saiyan's back with her bare foot. "Well
worth the wait, Vegeta. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"I'm so happy for you," he grumbled, moving beyond her reach.

She pouted. "Oh, you got your rocks off, what are you complaining
about? Come and lay down with me."

"That wasn't part of the deal," he said, staring at her sidelong.
"Where is she?"

Breathing out a lungful of soothing smoke, she stubbed her
cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand. "Fine, be that way. I
have it written down, I'll go get it for you." She rose reluctantly from
the bed and didn't bother pulling on a robe over her nudity as she left
the room.

The instant she was gone, Vegeta dropped the pretense of arrogance
and squeezed his eyes shut as a spasm of tremors swept through him. He
couldn't even blame it wholly on the V'Nhar either, swept up in a wave
of self-loathing that eclipsed everything else. The last hour had been a
merciful blur of heaving flesh and moist heat. In the end, if he hadn't
envisioned Bulma's sweet, angelic face, his climax would have been
impossible. The guilt that he felt was perplexing; he and the Briefs
woman were not exclusive to one another and had exchanged no vows. All
they had shared was one simple kiss. Nothing more.

So why the hell did he feel so ashamed? It made no sense!

"Here we are," Dorothy announced as she came padding back into the
bedroom holding something up in her left hand. Vegeta got to his feet
and made to grab for it and she deliberately held it out of his reach.
"Not so fast. Once you leave there's no turning back. I'm not running a
hotel. If things don't work out for you with that Briefs bitch, I don't
want to see you back on my doorstep."

"Consider that a bonus," he assured her. "Now hand it over."

When she did, he regarded the hundred-zeni bills that were wrapped
around the wad of folded up paper. He held them up to her. "What the
hell is this?"

Dorothy lit a fresh cigarette and settled comfortably back on the
bed, watching him in amusement. "Consider it a tip for a job well done,"
she said smugly.

With a livid curse, he threw the money down on the floor. "How
DARE you treat me like some cheap slut! Do you have any idea who I AM?!"

"All that matters is that you were my bitch the minute you agreed
to screw me, boy," she told him in as hard a voice as he had ever heard
her use. He actually recoiled from her harsh words, as if physically
slapped even as she taunted him with, "Tell me, Vegeta. How did it feel
to be my little whore for an hour?"

The muscles across his chest twitched in fury as he struggled for
words, so great was his rage. He raised a palm flat up to her face and
then stared at it after one tense moment, feeling no mental connection
indicative of a ki power up. He had used the last reserves of his
strength to couple with her. Until he shrugged off the effects of the
V'Nhar, he was virtually powerless.

"Oh shit," he whispered, still staring at his hand in disbelief.

Oblivious of how close her death had come, Dorothy pulled a sheet
partially over herself and calmly told him, "I would suggest that you
take the money. Surely you don't want to face your precious heiress in
those rags you've been wearing."

He could only tremble where he stood, still sputtering with his
hatred of her, unable to form coherent sentences.

Drawing back on her cigarette thoughtfully, she laughed at his
obvious distress. "No, you don't want to go to her looking like you've
just crawled out of a ditch. Go buy yourself some nice clothes, get her
some flowers while you're at it."

Despite himself, he looked down at the scattered bills at his feet
as he fitfully clenched and unclenched his hands.

"You know you haven't got a penny to your name," Dorothy continued
in that mocking taunting voice of hers. "You really worked that sweet
little ass of yours for that money. You deserve a bonus just like any
talented whore. It's yours free and clear."

"...cunt ...slut..." she heard him snarl under his breath.

"Take it. Show Bulma that you still have a little dignity left,
before you start sponging off of her like you have been with me. She
might not be as generous as I was."

Swallowing at the mention of Bulma's name, he blinked at the
malicious actress. Before he broke down entirely, he snatched at the
litter of bills and ran out of the bedroom and out into the street,
chased by her shrill, mocking laughter.

>>>>>END FLASHBACK>>>>>

"Oh... my... God," Bulma whimpered in a faltering voice, rubbing
her own temple with numb fingers. She had also been on the receiving end
of Vegeta's memory, probably because of their recent intimacy together.
She'd had no idea-! With a scream of rage, she launched herself at the
gloating actress. Only Yamcha's swift reflexes managed to keep the pair
separated but he was having a hard time holding onto her as she thrashed
in his arms like a wildcat.

