Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Feeding Genius ❯ Bulma? ( Chapter 12 )

Feeding Genius

Chapter Twelve

Bulma?

Disclaimer- Yup don't own it.

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I knew I hated crowds for a reason. Now I have more weight to my distaste. Impatient, I get ready to intimidate my way through the mass of bodies. They seem to completely block the entrance of Master Suh's school for martial artists. It is as if they know my need to leave, and are resisting deliberately.

A select few chose to move as I growl deep in the throat, but the rest I have to push away. I cannot be gentle right now. Not when they separate me from her.

With a better view I am now almost positive the aquamarine hair belongs to Bulma. She turns slightly, begins to walk away from the window, and I catch a glimpse of long lashes and pouted cherry lips. Unmistakable. I was right to leave.

My progress is slow. In comparison to my usual movements it could almost be described as clumsy, made all the more infuriating, because Bulma's are the pinnacle of perfection. She floats and glides her way through the swarm of shoppers as though a ghost, leaving me frustrated. I have to bump though an assortment of limbs to make even the smallest of headway.

"Onna!" I hope that she will hear and allow me to catch up.

Nothing.

"Bulma!"

No luck. She is too far away and the noise and bustle around me blankets my voice. This is ridiculous! This requires a shift in tactics. So be it… I had not wished to create a scene, but now I'm left with little choice. My power surrounds me, and I prepare to physically manhandle my way through the rest of the shoppers. A creature steps in my path. He pauses a little too long. Grabbing the lapel of his shirt I throw him vehemently into the wall and it buckles under his weight.

It was an act of frustration. In theory, supposed to help me move quicker, but in truth, only creates a ruckus. Friends and overbearing Samaritans rush to the aid of the incapacitated creature, restricting my movement even more. Insufferable. A few impudent aliens approach me in demand of an explanation.

There are several ways I could deal with this. A few of them would encompass slow and torturous killing. It would be so easy to shut them up! One carefully denoted expelling of ki, just a flick of the wrist, and then nothing would separate me from her. I hate myself. She stops me from doing it. It would set her off on a tirade about protecting, not killing, the weak. On top of all the problems we will have to face, it would be damn near suicidal to merely incinerate them.

"Onna," I grumble, "you owe me another victory."

Continuing on foot is pointless. I lift my ki into an updraft of power and push myself from the floor.

Damn! She eludes my gaze. These stupid distractions have made me lose eye contact. I spin in midair doing a three hundred and sixty degree sweep. "Where the fuck did she disappear to?"

I close my eyes. There are too many ki signatures. I cannot differentiate them. What should be done next? Five minutes pass. I see nothing.

There is something so very repugnant in the idea of giving up, but I am not completely deranged yet, although it feels ever more likely. What good will be done if I stay longer? There is already a crowd gathering beneath me, whispering to each other and pointing.

I descend slightly under a sudden impulse. I have no concrete reason to head in this direction, but something, maybe a hidden and elusive sense is telling me that I need to go this way. To the left a series of raised platforms run along the edge of the great hall. Rows of makeshift stalls cluster and meander through the properly licensed shops. I am near the main training rooms. As I explore, the room expands, but even though the amount of alien livestock I have to search my way through has just trebled, I see it now… Aquamarine.

It is so clear, as though she glows apart from the rest of the throng, her light a beacon to me. How did I lose track of her so long?

I watch her progress for a while. I want to do more, but something stops me. What is wrong with me? My prey is only a second from being caught. Her near luminescent form is speaking openly to a couple of what look like wealthy Yuaku-jin merchants.

What the hell am I supposed to say to her? Is there, in truth, anything that has changed between us since she left, other than absence? A human in this same predicament, might say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I am not human, nor do I posses much of a heart, and although I have a yearning to touch, to taste, to smell and breathe in her very essence, almost to a painful degree - I also know there is too much to be gone over before it can be allowed. Is the feeling, which suddenly seems to grab me by the balls and allow me no motion one-way or the other, really fear?

