Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ At Odds ❯ Saffron ( Chapter 12 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

Many thanks to LisaB and her wonderful editing skills. Without her I wouldn't know what a indirect statement was.

Chapter Twelve

Saffron

Bulma pushed the sweating man inside the spacious room, ignoring him as he stumbled over his own feet. Her sapphire eyes instantly swept the interior, taking in the plush red carpet, littered with a rainbow of comfortable looking pillows. A huge, four-poster bed dominated the back of the room, and Bulma narrowed her eyes, unable to see passed the yards of sheer, gauzy material that it was draped in.

Finally, her gaze settled on the biggest man she had possibly ever seen. He was as tall as Nappa, but nearly double in width. He could barely cross his arms over his heavily muscled chest that was bare to the evening breeze drifting in from the open balcony. He wore a pair of loose white pants that contrasted sharply with his ebony skin. He was so dark that he was almost lost in the shadows, only the gleam of moonlight on his bare skull, and the menacing flash of teeth let her know where to look.

His imposing presence didn't distract Bulma from noticing the wickedly curved sword that was strapped to his hip, however, and she was thankful for the reassuring weight of her own weapons hugging her thighs.

"You brought guests, Gervais. How thoughtful." The man's deep voice rumbled out from his chest, the timber anything but comforting.

Gervais wiped his sweating face with his already damp handkerchief. Bulma wondered if he was nervous about bringing them there or if his weak psyche had already convinced him that he was feeling the effects of the plague. She fought the urge to smirk evilly at the man, knowing full well that he couldn't possibly be feeling anything but slight nausea from defying his master.

"Y-yes. I'm so sorry. I…" The man rambled on, his words muffled in his chest as he bowed and scraped in apology. Bulma crinkled her nose at the display, deciding that she had enough of the man.

"Here. Now get out." She flipped the antidote to Gervais nonchalantly. He fumbled at first, nearly dropping the needle before cradling it gingerly between his fingers as if it were as precious as a newborn babe.

The man's eyes narrowed, and his heavy but silky voice rolled over them again. "We'll be seeing you, Gervais." The scared man made a quick exit, uncaring if he died later by the hands of slaver king as long as he wasn't in the grip of the painful plague.

Bulma stepped forward, and the huge man's eyes scraped down her frame, taking in the twin pulse pistols that were holstered on her hips, his stoic expression unchanging. Bulma schooled her own delicate features into a cold, unforgiving mask, something she had learned long ago from Vegeta.

She saw a flash of gold from the corner of her eye as Delia stepped in place beside her. Both women were dressed in clothing that lent them easy movement, and more importantly, they were armed to the teeth. Delia wore a loose gold shirt that was tucked into a pair of black pants. Around her waist she also had a pair of pistols, and Bulma had been shocked earlier when the woman had confirmed that she did indeed know how to use them.

Bulma herself choose to wear a tight, dark blue cat suit that was eerily reminiscent of Vegeta's training armor. Although her weapons gave her a measure of assurance, it was her outfit that gave her the confidence she needed to muscle her way through this. When it came to intimidation, she knew of only one master, and she would use all her skills available to imitate him.

The man was eyeing her as if she were a pest that he was going to have to squash sooner or later, and Bulma decided it was time to show some backbone. She squared her shoulders and gave the man the coolest, haughtiest look she could muster. She reached down and grasped her gun, but not withdrawing it from her holster, making her intentions boldly clear. She would start shooting if she wasn't satisfied with the outcome of this meeting. Much to her chagrin, the man only smiled coolly at her, not in the least intimidated by her silent threat.

"I'm Bulma Briefs. I believe that you have---"

"I know who you are." A soft, murmuring voice cut Bulma off in mid-sentence.

Bulma paused; her attention snapped to the large bed that was nestled in the shadows. She heard the rustling of linens as she watched a willowy shadow languidly rise from the bed and part the pale yellow hangings. A beautiful woman appeared, her skin the color of warm chocolate, her eyes a startling shade of ultraviolet. Her white hair was braided back in cornrows, but the ends were left loose to fall to her waist in sheet of thick, frothy curls.

Bulma took all this in with a quick glance, most importantly ascertaining that the woman was not armed. Her blue eyes darted back to the man who still stood silently, never moving as the woman approached to place her hand on his shoulder. With her other hand she reached out to pick up a jeweled goblet from a nearby table.

Bulma's brow furrowed, but this new hiccup did nothing to disrupt her from her path of finding Trunks.

"I'm here to talk to Saffron," Bulma demanded.

The woman turned gracefully to face her, slowly taking a sip from her goblet before replying. "I am Saffron."

Bulma's eyes darted to the big man in confusion. "I thought Saffron was a man?"