"I don't know what's going on here, but maybe you better leave,"
Yamcha told Dorothy, finding it hard to shake the puzzlement from his
voice. For no good reason that he could understand, the actress was
watching Vegeta and appearing to revel in the Saiyan's pain. "Dorothy!"

"You don't order me around, boy," she snapped at him and the
younger man recoiled in shock.

Before he could prepare a rebuttal, Bulma fought him with renewed
vigor and Yamcha released a howl of pain as one flailing foot connected
with his shin. It was enough to make his eyes water. "Knock it off!" he
hollered at her, grabbing her wrists and trying to avoid her sharp
nails. The sun glinted off of a piece of jewelry on her left hand and he
was stunned to see her wearing a diamond ring. And that could only mean
one thing-

"If anyone should be displaying the histrionics here, it's me,"
Dorothy said with disdain. "You and your little walking hair disaster
there made me the laughing stock of the Western Capital."

"Yamcha let me go!" Bulma shrieked. "I'm going to kick this has-
been's ass!"

"Blue-haired whore!" Dorothy hissed at her.

"Conniving old bitch!" the heiress shot back with equal venom.

"Low-class trash!"

"Stretched-out snatch!"

Mitch Jerkins decided that, as amusing as the scene was, it was
time to try and establish some order. "I really think that everyone
should just calm down and-"

"Shut up!" the two woman screamed at him.

"Smooth one, boss," the director's assistant whispered.

"Shut up, Penny."

"Buh-Bulma?" Yamcha was stammering now. "This... this thing isn't
real, is it? Did you- are you really-"

"!!ENOUGH!!" a voice thundered from the sidelines.

Everyone fell into stunned silence as they turned their heads
towards Vegeta, who was pushing himself away from where he was leaning
against the car. He shook his head numbly for a few seconds and then
focused his outraged, bloodshot glare solely on the actress. The shame
and indignation of that encounter came flooding back as if it had just
happened the night before. "You..." Words failed him and he bared his
teeth at her in a fearsome snarl.

Never one to be intimidated by a former conquest, Dorothy set her
jaw and crossed her arms imperiously. "I hurt your pride and you
destroyed my home. I'd say we're even, Vegeta."

He was shaking his head. The onslaught of the memory had left
behind a headache but at least it wasn't incapacitating. He could think,
more importantly he could reason, and he intended to give this
manipulative bitch the scare of her life. "We're not even close," he
told her in an eerily calm voice. His grimace became a cold smile and
with a grunt of effort, his ki exploded into a brilliant blue aura
around his compact form.

"Aw crap," Yamcha muttered with an almost weary tone. He let Bulma
go and then glared accusingly at his smug lover. "Dorothy! What the heck
have you done now?"

"Watch your tone with me," she immediately shot back. "Or I'll
have you cut out of this movie."

"Aren't you paying attention? In about ten seconds, there isn't
going to BE any movie!" he shouted at her.

"Got that right," Vegeta snorted. He released a loud roar and his
blue aura crossed the range of the spectrum until it became a yellow so
brilliant it was almost white. His dark brown hair transformed into an
array of yellow spikes and his chilling black gaze became a piercing
jade.

Watching the sight, Mitch released a choked squawk of surprise. It
was something that he instantly recognized. "The Cell Games-"

"What?" Penny asked dully.

"Those yellow-haired fighters at the Cell Games- He's one of
them!" the director realized. Not wanting to take his eyes off of the
action for one second, he quickly sprinted over to the nearest cameraman
leaning against the equipment. "Hey Murray! Start filming what going on
over there."

"No offense boss, but that doesn't look like it's part of the
movie."

"Just film the damn thing, okay? I don't pay you to stand around
and count your toes!"

You don't pay me to put up with your shit, either, the man wanted
to reply but it was starting to get too muggy for petty arguments and so
he simply shrugged in surrender. Swiveling the immense camera around, he
began shooting the standoff by the hovercar. He had to admit that there
were some pretty funky special effects going on and he pulled in the
faces for a tight focus, alternating between the blonde dude and Dorothy
Pereaux.

As ever, Bulma was always transfixed when she caught sight of
Vegeta in the midst of a Super Saiyan display. It was enough to take her
breath away. It was the combination of his lighter skin tone, altered
hair, and eyes that were so striking – a definite opposite to the dark
image he usually portrayed. Adding to the visual appeal was the way his
muscles became suffused with ki and bulged, making his usually loose
clothing snug around his arms, chest, and legs. And, she couldn't help
but notice, that apparently meant ALL of his muscles as she
instinctively zeroed in on his crotch.

