Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Camouflage ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )

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

When Piccolo's eyes finally fluttered open, the cruel reality of his surroundings made him want to slip into unconsciousness again. His superb sense of time told him that he had been out for many hours-- more than enough time for the Saiya-jins to deposit their prisoners here, but hopefully not enough time for Vejita to decide on the most painful death for them. Goku was confined in this horrific room with the Namek, but Bulma was conspicuously missing. Piccolo's ki sense told him that she was in the palace somewhere, not surprisingly, with the Saiya-jin Prince. Much to his displeasure, he could also feel the faint ki's of Chichi and Krillen nearby -- unfortunately it seemed as if they were all to suffer together, or used to ensure Bulma's cooperation in whatever sick plan Vejita was concocting. For once in his life, Piccolo felt fear twist his stomach into a knot.

Across the room, Goku seemed to be awake as well. He looked utterly defeated as he feebly attempted to fight against his restraints. When he felt Piccolo's eyes on him, he nodded in acknowledgement and ceased his struggle. Piccolo wondered if he had noticed the ki of his mate yet; he wondered if he would even care. The man's concern for Bulma's safety would be likely to overshadow everything else. The Namekian had never been one to get involved in the petty dramas of the Z senshi, but he was extremely observant, and he knew that Goku's attraction to Bulma was the crippling kind.

"I can't believe that it was so easy for them," Goku said quietly. The sight of Bulma's blood on the cement was burned into his mind and appeared now in Piccolo's as the Saiya-jin obsessed over it. "They barely had to power up."

Three years ago, Goku would have been proclaiming that they were not defeated yet; they were merely captured and needed to find a way to escape. There was no such talk now, and for obvious reasons. The room that the men were being held in was clearly a torture chamber -- it reeked of agony and death. And Vejita. Piccolo grimaced -- it figured that the disturbed man liked to do this part himself. After all, who in the universe could do a better job of it than he? He and Goku were held against the walls, rendered completely immobile by glowing ki-restraints at their wrists and ankles. No instruments of torture were present, but none were needed -- the Saiya-jin Prince had all the weapons he needed within his own body.

"Bulma is with him," Goku rasped, his hands curling into useless fists. It seemed as if Piccolo had been correct in his assumption -- Goku had not even noticed the ki of his mate nearby. Only Bulma stood out in his strained mind. "I wish I knew what he's doing to her, the evil bastard..."

"No, you don't," Piccolo corrected. Honestly, he didn't want to know either -- the lust that Vejita obviously held for the human girl had gone unsated for a long time, and that did not bode well for her. "Don't torture yourself. I have a feeling that there's enough pain ahead of us without bringing that into the mix."

"This is all my fault -- I allowed him to stay at Capsule Corp. when he was revived. Bulma would have refused him if I hadn't been so stupid and trusting of him, and she would not be in this situation right now."

"Don't be dense," Piccolo snapped. "You know as well as I do that no one can convince that woman to do anything other than what she wants. Besides, Vejita had already taken notice of her on Namek, long before he began to stay at her house. He would have gone after her whether they were sexually involved or not -- he needs the technology that she is capable of producing."

"Do you feel that?" Goku suddenly asked, perking up.

Piccolo was about to say that yes, he did feel the presence of Chichi and Krillen as well, but the Saiya-jin cut him off.

"Bulma and Vejita's ki's are surging," he observed. "Something's going on out there."

The Namek could think of a few reasons why the pair's ki's would be changing together, and none of them were positive. He merely shook his head at how pathetic Goku was being -- proving Vejita's opinion of him right for once -- and said nothing. He merely watched Goku as the man focused on the ki's of the two people who would most likely be instrumental in his demise. Eventually, he drifted into a trance -- his best attempt at sleep -- only to be rudely awakened minutes later by the slamming of the door into the wall as Nappa and Radditz entered.

"They look far too relaxed for my taste," Radditz commented, moving to inspect Goku as Nappa approached Piccolo. "It is the middle of the night, brother! Why do you not sleep like a normal person? Are the accomodations not to your liking?"

"What has Vejita done with Bulma?" Goku demanded, obviously not thinking clearly.

Radditz grinned from ear to ear. "Do not fret, Kakkarott -- she is being well taken care of by the man whom you address so disrespectfully."

Nappa chuckled. "We'll see how uppity the little cunt is after a night with Vejita-sama."

