Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Closer ❯ Swerve ( Chapter 20 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Vegeta-Sugar-Sweet 
Things take a turn...and one comes to terms with actions.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.17.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 659 | Status: Work In Progress
Things take a turn...and one comes to terms with actions.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.17.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 659 | Status: Work In Progress
Do not own…you know the drill. Thanks for the feedback. I had no idea I had so many readers. I’m very lucky. Thank you all.
‘The floor is cold…so cold. How did I get here?’ he thought. His head was turned to the side tilting his point of view. He remembered that he was the happiest he’d ever been. He had the love of his life and she was his forever. No one could stop them…but how had he gotten on the damn floor? He shivered. ‘Where is my Ki? Why can’t I keep warm on this goddamn floor?’ He couldn’t even move, all he could do was stare straight ahead toward the airlock door that was slightly ajar.
Blood trickled down his forehead…it was cold too. His memories were fuzzy making him feel slow and stupid. Drip, drip, drip sounded the blood as it fell down onto the tile. He tried to think of the events that led him to this frigid fucking floor…and a breakthrough… of sorts.
Struggling to remember he went back to the time when, amid the chaos surrounding King Vegeta, he had slipped into Prince Vegeta’s room. He knew she would be there. He also had the inside knowledge that Bulma slept like a rock, giving him the advantage. Yamcha reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out a syringe. Creeping like a cat toward the bed, predator approached prey. He noticed her hair had changed. It was still blue but now highlighted with strands of spun gold. The change made her even more beautiful if that were even possible. Stretching out, he lightly stroked her hair. Bulma moaned a bit and smirked. The word “Vegeta…” came bumbling from her luscious lips shredding his heart that beat only for her. Yamcha frowned, remembering he had a job to do.
He steadied himself and said a little prayer. He knew he was doing what was right. As fast as he could he jabbed the needle into Bulma’s neck. She looked up wide-eyed and shocked. She reached up and tried to stop his hand but her movements were sluggish. Her arm dropped, eyes drooped, and sleep became her companion. Yamcha released his breath. ‘That went better than I thought.’ Yamcha scooped up his sleeping beauty and made his way to the balcony, were he hopped off and flew as fast as he could to the ship that waited for him.
Now on the floor he tried to smile at that memory. He was her hero, saved her from a life with a soul-less beast. So why was he on the floor? Did Bulma do this to him and leave him to freeze…to die? Racking his brain for a plausible answer, he was sickened as the horrifying pieces of the puzzle came together…
Yamcha was on his way home with his soon to be bride, or at least she will be his bride once he convinced her of the evils of her Vegeta and his ilk. He didn’t bother to contact Bulma’s father as he wanted to surprise him with the appearance of his daughter. He couldn’t wait to recount the tale of how he risked life and limb to save this fair maiden. Surely she would worship him for the rest of his days. Yamcha smiled as he remembered that...
Still remembering, he checked on Bulma and she was still out cold and thankfully still breathing. He was wary of the concoction handed to him by Grace to use on Bulma. He knew she wanted to kill her in the worst way, the more excruciating and painful the better. However she assured him that this was a Saiyan anesthetic and when diluted, could knock out anyone, especially a human, for days with no issues. Yamcha took this information and mulled it over. Deciding that he still did not trust Grace, he used a bit of the diluted solution on a small rat-like animal he had captured. He injected the rodent and waited on pins and needles. The subject was still but breathing normally as if sleeping. Two days later, the creature woke up, stretched, and appeared as if nothing happened. Just to be safe, Yamcha monitored the rodent for an additional day. The animal ate, roamed around, and slept…just as it normally should. Feeling safe, he knew utilizing the liquid would serve his purposes.
He remembered he was being hailed by a communication request. King Cold’s symbol, a picture of his cupped hands holding the universe came on the screen. Yamcha remembered feeling a annoyed. He knew who it was but he had told them that he would be fine on his own. After blowing out a puff of air, he punched the answer button.
“Yes…”drawled a tired Yamcha.
An enormous bubble-gum colored mass appeared on the screen before him. The being had knots all over his body. He had no neck to speak of, and it was a wonder how they found armor big enough for his rotund body.
He parted his purple lips and spoke, “You don’t sound happy to see me,” Dodoria pouted as prettily as he could.