"Oh wow," she whispered, an excited blush covering her cheeks.

Yamcha rolled his eyes, immediately recognizing that the smitten
heiress was going to be absolutely no help whatsoever. "Vegeta, power
down! This isn't accomplishing anything."

"This isn't any of your affair," the Saiyan growled, matching
Dorothy's shocked stare with his own cool gaze. "It's between me and
her."

"Yamcha... honey?" Dorothy took one step backwards, trying not to
make her sudden unease look obvious. She had gotten a taste of the man's
ire when he had appeared on her back patio, spoken his cryptic words,
and then blew up her house almost four years ago. She knew from her
dalliance with Yamcha that there were select fighters on Earth who
possessed some rather fantastic abilities. At that time Vegeta had
revealed himself to be one of them, much to her chagrin, but she hadn't
counted on this. "What is he doing?"

"I'd say he's getting ready to kill you," the fighter observed
matter-of-factly. In a move that was a blur, Yamcha dove in and knocked
her off of her feet as the Saiyan released a blast that cut a trench
into the arid ground where she had been standing a brief second before.

Sputtering on a mouthful of dust, Dorothy spun towards her
attacker. "How dare you Vegeta?! Do you have any idea who I am?!"

"You're just some lowly human who made the mistake of pissing off
the wrong alien," the Saiyan calmly said as he stalked towards her. "The
prince of Saiyans will not tolerate your existence any longer!"

He dropped down into a crouch, extending his hands palm-out and
Dorothy heard Yamcha mutter under his breath, "Oh crap, here we go,"
before the very air around them seemed to explode.

Covering her precious face with her hands, Dorothy screeched in
distress and Yamcha scooped her up and tried to backpedal out of the
line of fire. It was actually a hilarious scene as the fighter, clad
only in his steadily loosening loincloth, was struggling with the
actress's frenzied motions as he tried to run backwards. He tripped over
his own feet and the reflex action of struggling for balance caused him
to throw Dorothy up over his head. She landed on her stomach, skidding
in the hard dirt for a few feet and could vaguely hear the watching
extras and crew chuckling at her expense.

"Stop laughing!" she yelled at them. "You stop that right now or
I'll make you-"

"Not now," Yamcha urged, picking her off the ground and hoisting
her over his shoulder as if she were a bag of potatoes. Explosions
continued to rain down around them and in a desperate attempt to gain
some distance; the fighter took to the air.

"Shit, that felt good," Vegeta said when he stopped releasing the
energy bolts. His hands were smoking lightly and he clapped them
together as he kept an eye on the retreating pair. The two didn't go
far, just to the top of the nearby mesa and the Saiyan figured that the
blasted do-gooder was worried about what he might do to the remaining
innocents in his rage. What Yamcha failed to realize was that Vegeta
wasn't angry, not anymore. He actually had a broad grin on his face that
the fighter would have immediately recognized from the first time they
had met. And it wouldn't have given him any comfort to see it, either.

There was a feather light touch on his arm. His body was suffused
with ki, adding a degree of invulnerability to his form so he barely
felt it but he recognized her presence even before he turned his head.

"Vegeta..." Bulma was looking at him with concern etched into her
delicate features. She didn't come right out and say the words but he
had a pretty good idea what was on her mind.

"No killing," he told her bluntly. "I know the rules."

She blinked in surprise. She hadn't thought that the circumstances
would reveal him to be rational but he was surprisingly calm. Taking
advantage of the moment, she tentatively touched one of his blond spikes
and giggled at the alien texture. Looking into his eyes again, she was
transfixed by the mischievous emerald stare he flashed her when he
finished with, "But I can still have some fun."

Grabbing a handful of her hair, he pulled her close and gave her a
deep kiss, doing a slow and thorough job of it before biting gently on
her bottom lip as he finished. He flashed her a conspiring wink and took
to the air in a soundless burst of light without another word.

Shielding her eyes against the glare of the early morning sun,
Bulma watched him go with breathless excitement. "Oh wow," was all she
could manage to say.

"Did you get that?" Mitch was almost screaming in his excitement.
He was looking through a pair of opera binoculars and had watched the
brief, but tender, exchange. "Tell me you got that!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it boss," the cameraman said dully, tracking
Vegeta's ascent to the top of the nearby mesa. "I don't know how it does
us any good, though. Neither is in the movie and this isn't even near to
the script. How're you gonna work it in?"