The look of pain and anger on Goku's face as he grasped the insinuations that the two men were making was enough to make even Piccolo feel sympathy. For reasons that he could not readily identify, he found himself obligated to lessen the blow of their statements. "Probably just as uppity as she has been after the countless other nights they have spent together," he retorted. "If she has survived those, then she will live through one more."

Nappa immediately backhanded him across the face, causing Piccolo's vision to go black for a moment. "Can it, freak! You forget that the ningen is being punished for making the Prince wait so long."

So much for that, the Namek thought darkly. It seemed that Goku was going to have to bear the complete brunt of what was really happening. Curious himself as to how far Vejita would go in harming Bulma, he reached out with his mind, trying to get the barest trace of what might have happened.

She was being dragged by her long hair towards the end of a dark hall, where a set of enormous, ornately engraved doors awaited them. The Prince's hands were rough -- he spared her none of the pain that he used to. He was angry. She was going between being complete numbness and total panic. She did not know what was going to happen to her, but whatever it was would not be pleasant.

"You have no idea how much I have missed you, little one."

Radditz and Nappa were taking turns beating Goku into a pulp. Piccolo did not flinch as drops of the man's blood landed on his face and clothes -- his focus was not easily broken.

Goosebumps riddled her exposed flesh, despite the searing heat that enveloped them. The tears she cried evaporated before making it even halfway down her cheeks. All she could see, all she could feel, was him. There was no escape. She did not even try.

"And for that, you must pay..."

They were upon him now. Glancing over Nappa's shoulder, Piccolo could see that Goku was unconscious again. There was a large pool of blood around him, but the warriors had purposely kept him very much alive. The suffering the man was going through was bound to be excruciating. The Namek looked the two Saiya-jins straight in the eyes as they began his beating. He wanted them to feel his disdain -- despite their power, he regarded them as trash.

As the pain began, Piccolo diverted his focus from Bulma's fate to that of Chichi and Krillen. If this much torture could be inflicted on warriors such as he and Goku, then he could not imagine what they had been put through.

The last thing he saw was Nappa's fist coming at his face, and then everything went dark.


She rose slowly, sore from the previous night's events. Her foggy morning vision revealed the disheveled bedroom of the guard whom she had been forced to entertain, and her senses slowly began to come back to her. She had never been a very sexual woman -- this new life, this new hell, was something completely and utterly unfamiliar to her. Though she had been used many more times than she could have anticipated in such a short amount of time, she still felt awkward and unsure, though she rarely was required to do anything but lay on her back and accept her bad fortune. Being a whore was not something that she wished to become comfortable with, but the whole ordeal would have been much easier if she had ever experienced something besides sex for procreation.

Chichi slid off of the bed and fell to the floor, her legs failing her. Her 'customer' had been less than gentle with her, and she was relieved that he had morning duty patrolling the palace. She had absolutely no wish to face the man who had so mercilessly violated her again. Grimacing at the thought of the long day ahead of her, the human woman began gathering her slave's garb and left the room, straightening it up as she went. Vejita had been kind enough to give her more to do than just fuck whoever requested her services -- she was required to clean and do any other odd jobs that were assigned to her by the slavemasters.

She closed the door behind her as she left; she used to slam them to relieve her anger, but had quickly learned that shows of disrespect did not go unpunished here. She received daily beatings after she returned to the slave barracks every morning, to 'remind her of her place'. To avoid further pain, she bottled up her bitterness and despair, becoming a shell of the woman she had previously been. She tried not to dwell on her previous life very much -- she became so ashamed when she thought of her husband or her dead children knowing how she spent her nights, unwilling or not.

The collar that palace slaves were forced to wear at all times began to vibrate, warning her that a powerful shock was forthcoming if she did not hurry to return to the barracks. Despite her hatred for the man, Chichi could not deny that he was very clever -- any slave who disobeyed did not even have to be tracked down to receive punishment. All that the slavemasters had to do was press a button, and the most excruciating electric shock you've ever felt was delivered to you. Chichi quickened her steps -- she was almost all the way across the palace from the barracks, and had no desire to be punished.

Since being imprisoned here, she had only seen Krillen once. He was being prodded from his holding cell to a med lab along with a few others by a burly guard. He had looked right at her, but there had been no recognition. She suspected that he had been heavily drugged -- she heard horror stories about the Frankenstein science and dangerous biological weapons that Vejita ordered tested in his labs. She did not know whose predicament was worse -- all she knew for certain was one thing.