“No, I just didn’t expect you. I told you I would be fine.”
“I am very sure of your capabilities,” Dodoria answered, “but my master has asked that I see you home to ensure the treaty will go as planned.”
“I assure you, after Dr. Briefs hears what you have to say about the Saiyans and their total disregard for life in general, he will be glad to supply you with whatever you need to defeat them” Yamcha said with bravado.
Yamcha remembered he had promised to supply the Cold Empire with all the technology they would ever need as he was “engaged” to the heiress to a scientific genius and her father ran his world’s most advanced technological firm in the history of his planet. He bragged that is was Bulma who made a training facility for the Saiyans. He didn’t know how it worked, but they seemed pleased with it.
Dodoria couldn’t wait to tell his master of his findings. Falling to his knees before his Lord, the faithful servant relayed the pertinent information and awaited direction. Immediately Frieza had given permission to acquire the girl by any means necessary. So Dodoria played along being concerned with Yamcha’s safety and showing concern for how Bulma could be in the hands of those brutish Saiyans. He went on to promise protection from any retribution he might encounter for aiding the Colds. Yamcha was grateful to have another comrade in arms and readily accepted the proposal.
“Ok, Dodoria, ok,” said Yamcha throwing his hands up.
The enormous form tipped up the corner of his mouth in a smirk. “So,” he began as he leaned into the video screen “did you get her?”
Yamcha’s eyes were over-bright with excitement. He didn’t even speak, just pressed the button to open a second smaller screen and shared it with Dodoria.
There she was sleeping peacefully in the bed chamber. Yamcha was too overcome with joy to notice the greedy grin of his supposed comrade.
A blaring alarm went off within the ship, jolting the kidnapper into reality. “Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Someone forgot to turn on the security system!” sounded Bulma’s voice through the console. Yamcha panicked worked its way through his body as he wondered who would attack him. Not to worry though, he had a friend looking out for him. He remembered turning to the video monitor to request help from his friend Dodoria, but found nothing but a black screen. Yamcha’s face went white. He tried over and over frantically to contact Dodoria only to receive static.
If Bulma were awake, she could help him! He remembers getting up to make his way to the comatose girl but was stopped by the airlock opening. Dodoria, in the flesh pondered through the door with a smug smile upon his bloated face. Yamcha was surprised, and a bit miffed.
He remembered he charged over to his visitor, pissed off. “Dodoria! You nearly scared me to---“ before he could finish, Dodoria thrust his meaty paw into the stomach of Yamcha, piercing the skin and rupturing a few internal organs. Dodoria jerked back his blood covered appendage. A smirk went across his face, “Too easy,” Dodoria spat with distain down as Yamcha doubled over in excruciating pain.
Yamcha fully remembers now, that he sank to the floor in pain and shock. His eyes rolled up into his skull and then he must have blacked out…..
Now with Yamcha’s essence draining from his body over the tile, drip by drip, he never felt so alone. He summoned what was left of his willpower to shift his gaze over to where Bulma lay…or laid? He blinked and tried to focus, as he figured he was hallucinating. He tried again to stare at the bed where his lady love was peacefully resting.
His mind slowly began to register she was gone, and Dodoria was responsible. ‘Oh, shit,” he thought. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Oh, how gullible he had been. Driven by his ambition to have his prize, he became blind to his dangerous deals and risks. If Dodoria took him down with one punch, he could never challenge the Cold’s. He could never rectify this on his own; Bulma is as good as lost. He should just give in to the darkness, now tugging on his soul. Just as he closed his eyes, and decided to become one with the afterlife, he remembered his pocket. Shutting his eyes, he prayed…he prayed like he never did before. ‘Please Kami, I must find a way to make this better, won’t you please help me?’
Sweat beaded his bloody forehead as his trembling hand finally reached its destination. Grasping the contents with a death-grip he brought his trophy forth. Sliding her hand up his side he finally made it to his mouth. He placed the small round object in his mouth and bit down on it. He chewed the Sensu bean with all his might and then waited. Warmth began to spread through his tired body as the energy flowed through him at a cellular level. His pain began to subside, as his abdomen returned to normal, his sternum repaired, and his internal organs returned to normal. A few minutes later, he was well enough to stand. He would need to clean the floor of his blood, but first things first, he had to change course. He knew he would die, he accepted his fate. He set course for the auto-pilot; was going back to Vegeta-sei to get help for Bulma.