The director looked at him as if he were simple. "Are you kidding
me? That's Bulma Briefs! That other guy was at the Cell Games. All I
have to do is include this scene with the DVD release and it'll break
sales records! Who cares if anyone actually buys it for the damn movie?
Once I show this to the backers who loaned us money for the shoot,
they'll cough up even more! This film is actually going to get made,
Derrick. And it's all because of them!"

The film industry was a precarious one at best and not known for
its job security. Nobody knew that more than Derrick who had worked as a
cameraman on eight other movies where all but two actually made it to
the big screen. He had an ex-wife and two kids and he was behind on his
alimony. At long last, he finally began to get animated. "Hey, Lewis
should have that rented chopper all outfitted with the aerial gear by
now. Why don't you see if he can get it over here from base camp?"

Mitch's eyes popped open like saucers and Penny wordlessly handed
him his cellphone. In mere seconds the harried director was babbling
orders to the bewildered technician on the other end.

>>>>>

Yamcha just couldn't seem to wrap his brain around the concept.
"How the heck do you know Vegeta?!"

Dusting herself off, Dorothy fixed him with a level glare and then
an expression that might have been guilt crossed her face before she
looked away. Below them, the glowing nimbus that was the angered Saiyan
appeared not have reacted to their retreat. Vegeta and Bulma were
engrossed in some sort of conversation and Yamcha could only hope that
the heiress would calm him down. Unfortunately, he also knew that Bulma
could drive the alien into a manic fury with one wrong word or look.

Whirling through his mind in a seemingly endless loop came the
image of Bulma's diamond ring. He stared down at the odd couple with a
troubled expression on his face.

"It was over three years ago," Dorothy finally spoke up. "It only
happened once."

"How was that even possible?" Yamcha wondered aloud. "He's lived
at Capsule Corp. ever since he... arrived."

"He and the Briefs woman split up for a period."

"Split up-" Yamcha initially thought she was referring to the
awful period when the Saiyan had moved to the city of Pitch, but that
had been only last year. There had been another time when the two had
strayed and he remembered the part he had played in that conflict with
no pride. "Dr. Briefs fired Vegeta and he moved out of Capsule Corp.
Bulma moved into the Hammorski in protest."

"He couldn't find her so he came to me," she said aloofly.

"And he seduced you?" he asked doubtfully.

An odd look crossed the actress's face and she looked away. "He-
he was... Why am I even telling you this? It's none of your business!"
she snapped.

The first of serious anger sparked in the fighter's dark eyes.
"Whatever happened, you didn't part on good terms did you?"

"That bastard blew up my house!"

"I don't like Vegeta but even I know that he wouldn't have
attacked you without cause. What did you do?!" he shouted.

The longer Dorothy hesitated the worse that Yamcha knew the true
story would be. He had been sleeping with the woman for little over a
month and he was beginning to discover that she seemed to have a knack
for pissing off ex-lovers. He hadn't become so much as her boyfriend as
a bodyguard.

When it became brutally clear that she wasn't going to answer, he
said, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you? Vegeta
isn't some human martial arts expert, he's an alien prince from another
galaxy!"

Dorothy snorted and curled her lip in disdain. "Spare me your
tales."

"Did you see him power up? Did that look normal to you? Vegeta was
one of the aliens who tried to destroy the earth in that invasion four
years ago. It's a miracle that you're alive!"

"That won't be for much longer," a cold voice interrupted from
above. In a flash of light, Vegeta landed beside them.

"Look Vegeta, let's talk this out-" Yamcha received a brutal slap
across the face and stumbled back a few steps. The blow had been more of
a warning than an attack and the only thing that really stung was where
something hard had hit him on his left cheek. He saw the ring of silver
on Vegeta's left hand and finally realized the truth.

The knowledge stunned him and Vegeta took advantage of the lapse
and grabbed the back of Dorothy's outfit, blasting skywards. Helplessly
staring after the rapidly retreating pair, Yamcha could only watch until
they disappeared from view.

Bulma had a hand over her eyes and was also trying to keep track
of the duo when Yamcha dropped down beside her. She saw the concern on
her face and made the wrong conclusion by telling him, "It's alright. He
won't hurt her-"

"You're married," Yamcha stated.

There was no denying it. "Yes."

"To Vegeta."

"Yes."

"When did this happen?"

"Two days ago. We're on our honeymoon."

"And you came here to gloat." It was not a question.

Bulma dropped her eyes and chewed guiltily on the inside of her
cheek before squeaking out; "Yes."