This was all Bulma's fault.

Word had spread quickly around the palace that the prince had found the group of stragglers and brought them back to the palace the night before. No one had been able to catch a glimpse of them yet, but anticipation was high, much to Chichi's irritation. If she ever saw that bitch again, she just might be able to sacrifice herself to a beating just so that she could spit in that girl's conniving little face. She had surrendered Chichi and Krillen without a second thought, condemning them to a fate more horrible than she could even imagine. No, Bulma Briefs would never know the miseries that she now did because she had been low enough to fuck the Saiya-jin Prince before he turned into a complete psychopath.

A part of Chichi was excited when she had heard the news -- perhaps Goku was one of the prisoners -- but that excitement had quickly disipated when she thought it through more. Vejita hated Goku more than he hated all of them combined; if Goku were indeed captured, he was as good as dead. Chichi did not dare to hope that she would ever see him again, and if she did get that lucky, that he would be in one piece. Instead, she pressed on, slowly losing more and more of herself until she became exactly what Vejita wanted her to be.

Invisible.


. . Vejita . .

I am awake much earlier than she, before dawn, as it always used to be. She is curled into the fetal position beneath the dark sheets, her complexion pale as she sleeps off the damage she sustained from last night. The candlelight casts shadows on the sharp planes of her face, and I note that I like her much better this way -- feral almost, but lacking that hard edge. She would have hardly been attractive if it were not for that unique softness that she cannot help but maintain -- I suppose the girl will always look like something of a child, at least to me. The fact that this only strengthens my attraction does not bother me in the least -- innocence, or at least, the appearance of innocence, has become quite the rare commodity these days. It is valuable, and I want to be the sole owner of this commodity.

She does not even stir as I disentagle myself from her and get out of bed. I do not break my morning routine for her sake; I rise, bathe, and follow the stairs up to my tower, where I watch the sun rise and the city come alive.

Though I have resided on this planet for several years now, I cannot become accustomed to how strange it's sun is. My memories of Vejita-sei reveal bloody red sunlight, and most of the other planets that I have been to have always had multiple, darker-hued suns. Earth is the only planet with the nerve to at least look cheery and bright when it's inhabitants are so fucking miserable. I lean against the railing and watch as the guard outside the palace changes and the streets below begin to fill with people. I am only half-heartedly engaging in this part of my routine, however -- the situation with my newest group of captives is refusing to be ignored.

Deciding what to do with Kakkarott's disgusting mate and little bald friend had been easy -- all I had to do was designate them to jobs that would take their spirit away. As for Piccolo, all that needed to be done was convince him to serve as a kind of oracle to me -- and I have never been lacking in skills of persuasion. Bulma's fate has been decided since the Capsule Corp. days, though getting her to go along with it without transforming her into a complete robot will take some effort. Though she is as ambitious as I, I highly doubt that she will want to participate in the arsenal-building of such an empire as mine. She would be horrified to hear of some of the things that have transpired since she went into hiding. I cannot help but smirk; I have accomplished much in a small time frame.

Kakkarott's future is the only variable in the equation of my vengeance on the Z senshi. Killing him would be immensely satisfying, but such a speedy end seems so... anti-climatic. I have all the time in the world to decide what to do with the pathetic excuse of a Saiya-jin, however, and prolonging my decision only means more suffering for him. Who am I to protest that? If there were a way for me to cause him constant pain for the rest of eternity, then I would certainly do it.

I sense the ningen girl begin to stir. The sun has risen; I cast one last glance over the city streets below and head back down into my chambers. The sun's rays shine through the empty liquor bottles that we deftly emptied the night before and cast eerie green shadows on Bulma's naked form. She is awake, but not completely aware. I sit in a recliner across the room, in a corner that is still immersed in shadow, and watch her.

She tosses and turns a few times, fighting off the last remnants of sleep. I can recognize the old Bulma in her, but I imagine that it would be almost impossible for the untrained eye to do so. I am reminded of many other mornings at Capsule Corp., where I watched her as she slowly awakened, unbeknowest to her. I do not harbor emotional attachments -- they only give your enemies something to exploit -- but I cannot deny that I have some sort of fascination with this creature. Dwelling on such a thing will gain me nothing, so I push my thoughts aside and simply observe. I have to study her behavior carefully for a little while; I have to determine the best ways to keep her cooperative.