‘The floor is cold…so cold. How did I get here?’ he thought. His head was turned to the side tilting his point of view. He remembered that he was the happiest he’d ever been. He had the love of his life and she was his forever. No one could stop them…but how had he gotten on the damn floor? He shivered. ‘Where is my Ki? Why can’t I keep warm on this goddamn floor?’ He couldn’t even move, all he could do was stare straight ahead toward the airlock door that was slightly ajar.
Blood trickled down his forehead…it was cold too. His memories were fuzzy making him feel slow and stupid. Drip, drip, drip sounded the blood as it fell down onto the tile. He tried to think of the events that led him to this frigid fucking floor…and a breakthrough… of sorts.
Struggling to remember he went back to the time when, amid the chaos surrounding King Vegeta, he had slipped into Prince Vegeta’s room. He knew she would be there. He also had the inside knowledge that Bulma slept like a rock, giving him the advantage. Yamcha reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out a syringe. Creeping like a cat toward the bed, predator approached prey. He noticed her hair had changed. It was still blue but now highlighted with strands of spun gold. The change made her even more beautiful if that were even possible. Stretching out, he lightly stroked her hair. Bulma moaned a bit and smirked. The word “Vegeta…” came bumbling from her luscious lips shredding his heart that beat only for her. Yamcha frowned, remembering he had a job to do.
He steadied himself and said a little prayer. He knew he was doing what was right. As fast as he could he jabbed the needle into Bulma’s neck. She looked up wide-eyed and shocked. She reached up and tried to stop his hand but her movements were sluggish. Her arm dropped, eyes drooped, and sleep became her companion. Yamcha released his breath. ‘That went better than I thought.’ Yamcha scooped up his sleeping beauty and made his way to the balcony, were he hopped off and flew as fast as he could to the ship that waited for him.
Now on the floor he tried to smile at that memory. He was her hero, saved her from a life with a soul-less beast. So why was he on the floor? Did Bulma do this to him and leave him to freeze…to die? Racking his brain for a plausible answer, he was sickened as the horrifying pieces of the puzzle came together…
Yamcha was on his way home with his soon to be bride, or at least she will be his bride once he convinced her of the evils of her Vegeta and his ilk. He didn’t bother to contact Bulma’s father as he wanted to surprise him with the appearance of his daughter. He couldn’t wait to recount the tale of how he risked life and limb to save this fair maiden. Surely she would worship him for the rest of his days. Yamcha smiled as he remembered that...
Still remembering, he checked on Bulma and she was still out cold and thankfully still breathing. He was wary of the concoction handed to him by Grace to use on Bulma. He knew she wanted to kill her in the worst way, the more excruciating and painful the better. However she assured him that this was a Saiyan anesthetic and when diluted, could knock out anyone, especially a human, for days with no issues. Yamcha took this information and mulled it over. Deciding that he still did not trust Grace, he used a bit of the diluted solution on a small rat-like animal he had captured. He injected the rodent and waited on pins and needles. The subject was still but breathing normally as if sleeping. Two days later, the creature woke up, stretched, and appeared as if nothing happened. Just to be safe, Yamcha monitored the rodent for an additional day. The animal ate, roamed around, and slept…just as it normally should. Feeling safe, he knew utilizing the liquid would serve his purposes.
He remembered he was being hailed by a communication request. King Cold’s symbol, a picture of his cupped hands holding the universe came on the screen. Yamcha remembered feeling a annoyed. He knew who it was but he had told them that he would be fine on his own. After blowing out a puff of air, he punched the answer button.
“Yes…”drawled a tired Yamcha.
An enormous bubble-gum colored mass appeared on the screen before him. The being had knots all over his body. He had no neck to speak of, and it was a wonder how they found armor big enough for his rotund body.
He parted his purple lips and spoke, “You don’t sound happy to see me,” Dodoria pouted as prettily as he could.
“No, I just didn’t expect you. I told you I would be fine.”
“I am very sure of your capabilities,” Dodoria answered, “but my master has asked that I see you home to ensure the treaty will go as planned.”