"I find that pretending to be a man makes business so much easier, especially when dealing with chauvinistic cutthroats. Don't you agree?" The woman's voice was as smooth as warm honey, coaxing one to forget about the poisonous sting that she surely carried.

Bulma smirked in reply, completely understanding the vulgarities of having to deal with men who resented females in authority. Her smile melted off her face as she thought about what the woman had said earlier.

"How did you know who I am?" Bulma snapped, her icy eyes narrowing in warning.

The woman threw back her head and laughed softly, her vibrant eyes dancing. "Why everyone knows of the blue-haired beauty who tamed the Dark Prince to her touch and then set him loose on the universe."

Bulma swallowed hard at Saffron's words, guilt rising up to swamp her. "I didn't turn him loose," she whispered, and for the first time she looked away to glance at the ground.

Saffron tsked at her as she swirled the liquid in her cup. "You might as well have," the woman said softly and Bulma felt her skin crawl.

Inhaling deeply and straightening her stance, Bulma said, "It's of no matter to you, wench. If you know who I am then you know why I am here."

Saffron sighed and leaned back against the table. She placed her goblet down before crossing her arms to glare at the other woman. The time for games had passed. It was time to do business.

"Yes, everyone has heard of your unnatural obsession with a purple-haired boy who has a tail."

Bulma's blue eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted into a snarl. "I know you have him. You will give him back to me, bitch."

Saffron's own eyes narrowed at the insult, but she chose to ignore it for the moment.

"Why is he so important to you?" she asked instead.

Bulma refused to answer, and Saffron's sharp eyes roved over her face, taking in her delicate features. Suddenly, comprehension and horror dawned in her veiled eyes.

"He's yours and Vegeta's son, isn't he?" she questioned in awe, stunned at the revelation. Since no one had known about the birth of Trunks, the universe was unaware that there was an heir to the throne drifting about unprotected.

"Like I said, it's none of your concern. Now hand him over," Bulma demanded, her hand tightening threateningly on her gun.

For the first time, the overly confident woman showed signs of unease, the knowledge of what she had done ripping through her like a tornado.

"I don't have him," she admitted, her face pale.

Bulma pulled her pistol from her holster, pointing the gun at the woman's heart. "Don't lie to me! I know you have him. Give him over to me this instant or I will blow a hole right through you."

Delia quickly followed suit, aiming her own weapon as well. Neither felt any compunction at killing. They had been raised on death, lived it, breathed it, had bathed in it. Bulma had killed many in her headlong quest for survival in Frieza's court, and Delia had dreamed of murder so intimately that it was practically a lover to her.

The mountainous man leapt in front of Saffron, spreading his arms wide. Surprisingly, he didn't attack, and Bulma could only surmise that he hadn't been ordered to do so yet. His stone face was unchanging, and Delia felt a small amount of trepidation that the man wasn't afraid to be hit by a pulse beam. Bulma ignored this fact as she took another step forward.

Saffron shifted to the side, holding the man at bay as he leaned in close to shield her. Her face was cold and detached, but Bulma was put off at the lingering sadness that reflected in her inhuman eyes.

"I told you, I don't have him," she repeated, and Bulma had to face the possibility that she wasn't lying. She tried to tell herself that it was going to be alright. If someone else had Trunks then she would just broker a deal to buy him back, as simple as that.

"Where is he?"

"I sold him," Saffron said.

Bulma snarled with impatience. "To who?"

Saffron tensed, and she threw a worried look over at her companion. He shrugged, his massive body shifting the air around him.

Bulma's eyes narrowed, and she white knuckled the gun in her hand. "Who did you sell him to, Saffron?" she demanded in a soft menacing whisper.

Saffron swallowed, and Bulma could see genuine regret in her eyes. "I sold him to King Cold." At Bulma swift intake of breath, she hastened to explain herself. "Please understand, I had no idea who the boy was, and the King's agent offered a great deal of money for him. I thought it was because he was so unnaturally strong, but…" Saffron's eyes drifted away from the distraught mother, her brow furrowing in thought. "But now I know why," she muttered, seeing the situation in a whole new light.

Bulma felt the floor crumble beneath her feet and the ceiling crash down on her, suffocating her until she could no longer draw breath. King Cold had her baby. It was her worst fear come to life. A tyrant had her son, and at this very moment, he was torturing him, like Frieza had done to Vegeta. Tears welled up in her blue eyes at the thought of her child, lost and alone, in the court of the reptile that had raised Frieza to be the sadistic monster that he had been.

The other occupants in the room respectfully looked elsewhere, uncomfortable as Bulma collapsed on the floor in a flurry of choked sobs. Delia glanced worriedly down at her mistress, torn between the duty to hold the gun on their enemies, and the need to soothe her friend's distress. Eventually, Bulma's sobs drifted away, and she rubbed her gritty eyes on the back of her arm. She didn't have time to sit here and feel sorry for herself; she had work to do.