Despite my wishes of keeping her somewhat complacent, I do not regret my actions of punishment upon her last night. The evidence of my anger is bourne on her nude body in the form of the occasional bruise or scratch. I admit that I lost control of myself at certain points -- I normally possess the self-restaint to refrain from leaving any marks -- but I could do nothing to hold back the waves of rage that overcame me as the stubborn girl refused to give in. I realize that I contradict myself here: the girl's fire is what first caught my eye, it does not make sense for me to try to quell it. I am once again dwelling on my feelings -- Kami, that's twice since the little bitch has gotten here -- so I quickly clear my mind. It is better simply to act without thinking about what led you to making the decision. Action is much more effective than words.

Bulma sits up, and the sheets fall from around her shoulders to reveal her form. She has become hardened, almost malnourished -- that shall have to be corrected. I crave her softness... I need to see that innocence that is so precious come back, at least in appearance. She does not notice my presence in the darkened corner, and I prefer it this way. Observation is going to be my weapon of choice against her ridiculous conscience, if indeed some semblance of it remains. She starts to move, and winces in pain. I will have to send her to the med-wing; she is of no use to me as an invalid.

She scans the room, checking for my presence, I assume, then slides off of the bed. Her legs swiftly give out, and she crumples to the floor. Even this movement is graceful. Despite her malnutrition, she is just as I remember, not too far gone. A string of curses spills from her mouth, proof that her years of hiding have indeed strengthed her personality. She reaches a pale arm up the bedframe, which she uses to pull herself to her feet. She gingerly makes her way to the table where the empty liquor bottles are. She selects one, lifts it up to the sunlight, and consumes the last few drops. Smart girl -- the buzz will take the edge off of her pain.

I follow her as she catches sight of the stairs leading up to my tower, sticking to the shadows. She has not even bothered to clothe herself -- not that she has anything to hide. I suppose that a good number of people saw her exposed body last night -- I do not regret this punishment either. Modesty is worthless. She slowly makes her way up the stairs and leans against the balcony railing with an exhale of relief. I can almost feel her suffering from the stairway, where I hide.

The tower is much too high above the streets for anyone to make her out, but she pulls her long hair in front of her chest anyway. She studies the streets below, her expression angry. The reasons behind her anger are probably too numerous to examine -- the state of her life at the moment is certainly not lacking in hardships, I muse with a smirk. She could have made it easy on herself those three years ago, but she chose her fate. I cannot say which way would have turned out better -- I like this newly acquired strength, to a point. I decide to make my presence known.

"You've gotten better at that," she says as I step into the light. She watches me as I approach and stand at the balcony beside her, mistrust blatant in her blue eyes. "Sneaking around, I mean."

"I have always been good at it. You have never detected me unless I wanted it that way, girl," I retort. It is true, of course. She grossly underestimates my abilities, as usual -- her perspective has been skewed by the poor company she has been keeping. She will soon come to realize how powerful I truly am; I hold more power than Frieza could have even dreamed of.

She shifts so that she can face me and respond, but is seized with a fit of pain. I watch her apathetically, then seize her by the chin, looking into her eyes to gauge her pain. She stubbornly meets my gaze, but cannot successfully conceal her agony. Her suffering is very arousing; I quell the sensations and detach myself once again. "You will have to be sent to the med ward. I cannot have you limping around like a weakling."

"How sweet of you to care," she snaps. Her fire has been ignited, not supressed, by the streets. I smirk back at her and am amused to see that she shrinks back a little in fear. Have I changed that much? "That actually would have been a nice thing for you to say if I knew that you weren't concerned solely for your own selfish reasons."

"Don't be so dense, onna. My reasons are not entirely selfish; you seemed to enjoy one aspect of them enough..."

She avoids my eyes because we both know that I am right. Despite my attacks upon her, she was still able to moan my name and at times be quite willing to reciprocate my actions. Perhaps she harbors a fascination with me akin to the one that I possess for her. Impatient with this small talk, I beckon for her to follow me back downstairs. Surprisingly, she follows, not that she has much of a choice.

"Bathe -- I am sending a tailor in to provide you with a wardrobe," I instruct her. "I do not think you stupid enough to attempt to escape, but if you should attempt to do so, know that your punishment will make last night look like nirvana. I will send a guard for you later, when I have attended to my other business."

I do not wait for her reply. Instead I exit quickly, resisting the temptation to ignore my packed schedule and waste the day in bed with the creature.




[A/N]: Please remember to review!