No of course it isn't! What a ludicrous thought, and what an inapt tingling my body displays in it! I will not allow myself to be affected by this! Emotion never stops me, only makes me look harder for a way to overpower it! Right now it's only relief is movement, and even though I still have no idea what I'm going to say, or even how my presence will be received, I sweep down a few metres away.

Her words drift over me as I land, clear concise and businesslike. I drink her voice in. I have not heard it for three long months. To my degradation I realize I've missed it. "Here… have a leaflet," she enthuses, "and remember, whatever you desire to make your life more comfortable, the Capsule Corporation will make your dreams come true! Please drop by our newest outlet on Gleya Four whenever you are in the vicinity. Spread the word."

So she has set up a branch of her business here. There is logic in that. I see what you are up to woman. I would have helped - if you had asked, but that is all irrelevant now.

"I can promise you. There is nothing in the universe quite like it!"

She is practically purring her words. In combination with the scant red dress that teases its way up her thighs, and hangs too loosely around the cleavage as she bows, my restraint balances on the edge of a knife. One emotion is now inexorably replaced with another - anger. How dare she prostitute her body out to strangers in this manner? Such displays of sultriness should not belong to any other creature but me!

Foolish anger is somehow kept under control. It is hard. I just have to remind myself not to fuck things up even before they have found a beginning. A large breath. That is what I need. It has to be carefully from the chest, expelling as much of my anger as it can. I take it. Not nearly satisfying enough, but it will have to do.

She turns away from the merchants and myself. Intriguing - an opportunity to surprise her. She slows a little, and seizing my chance I speak.

"The president of the Capsule Corporation, handing out leaflets on a third rate space station, a bit beneath her station don't you think?"

Here it should come - The tensing of her shoulders, the flinch and flush my words always pour through her body, no matter how angry she is at me. I purposely give her time to understand the meaning and the speaker.

I am confused.

There is nothing. She looks as relaxed as ever, her shoulders devoid of stress or tension and I can even see the hint of a smile as it graces her lips under the flush of artificial lighting.

Anger I was expecting, insults I wanted, but happiness? It's unnerving!

What feels like an age, passes. Her amazing body turns to face me. "Well hello there!" she greets.

There is no emotion, not even the hint of recognition. Is she playing?

"Is that all you have to say? Not 'What the fuck are you doing here?' Or, 'How the hell did you find me?' or anything more relevant than hello?"

"I don't understand!" she smiles, "But that's ok sir. Would you care to spend five minutes of your valuable time to help with some important market research for an up and coming business in the universe? For five minutes of your time you will be rewarded with two VIP tickets to the commanders ball tonight."

There is shock, debilitating for longer than I would like. Then… disappointment. "Bulma?" I question, already knowing I will not be happy with the answer.

"Yes sir… Miss Bulma Briefs, president of the Capsule Corporation Empire, cordially invites you to take part." Her face betrays only one emotion, that of a painted and sickly smile.

One thing is painfully obvious. The thing in front of me is not Bulma. Whatever it is though, it is definitely created in her likeness. Indeed, frighteningly similar. The lack of sustenance in and around the eyes and the spiking of the ki are missing, but that is all. There is no emotion or recognition, nothing that gives me pleasure to see.

"Would you like to take a look at the forms sir and tell me if you have seen any of the following advertisements?"

The thing practically hustles the papers into my hands. It slinks closer to me as inducement to accept. I flinch. It disappears into my chest. There is the slightest hint of a flicker. It ripples its way through the image. I look it over curiously. "Of course. A hologram."

"Yes sir, capsule number forty five, the deluxe 285 model! Serial number…"

"I don't give a crap about all that."

The disgusting smile never falters. "Then shall we continue?"

"Continue?" I question.

"Yes sir. With the market research."

"I don't give a crap about your stupid research."