Walking a short distance away, the muscular fighter tried to
compose his thoughts against a tidal wave of inexplicable betrayal and
managed to ask the only logical question: "Why?"

"Why him or why are we here?"

"Both."

"You've never made your peace with our relationship. I think you
thought that you could remain in the background and wait for the day
when we would split up for good and you could become my knight in
shining armor." Yamcha began sputtering in denial but she plowed on,
"You never thought that we would ever get married. Well, for your
information: HE asked ME. He loves me and we're going to stay married
for the rest of our lives."

"Nobody changes that much," Yamcha scoffed. "A person can't go
from being a cold-blooded murderer one day into a loving husband and
father the next-"

She slapped her hands to her sides in frustration. "Look how
Piccolo is now, and Tien. Even you, Yamcha! You were just a cowardly
thief when you tracked Gokou, Oolong, and me to get your hands on the
Dragonballs. You were even scared of girls, remember? Now you're one of
a handful of Earth's Special Forces and one of the planet's most
eligible bachelor's. People change, it just takes time. And Vegeta is no
different. He just needed the right person to show him how to do that."

"Like you showed me," Yamcha said in a softer tone, nodding
slightly. It was true, every word of it. Thanks to Bulma he had overcome
his shyness and matured rapidly, eventually abandoning his solitary
ambitions into doing more noble activities. It was perhaps the very
first time that he ever allowed himself to see any similarities in his
character to that of Vegeta's, but they were there if he dared to look.
Vegeta was slowly, imperceptibly, following that same path under Bulma's
tender guidance. It hadn't happened overnight with Yamcha; it had taken
a decade and, with the Saiyan, it would probably take much longer. That
seemed to be all right with her. As she had said, they had a lifetime
together to see it happen.

There were a number of things that wanted to launch from the tip
of his tongue, spurred on by male ego and wounded pride. He wanted to
yell at her that the Saiyan would quickly become bored of her and move
onto infidelity. After all, he had probably scored more extra-
terrestrial tail than any of them could imagine (and this was what
really stuck in Yamcha's craw, truth to tell); What could possibly be
the attraction of this powerless little woman from Earth?

This powerless, immensely wealthy, not to mention extremely
spirited, little woman from Earth. He had just answered his own
question. She was a challenge and Vegeta, above all else, enjoyed a
challenge worthy of his skills- Physical or otherwise.

His shoulders slumped with the burden of acceptance. "I hope that
the two of you will be happy together," he said and was surprised to
feel that he actually meant it. He even managed a lop-sided smile.

Bulma looked at him doubtfully for just a split second and then
her face broke out into a broad, shining smile that made his heart ache
with loss. She hugged him gratefully, gushing her happiness in his ear,
and he started to feel himself respond to the feel of her body. He
pushed her back, blushing furiously as he tried to hold down the flap of
his loincloth. There was a noticeable bulge growing there. "It... uh,
kinda has a mind of its own, y'know?" he said sheepishly.

"I remember," Bulma said, still smiling. Rather than enjoy the
show, she turned her back on his distress and went back to scanning the
sky in search of her husband.

>>>>>

Dorothy kept right on squalling until the air became too thin and
she had to start gasping for air, cradling her straining throat. It was
like some terrible dream that she had no hope of escaping from. Below
her, the Arid Wastes stretched out in all directions and she could
actually make out the barely discernible curve of the horizon from this
altitude. The desert heat was lost this high up and her entire body was
shivering uncontrollably. She was only wearing her movie costume; a
body-bearing contraption of leather and cloth and the hemline was riding
up almost to her waist because Vegeta was holding the back straps.

She stopped thrashing when her ears picked up a faint ripping
sound of the flimsy material. "What- what do you want from me?" she
choked out in the cold air. She could feel the fabric stretching around
her body and realized that gravity was trying to pull her out of it. She
gathered handfuls with panicky fingers.

Vegeta appeared to be considering the view and only glanced coldly
down at her.

"Wh-well? Money? Fame? Name it!" she yelled, unnerved by his
silence. "I can give you anything-"

"Can you give me my pride back?" he asked in a distant voice.

Dorothy fell into bewildered silence.

"I've been injured before, too many times to count, but no one- NO
ONE- had ever managed to wound me like you did. When I left your home, I
wanted to crawl into a gutter and die."

"I-I'm sorry-"

She was interrupted by a fierce shake of his head. "No you're not.
We're too much alike and I can see right trough you. You don't mean it.
You saw a weakness in me and you managed to exploit it. Not bad... for a
human."