She picked herself up from the floor, sheathing her weapon at the same time. She didn't look at the slaver queen as she turned towards the door. Delia gave Saffron one last worried look before she too holstered her gun, following her mistress.

"Where are you going?" Saffron's normally dulcet tones rang out in a distressed pitch.

Bulma paused at the door, her hand on the door knob. She refused to turn around, but she answered the woman anyway.

"To Cold's domain."

"You can't honestly expect to waltz right into Cold's court and whisk away your son, do you?" Saffron demanded.

Bulma whirled around, an enraged snarl on her lips. "What's it to you?" she hissed.

Saffron was taken aback by the pure hatred that blazed in the woman's bloodshot eyes. Her tear stained face was twisted into a mask of fury and agony that would wring anyone's heart.

"The only way anyone gets into Cold's palace is if they are a fighter." Her violet gaze skimmed down both women's bodies. It was obvious to anyone that they were in no way accomplished warriors. "Or as a servant."

Bulma dismissed her words with a wave of her hand. "Then I will go as a servant."

"The most beautiful of which, male or female, are made into pleasure slaves. Come now Bulma, I'm sure you know how that works?" Saffron purred, sending waves of disgust down both women's spines as they remembered their time under Frieza's rule.

Bulma full lips thinned, and she strengthened her resolve with the fact that she would do anything to save her child.

"Then it must be done." Bulma turned back towards the door, intending to leave for sure this time.

Saffron was impressed by the strength that carried the woman. She had never seen someone so dedicated to one cause, so much so that she was willing to sacrifice anything to obtain her goal---the safety of her child.

Saffron silently wished that there had been someone like Bulma to retrieve her as a child. She too had been stolen and sold into slavery at a young age, but she had no determined mother to fetch her back. So instead, she had learned to survive, fighting and clawing her way to the top, where she fully intended to stay.

Being a powerful woman in a universe ruled by males was no easy feat, and when she saw another female struggling for dominance, she applauded her courage. First and foremost, however, Saffron saw to her own welfare, and if that meant manipulating the most influential woman in the universe, then so be it.

"I can help you. Or rather I know someone who can."

Bulma stilled at Saffron's words. She turned slowly, her narrow gaze barely disguising her shock.

"Why would you do that?" she asked.

Saffron shrugged, unwilling to answer the question. Then she sighed deeply, waving her hand dismissively in front of her.

"Well, I surely don't want to be here if Lord Vegeta finds out that I sent his female off to play court whore for his enemy."

Bulma smiled sardonically at her words. "What makes you think he holds me in such great esteem?"

Saffron met Bulma's eyes and replied with equal intensity, making sure that the woman heard every syllable.

"What makes you think that he doesn't?"

Bulma looked away, and Saffron could see more pain heap itself on the already struggling woman. She sighed again, wishing that she was anywhere but here, having this particular conversation with the Empress of the Universe.

"Besides, we women have to stick together if we are going to stay in power, whether we are ruling a simple household or a kingdom. I would expect that in the future that my assistance would be remembered."

Bulma's lips curled into a tight smile, and she nodded her head in agreement. In exchange for her help, the slaver queen may ask the Empress for a favor in the future. Not a bad arrangement for Saffron for something as simple as a little help. Bulma allowed the tension in her neck and shoulders to release as she stepped forward to hear the rest of the woman's plan.

*~*

Two hours later found Bulma and Delia at the last place they ever expected to be, the headquarters of the ruthless Red Ribbon mercenary group. Bulma had contacted them via a third party almost two years ago, when Vegeta had been captured by the Resistance Core, but she had never expected to meet them in person. They had been formally introduced by Saffron, and the woman's words seemed to be law, even for the lawless band. Saffron explained that they owed her a great deal for the sanctuary that they found inside the borders of her domain. After all, they were wanted by more relentless hunters than the government.

A gangly old man trotted up to Bulma, a sly smile that made her nervous tugging at his lips. His face was weathered, his moustache and hair white with age. He circled her with one hand tucked behind his back while he poked her with his finger.

"Yes, yes. You must be human. Yes, so long since I have seen a fellow human," he muttered to himself, not bothering to involve her in his ramblings. Bulma's eyes widened at his words, and she twisted her neck around to really look at him. It had been ages since she had seen another human, and she had almost forgotten what they looked like. She knew that some of her own kind still lived, but they were so few, scattered around the universe like dust in the wind.

"Beautiful. You'd make an excellent android." He paused, running his finger across his lower lip. "No, no. Clone. Yes, I could clone you. You would make me such a nice profit. With your beauty I could sell you to brothel houses---" His words stopped as the cold nozzle of Bulma's pistol fitted against his temple. The only thing heard in the suddenly silent room was the high-pitched charge of the plasma in the chamber. She extended her arm, forcing him to back up until he was the limb's length away.