It's smile remains. "Then I am sorry to have taken up your time sir." It bows, "Have a nice day!" and moves away.

What the…? Ugh! The hologram must have certain protocols. Damn! I just said I didn't want to take the survey and so now it is leaving. I am not sure what to do. I thought I was tracking Bulma, but now to find out it is only a machine, it hits me harder than I would care to admit. I had hoped, and I am not sure how to handle my disappointment.

I am not, however, a creature that can dwell on such things long. My mind will not allow it. In an instant disappointment is replaced for resignation. I bow my head. "Wait!" I call out, running my fingers through the spikes of my hair. "I have changed my mind. I will take your idiotic survey!"

As trivial as it seems, at least I have concrete evidence now. Bulma has definitely been here. Perhaps she is still, but either way I am not going to find out more unless I keep the hologram speaking.

It turns under my summons, compliant, a very uncharacteristic movement for any image of my wife to display. "Thank you for your time sir!" It chirps. "Let us begin."

It repeats the question about advertising, and I answer as best I can, watching closely, hoping that doing this infernal research will find me a way of getting closer to the real Bulma.

I watch closely. No wonder I mistook this thing for my wife. It is the most technologically advanced hologram I have ever seen. There is practically no transparency to it at all. The skin, right down to the tiny hair follicles, is practically perfect. Only the eerie internal glow has not been totally erased, but certainly dulled enough to give weight to my mistake. Well at least I know why it practically glowed from above. It is not like me to be so mentally deranged under hope. When did pessimism give way long enough for it? Mistaking external energy for internal is something I would punish even Trunks for confusing.

"No." I reply sarcastically, to some absurdly placed photo, "I have never had the pleasure of using a five speed, triple heat, travel hairdryer."

"Is it a product you would consider using in the future?"

This lunacy has gone on long enough. My patience is about all worn out. "For the love of Dende!" I yell, "How many times do I have to say no before you'll shut the hell up and tell me where I can find Bulma or at least this new Capsule Corporation outlet?"

"Personal data on Miss Bulma Briefs' whereabouts has not been added to my programming sir, but the Capsule Corp emporium is on level twenty nine of retail district two." It holds out a hand. Light glows from the upturned palm and fragments into a very basic three-dimensional projection. Just like the computer terminal I stopped at to locate Master Suh's dojo it gives a pre-programmed route from my current location.

I trace the line with my finger, poking through the target in confirmation as to its location. "Excellent." I turn away.

"Sir! Sir!"

I ignore the incessant call of the hologram.

"Sir! Your tickets for the ball!"

I snort, "The Saiyan no Ouji never needs an invitation, machine. He will go when and wherever he pleases."

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I have not gone in the same direction as the hologram suggested. It will, however, be my destination soon enough. Patience, I have been told, is a virtue, and I am satisfied with the control I can display under it now. There was a time I can see, when my impatience was a considerable weakness. It will never be so again. Parenthood changes you in the most unlikely of ways. It is frightening when you have to think beyond yourself, and intriguing how easily you can feel yourself become accustomed to it.

I confess this journey so far has made me look at my own impulsiveness more thoroughly. There are certain aspects that I see are more trying for a parent than I would have ever learnt at Capsule Corporation, where my involvement with my son had never much broken the toleration level. Indecision is not something I usually fall victim to, but as I left the holograms presence, fully intent on learning about my wife. I remembered that Trunks was still with Master Suh.

It is unlikely that the brat would have come to any harm under her guardianship, but old acquaintances of mine are not the most reliable of childminders. Who knows what such a well-renowned creature, and empathizer such as herself, had suffered since my childhood? Her opinionated and sometimes too free tongue, made it very plausible that it had been considerably. If it can change me so much, then I have to be wary of how it might have affected others. Master Suh is the stronger warrior. If she chose to cross me, Trunks could do little to prevent her.