Was there actually respect in his voice? Dorothy craned her neck
up to look at him and saw that the anger was gone from his face. He
appeared thoughtful and a little sad. "This world..." he betrayed a
puzzled shake of his head, "I've wanted to destroy it since the first
moment Nappa and I made landfall, but for some damned reason I can't.
Some days I actually shake with the urge, but I just can't. Not now.
I've been... domesticated," he said the word with a regretful sigh.

"Bulma," Dorothy accused. She would always loathe the heiress.
There was no logical reason for it but the hate was there, just the
same. She had never been a woman to consider her own conscience, or –
more to the point – the lack of one, and lived by a stronger code that
was dictated by instinct and survival. Despite its image of glamour and
wealth Hollywood was a merciless environment and in order to thrive, it
took a ruthless nature for an actress to remain popular. Bulma was a
rival because she operated beyond such base concepts and flaunted her
free spirit with youthful abandon.

"If I had met you first, things would have been different," he
surprised her by saying. "But I didn't and it's just as well. Our
combined egos and arrogance would have turned this planet into a cinder.
Bulma has tamed me. I haven't yet decided if that's a good thing or not
but while I explore it, I want to make sure you stay out of my life.
Understand?"

Dorothy flushed with anger, and was there a little bit of guilt
hiding in her face as well? He wasn't skilled enough in deciphering
human emotions to be sure. "You conceited prick! What makes you believe
I've been thinking about some sort of revenge?"

"Because you are a female, human version of me," he said matter-
of-factly. "We hold grudges and scheming in the shadows is what we do
best. I saw the look on your face when we met; it was the look of a
woman who was formulating some sort of plan. I don't know what part that
weakling fighter has to play in all this–"

"Who- Yamcha? He's just something to warm my bed, that's all," she
snorted.

Those words, so familiar to him. He had said the same callous
thing so many times himself in his dark past. The resemblance between
the two of them was uncanny and it was the chief reason he didn't want
to kill her. "Keep him around. He might actually do you some good," he
found himself saying and inwardly winced as soon as the words were out
of his mouth. He wasn't surprised by the bitter bark of laughter he
received as a response, either. It was as close to giving praise to
Bulma's ex-lover as he ever would get.

"He seems to have more balls than you do now, Vegeta," she chided.
"You've become a pussy-whipped w-"

With a snarl, Vegeta threw her upwards with a shrug-like gesture
of disgust. He was left holding the remains of her costume in his grip
while Dorothy began plummeting to the ground, completely nude and
screaming at the top of her lungs. That brought back the more familiar
smirk on his face and he took great delight in firing a few bolts after
her. They flashed past her so close that she could feel the heat on her
chilled flesh before they collided with the ground and exploded in a
blinding firestorm of superhuman might. He wasn't deliberately aiming
for her, but he was certainly enjoying having the opportunity for a
little target practice at her expense.

An alien! Yamcha was right! Dorothy realized even as she fell to
her probable death in the middle of a shower of blazing fireballs. It
explained so much-! A searing blast of energy was heading straight for
her and she tried to flap her arms to get out of the way. At the last
minute, Yamcha intervened and safely deposited her back down to the
ground. She was slightly singed around the edges but otherwise unmarked
and the close call had done nothing for her rotten disposition; "Will
one of you idiots get me a blanket?!" she screamed at the ogling extras.
She had her long hair pulled over either shoulder to partially cover her
breasts and she had her hands crossed over her pubic area. "This isn't
that type of a movie!"

When nobody moved, Yamcha pulled a dusty tarp from the ground and
offered it to her. She snatched it from his grasp and pulled it around
herself, muttering a steady stream of curses. It didn't help her mood
when Vegeta landed in front of her and all of the cast and crew suddenly
began clapping. At him.

"Bulma, encapsulate the car," he said shortly as he observed the
sullen actress.

For once, she didn't argue and trotted over to where the hovercar
was parked.

"Uh, hey! Congratulations on getting married, Vegeta," Yamcha said
lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "I mean, I'm really, really
happy for you and wish you all the best and-"

"You're both married?" It was the first that Dorothy had heard of
it.

"Why? Are you jealous?" he said smugly, crossing his arms.