The man shot a look to the side, glaring at two youths who lounged on a nearby couch. The dark haired male had an expressionless look to his face, yet still managed to appear sardonic. The blonde female ignored the whole fiasco and was instead examining her expertly manicured nails for any speck of dirt that may have found its way underneath.

"Are you two just going to sit there?" the old man spat.

The two exchanged identical looks before immediately standing, their arms loosely hanging by their sides. The sardonic look on the boy's face became more pronounced, and the old man snarled at their mocking display.

As they rose, Bulma glanced over at them, wondering if they were the ones who had rescued Vegeta from his prison, so long ago. She knew that the Resistance used ki-suppressing technology and it stood to reason that sending in the androids would have been the best solution to that problem.

They peered back at her, their expressionless eyes giving no indication that they knew who she was. She had the feeling that even if they did know her, they would never allow recognition to flicker across their faces. That would only serve to discredit their deadly reputations as remorseless assassins.

Bulma shivered a the thought of them stalking her in the dead of night, soundless, ki-less and completely emotionless---programmed to maim and kill, never to show mercy.

Before Gero could demand that his androids do something more, Bulma quickly holstered her gun, her hard gaze capturing the man's attention.

"Look, Dr. Gero. You know why we are here, so lets stop fucking around and get down to business," she spat and from the corner of her eye she saw the two androids sit down nonchalantly. The man's eyes took on a sly glint, and he immediately forgot her earlier behavior as he rubbed his hands together.

"Yes, yes. You have the money I presume?" he questioned.

Bulma sighed, producing a cred chip from her pocket. Saffron had told her that although she could introduce her to Dr. Gero and his infamous androids, any services rendered by them would have to be paid for by her.

"Excellent." He snatched it out of her hand, instantly pocketing her chip. She opened her mouth to protest, but she just as quickly closed it. It didn't matter, it was only one of her accounts, and quite frankly she was willing to pay every last penny she had in order to save Trunks.

He scuttled into another room, leaving her and Delia to stand aimlessly in the middle of the floor. Bulma darted another look at the leisurely lounging androids, wondering if she should trail after the obviously twisted old man. Before she could make the decision to follow the doctor, he walked back into the room, holding something in his hands.

"Now, first of all we have to get inside King Cold's palace walls without drawing suspicion to ourselves. Android 17 will enter as a fighter for the arena." At the mention of his name the dark-haired boy roused himself briefly from his musings. His unnaturally bright, blue eyes settled on Bulma, leaving her feeling icy and cold, as if she had been touched by death. Bulma dragged her gaze away from his, returning her attention to Dr. Gero.

"Arena?" she questioned.

"Yes, yes. Fighters from all over the universe travel there to fight in King Cold's arena. If they survive and they please the court, then they will be rewarded richly with enough money to see their family wealthy for ten generations."

"Android 18 will go as a concubine for the King."

Bulma's eyes automatically flew to the cold woman to gage her response. Bulma saw the slightest flicker of distaste spasm across the beautiful android's face before it was stowed away as though it had never existed.

Bulma blinked, and looked back at the doctor. "Well that's great, but how do you propose that we get in?"

"You will pose as their servants, of course," Dr. Gero announced as if they were idiots for not figuring that out sooner.

Bulma's upper lip curled, baring her incisors, and she fought the urge to get out her gun to blast him. Delia gulped, shifting subtly away from her mistress, disturbed by how much Bulma reminded her of Vegeta at that moment.

"It has already been explained to us that attractive servants will become sex slaves," Bulma drawled slowly as if she was talking to small child. Dr. Gero returned her sneer with his own and held up the objects he had in his hands.

"These are Molecular DNA Recompositers." Bulma looked down at the items that looked very similar to wrist watches to her. "They are worn around the wrist and once activated, they will disguise your true form, making you appear as whatever you have programmed into the Recompositer. The transformation is so complete that it will fool a DNA scan."

Delia moved a little closer, peering down at the watches. "How long does it take to change form and then back again?"

"Only a few seconds and it's completely painless. To you it seems like nothing has changed, but in reality a tight fighting hologram has overlaid your skin and the chemicals released into your body by the Recompositer activate when scanned, giving a reading of whatever species you are imitating."

Bulma took a watch, flipping it over to examine the back. Her scientist's mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, and she couldn't resist asking, "Tell me how it works, exactly."

Five minutes later, everyone else's eyes in the room had glazed over as the Doctor and Bulma avidly discussed his invention. Tomorrow they would leave for Cold's domain, and she would be one step closer to reclaiming her child.