That was the thought that finally turned my feet and made me retract my path to Master Suh's dojo. There was of course no need for me to have been concerned. The lessons had finished ten minutes prior, and Trunks was very happily running up and down the length of the room, piling the large crash-mats into a neat pile as I returned.

Maek Suh came to meet me almost immediately, wanting to know in which section I was staying. My attention was only briefly held under the pettiness of small talk and nostalgia, but the mention of an acquaintance that had been asking specifically about the Saiyan survivors in recent months, made me take notice.

"What specifically has he been saying?" I asked.

"Well… you know. It started off with just little things. My connections to your father are very widely known. He asked if I had heard the rumours of it being a Saiyan that had taken down Frieza's empire? Over a better understanding it became more specific. Did I know what Saiyan had managed it? Whether I knew what planet the last of them were residing on? Things like that."

"And did he give you any clue as to why he wanted to know?"

"It never came up. I mean… I didn't really have a solid answer for any of his questions. You had a reputation well enough known for me to be able to keep track of you under the Ice-jin rule, but after that, no one would tell me anything. I'm guessing though, that a couple of the troop planets that disappeared shortly afterwards had something to do with you."

"They might." I replied with a grin, "So how much did you get for this information?"

"How much?"

"Oh come on! I wasn't born yesterday. All information on Gleya comes at a price."

She chuckled. "Ok! An old master has to subsidize her school somehow, but you don't want to know the price. You would probably kill me here and now, for accepting so little."

"I would more than likely kill you for giving the information in the first place." I growled. "Take it as future warning. I do not take kindly to people meddling in my affairs. More especially those I can actually tolerate."

"That is why the sooner you meet Faylorn the better."

"Faylorn?" I repeated. "The name sounds familiar. Did he serve in Frieza's army?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "He is from the Drelaxian consortium."

My eyebrows raised momentarily in shock. "No then." I agreed, "I guess he would not have served under Frieza. Their resistance faction survived?"

"Yes, just barely. Faylorn is son to the founder member. He more than likely already knows you are here."

"Then I will meet with him. Let him know as much."

She promised me that she would, and I told her to set up a meeting for the next night.

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Continuing with my lead on Bulma is now top priority. I am currently in my quarters, wondering just how I will go about it. It is especially hard to think of a way to find out with Trunks hanging about me, demanding some real training. I do not want him interfering with this. Not just because he will divide her attention from me, but also because it would not be suitable for the child to see any hostility between us.

I see now that I have no choice. I will have to leave him in the hands of the station crèche. I feel sorry for the creatures that will have to put up with such a highly charged child, and the threat of incineration should anything happen to him, but this is something I have to do.

My next course of action is something I would not consider normally, but I have to do my research. The mention the hologram made of the Commander's ball is intriguing. Such affairs are very deliberately kept to invitation only, and only those that are truly privileged or noted on the station are allowed to hand invites out themselves. This proves to me that Bulma has already made some major headway in the stations social structure. It is very plausible that I will be able to find out more if I attend.

Trunks is whining around my feet, asking me why I'm leaving him, but I pay him no mind. He should know by now that once I've made up my mind it is final. Such paltry shows of petulance hold no weight when plied in my direction.

I run my eyes through the wardrobe, but I have brought nothing with me that will be suitable for such an evening as this. Feh! What am I thinking! Does it matter what the hell I am wearing? I smirk. Well I always did like to make an entrance.

I pull out my usual dark blue training suit, but make sure to accompany it with full Saiyan armour. If the crest of Vegeta-sei is not high enough for their standings then I will just have to show them their mistake. I am a prince, and even though I have no throne, I will never lose sight of that. Anything that royalty chooses to be seen in is more than fitting for any occasion!

I snarl. I really do hate the thought of getting involved with such demeaning entertainment. Damn that woman! She will be the death of my pride.

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A/N - Sorry this chapter is a little late and short. I hope you enjoyed it none-the less.