“I assure you, after Dr. Briefs hears what you have to say about the Saiyans and their total disregard for life in general, he will be glad to supply you with whatever you need to defeat them” Yamcha said with bravado.
Yamcha remembered he had promised to supply the Cold Empire with all the technology they would ever need as he was “engaged” to the heiress to a scientific genius and her father ran his world’s most advanced technological firm in the history of his planet. He bragged that is was Bulma who made a training facility for the Saiyans. He didn’t know how it worked, but they seemed pleased with it.
Dodoria couldn’t wait to tell his master of his findings. Falling to his knees before his Lord, the faithful servant relayed the pertinent information and awaited direction. Immediately Frieza had given permission to acquire the girl by any means necessary. So Dodoria played along being concerned with Yamcha’s safety and showing concern for how Bulma could be in the hands of those brutish Saiyans. He went on to promise protection from any retribution he might encounter for aiding the Colds. Yamcha was grateful to have another comrade in arms and readily accepted the proposal.
“Ok, Dodoria, ok,” said Yamcha throwing his hands up.
The enormous form tipped up the corner of his mouth in a smirk. “So,” he began as he leaned into the video screen “did you get her?”
Yamcha’s eyes were over-bright with excitement. He didn’t even speak, just pressed the button to open a second smaller screen and shared it with Dodoria.
There she was sleeping peacefully in the bed chamber. Yamcha was too overcome with joy to notice the greedy grin of his supposed comrade.
A blaring alarm went off within the ship, jolting the kidnapper into reality. “Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Someone forgot to turn on the security system!” sounded Bulma’s voice through the console. Yamcha panicked worked its way through his body as he wondered who would attack him. Not to worry though, he had a friend looking out for him. He remembered turning to the video monitor to request help from his friend Dodoria, but found nothing but a black screen. Yamcha’s face went white. He tried over and over frantically to contact Dodoria only to receive static.
If Bulma were awake, she could help him! He remembers getting up to make his way to the comatose girl but was stopped by the airlock opening. Dodoria, in the flesh pondered through the door with a smug smile upon his bloated face. Yamcha was surprised, and a bit miffed.
He remembered he charged over to his visitor, pissed off. “Dodoria! You nearly scared me to---“ before he could finish, Dodoria thrust his meaty paw into the stomach of Yamcha, piercing the skin and rupturing a few internal organs. Dodoria jerked back his blood covered appendage. A smirk went across his face, “Too easy,” Dodoria spat with distain down as Yamcha doubled over in excruciating pain.
Yamcha fully remembers now, that he sank to the floor in pain and shock. His eyes rolled up into his skull and then he must have blacked out…..
Now with Yamcha’s essence draining from his body over the tile, drip by drip, he never felt so alone. He summoned what was left of his willpower to shift his gaze over to where Bulma lay…or laid? He blinked and tried to focus, as he figured he was hallucinating. He tried again to stare at the bed where his lady love was peacefully resting.
His mind slowly began to register she was gone, and Dodoria was responsible. ‘Oh, shit,” he thought. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Oh, how gullible he had been. Driven by his ambition to have his prize, he became blind to his dangerous deals and risks. If Dodoria took him down with one punch, he could never challenge the Cold’s. He could never rectify this on his own; Bulma is as good as lost. He should just give in to the darkness, now tugging on his soul. Just as he closed his eyes, and decided to become one with the afterlife, he remembered his pocket. Shutting his eyes, he prayed…he prayed like he never did before. ‘Please Kami, I must find a way to make this better, won’t you please help me?’
Sweat beaded his bloody forehead as his trembling hand finally reached its destination. Grasping the contents with a death-grip he brought his trophy forth. Sliding her hand up his side he finally made it to his mouth. He placed the small round object in his mouth and bit down on it. He chewed the Sensu bean with all his might and then waited. Warmth began to spread through his tired body as the energy flowed through him at a cellular level. His pain began to subside, as his abdomen returned to normal, his sternum repaired, and his internal organs returned to normal. A few minutes later, he was well enough to stand. He would need to clean the floor of his blood, but first things first, he had to change course. He knew he would die, he accepted his fate. He set course for the auto-pilot; was going back to Vegeta-sei to get help for Bulma.