The paleness from her near-death was immediately replaced with a
hectic blush that swept up from her jawline into her scalp. "Am I-I- You
arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Why should I care that you married that inbred
blue-haired harpy-"

Vegeta sighed, and held up his arm so that his palm was directly
in her face. "I didn't have the energy for this in your bedroom. Here's
something to remember me by." His hand glowed and he fired without
hesitation. There was a blast of light and heat and Yamcha realized that
he had been an instant too slow to prevent the damage.

By the time the smoke cleared, Vegeta and Bulma were long gone.

>>>>>

About forty kilometers away from the desert set, as the crow
flies, Vegeta stood atop one slender butte and solemnly surveyed the
barren landscape. Next to him, Bulma was fearfully crouched and looking
around with a mixture of wonder and terror. The slender spire of rock
was easily ninety feet high and only about six feet wide, seeming to
taper to an even narrower diameter at its base. It looked like all it
would take would be for one strong gust of wind to topple the fragile-
looking structure, and that was precisely what scared her.

"Vegeta, why did you stop here?"

At first she didn't think he would answer but eventually his deep
voice drifted down to her; "I think I understand why Kakarrot chose this
land for our battle."

"Really? Why?" She studied his profile very carefully.

"Saiyans were exiled to the 'Barrens outside of the great cities
by the Tuffles and became a desert race. It's in our blood and bones and
these surroundings are similar to Vegetasei. I have genetic memories of
the planet and I think Kakarrot, in the heat of battle, had them as
well. Why else would he pick a place that's almost a replica of our lost
world?"

"I don't know. It's possible but... what do you mean by genetic
memories Vegeta?"

His face visibly tightened. "I don't know what the landscapes of
Vegetasei were like first-hand. If I wasn't in the palace training, I
was off world. Frieza destroyed the planet before I ever ventured beyond
the courtyard." He offered her a lame shrug. "And I was only five."

Forgetting her fear, Bulma straightened and pressed herself
against him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her forehead
on his shoulder. He didn't respond to the gesture, but he didn't pull
away either. His eyes were distant, light-years away to another place
and time she could never even begin to fathom. They stood like that for
what seemed a very long time.

Finally, Vegeta appeared to pull out of his ruminative musings and
broke the silence with a deliberate change of topic; "So, where's the
next Dragonball?"

For no good reason he felt her shiver against him. "It's about
four hours away by hoverjet but I was thinking that maybe we should save
it for last."

"Why? If it's close let's get it."

"You don't understand," she muttered, stepping back. She chewed
nervously on her bottom lip before blurting out; "It's in the Bermuda
Triangle."

He scowled at her in confusion. "What the hell is that?"

"It's an area with a bad reputation. Boats and planes have been
known to disappear into it without a trace."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Human superstition! I can't believe that
you- of all people- actually believe crap like that. The boats sank and
the planes crashed. It's as simple as that."

"Sure, but what made them do it?" Bulma asked in a timid voice.

Shaking his head, the Saiyan turned his back on her not wanting to
entertain anymore of this ridiculous superstitious nonsense. Bulma was
just as happy to drop the subject. The thought of flying into that place
gave her the creeps and the less she had to think about it, the better.
Besides, she had other things on her mind... "Vegeta?"

"What," he grumbled, not turning around.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him again. This
time it wasn't to lend support and comfort as her hands slowly caressed
his chest and stomach. "I was wondering if you could transform, like you
did before," she gusted into his ear.

One heavy brow arched in surprise. "Into a Super Saiyan? Why?"

Her right hand wandered down and squeezed him gently. "I want to
satisfy my curiosity about something."

"Curiosity killed the cat, isn't that what you humans say?" he
countered but he was smiling.

"I guess that depends on which pussy you're referring to," she
purred and blew warm air across the nape of his neck, causing the short
hairs to prickle and rise in response. "Will you transform for me,
Vegeta? Please?"

It was the first time that she had ever asked. He was so overcome
with emotion that he couldn't even rely on his usual smart-ass banter to
continue their verbal sparring over the issue. After a lifetime of
finally achieving this goal, he had actually found someone else to share
it with at long last. Wordlessly, he stepped away from her as he
gathered his concentration and energy. Clenching his fists, he released
a shout and the corona of energy flared out around him like a compact
super-nova.

The pressure wave knocked Bulma backwards and her left foot
stepped out into empty space. Before she could fall off the butte, a
strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her safely back. When she
looked up, she found herself staring into a pair of mesmerizing jade-
colored eyes. "Oh..."

"Why the surprise? It's what you asked for, isn't it?" Vegeta
asked, staring at her with a bemused expression on his face. He ran a
hand self-consciously through his blond spikes, as if checking to make
sure that the transformation had actually taken place. She was looking
at him so strangely...

"Yes, it's what I wanted," she whispered, taking in his
appearance. Inhaling it. "You're what I wanted." She flew into his arms
and pressed her mouth eagerly against his. For an instant, Vegeta kept
his eyes open- trying to sort out the mysteries of the female gender and
finally just gave up and surrendered to what was being so freely
offered. He decided that it was probably safer that way.

As the two newlyweds began to undress themselves, they didn't
notice the helicopter that was sitting over on the next rise. It was a
mere speck in the distance but sunlight gleamed off of the powerful
telephoto lens. As far as that expensive equipment was concerned, the
two could have been five feet away instead of five miles.

"Ooooh man, I don't believe it! They're actually gonna doooo it!"
the eager cameraman announced. "Man, I loooove this job!"

Lewis, the technician, was on the cellphone talking to Mitch back
at the set. "Yeah, we've been filming practically since they landed on
the butte. Even picked up some dialog with the long-range mikes- It's
garbled but I imagine that the sound department can clean it up some.
Listen, things are getting pretty hot and heavy between the two, do you
want us to keep filming-?

There was a sudden crazed barrage coming from the compact phone
and Brin, the cameraman, could plainly hear the director yelling; "Are
you out of your freaking mind?! Of COURSE I want you to keep filming!"

That suited Brin just fine.

>>>>>

Yamcha could hear the director having some sort of an animated
conversation even from where the trailers were parked, but he didn't pay
it much attention. He had other things on his mind. Silently, he
approached the largest trailer and knocked briefly on the door. When he
got no response, he put his ear to the smooth surface. From inside, he
could hear a low, muted sobbing.

"Dorothy?" he called out. "It's Yamcha. Can I come in?"

He received no answer but when he tried the door he found it
unlocked. When he entered the dwelling, he looked around and found the
actress sitting in front of the vanity stand with her face in her hands.
"Don't look at me," she called out in a muffled voice. "I'm hideous!"

"No you're not. You look-" she lowered her hands and stared at him
and he managed to get out in a weaker tone, "uh, j-just great..."

Vegeta's blast had burned off all of her hair, including her
eyebrows and eyelashes while leaving her skin miraculously untouched.
She looked like the world's oldest newborn. "I'll castrate that little
bastard with my fingernails the next time I see him!"

"For your sake, you had better hope that there is no next time,"
Yamcha cautioned her. "You won't find him in such a playful mood again."

"Playful?! Look at my face!"

"You're lucky to have a face!" Yamcha shouted back.

Dorothy's features scrunched up in anger. Without her hair or
make-up to cover her plastic surgery scars, she was actually a
horrifying sight and the younger man backed up several steps. He was
actually starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the cramped
confines of the trailer. "Look, Dorothy, I only meant-"

She waved him away with a dismissive gesture. "Get out. I have a
phone call to make."

"Oh yeah? And what's his name?" Yamcha said in a sarcastic tone.

"Ronnie," she shot back. "Now get OUT!"

Grumbling, the fighter stomped back from the direction he had come
and left the trailer. After about ten seconds, he stuck his head back in
through the door. "Uhm, are we still on for tonight? 'Cause all of my
gear is in here and I thought we-" he barely avoided a patent leather
shoe with a deadly three inch heel from hitting him squarely in the
face. "Illtalktoyoulater," he said in a rush and ducked out of sight for
good.

Releasing an almost catlike hiss of rage Dorothy popped a few
pills to relax her nerves and after about half an hour, she finally felt
calm enough to pick up the phone. Dialing a number from memory she sat
on the bed and waited for the receiver to be picked up. After about
three rings it was. "Hi, it's Dorothy. Can I talk to Veronica?"

As she waited, she pulled open the nightstand drawer and pulled
out a framed photograph. She looked at it with a troubled expression
before a voice came on the other end, out of breath and excited. "Hiya
Momma!"

"Hi Ronnie. How's my little angel been today?"

While the two chatted, Dorothy laid the photograph aside and
stretched back on the bed. The picture was of her posing with a little
girl who was about three years old. Smiling eagerly into the camera, the
girl was the spitting image of her mother; with her dark brown eyes and
long black hair and faultless olive-skinned complexion. The most
striking thing about her appearance was the prominent widow's peak that
stretched down from her hairline.

That, was a gift from her father.



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Chapter Four: Bulma and Vegeta fall prey to the Bermuda Triangle.