Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Deadly Embrace ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. However I do own Vegeta. He came to me of his own free will. Well I bribed him with a marathon sex and a GR, but he's mine just the same.

Or maybe not, but a girl can dream.

Chapter Four

Deadly Embrace

The woman was mad. It was obvious to everyone who had the misfortune to cross her path, but disturbingly, she wasn't displaying her usual signs of rage. There was no fire shooting from her hard blue eyes or insults spewing from her rosy mouth. His pathetic existence had been reduced to prodding her wrath, eagerly watching her eyes light with the challenge of taking him down a notch. Most of all he craved the zing of excitement that replaced his lethargy when she turned her razor sharp tongue on him.

This anger was far worse. It was unbearable. Unendurable. Hellish even.

It had been three whole days and she had not once spoken to him. Her silence was deafening, her hurt and resentment a vile miasma in the air. There was no doubt in his limited male mind that she was pissed, with a capital P. She didn't even spare him a glance as she swept regally into the room like a cold wind on a frozen plain. He, of course, followed their normal routine, ridiculing her intelligence and appearance as if by rote. Her face remained cool and impassive as she walked over to her desk, sorting through her papers. He snorted at first, amused by her attempt to ignore him, the Saiyan Prince. Didn't she know that she just invited him to do his worse?

His jeers became increasingly debasing until finally he settled on name calling. Bulma didn't even bat an eye. She reached over, flipping the switch to a little black box and the most horrific sounds began to pour out of it. He listened closely when the man's voice echoed from the device and found out that she was listening to music.

The second day she didn't even bother to let him get warmed up. Instead she sat down and turned on the radio immediately. She listen to Rammstein and Vegeta found that he didn't mind their sound. In fact he liked it quite a bit. It was dark and grating just like him. He smirked, inhaling deeply as he began to insult her over the volume of the music. Much to his despair, Bulma switched tactics and swiftly set about winning this new form of battle they had developed.

She turned the channel.

The announcer called it "the Eighties". Whatever that meant. All Vegeta knew was that it was that it was the worse thing he had ever heard. Or so he thought. He screamed at her to turn the racket off, instead she turned to look right at him. He felt a rush of victory course through his veins, but then her mouth popped opened.

He supposed you could call it singing. He would rather refer to it as caterwauling. She belted out the lyrics of the songs at the top of her lungs, drowning out his scornful remarks. For the rest of the night, she sang along to every song that came on and all he could do was fry her with his eyes. Over and over the same phrase repeated in his head.

I'm in hell. I've died and gone to hell and no one saw fit to inform me.

Now it was the third night and Vegeta eyed the bitch queen warily. She had turned on the radio again and she was listening to the station that he preferred, but he was hesitant to begin his daily regimen of insults. He grimaced in her direction. He couldn't allow himself to be intimidated by some weak female whose only weapon was her shrieking voice. He opened his mouth, but an image of Bulma singing along to "White Wedding Day" stopped him. He closed his mouth, sneering maliciously. This had to be hell, there was no other explanation. Honestly, he thought that there would be blue skinned ogres running about, wielding whips, but he supposed a blue haired harpy would do.

She stood up suddenly, switching off the music. She gathered up her papers and headed for the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" He rushed to the front of his cell. His answer was the swish of the lab doors closing. He turned around to kick the mangled cot in the corner before leaning up against the cool metal wall. He slid down onto the floor and rested his forehead on his upraised knees.

He was alone again.

The only sound he could hear was the hum of the lighting filament. Shadows shifted in the darkened lab beyond the pool of light that he huddled in. The whispers began and he clenched his eyes shut. For the millionth time since being imprisoned, Vegeta began his mediation, desperately walling up the dam in his mind that was threatening to give under the weight of his despair.

The shadows seethed and he could hear something scurry out in the lab. Yes, there was no doubt. He was in hell.

"Stupid monkey." Bulma muttered bitterly as she eyed her results.

She had never been so angry in her life and there had been some duzzies in the past. Yamcha cheating on her that one time, ranked right up there with the wrath of God, but that was nothing compared to how she felt about Vegeta and his vicious mouth. What was it about that Saiyan that brought out the worse in her? Whenever she was in his presence she felt purposely malicious. She took perverse delight in tormenting him and his behavior only encouraged her rudeness. In retrospect, him calling her a name shouldn't have made her as mad as it did, but she just couldn't contain the bitterness that welled up inside of her. It had to be him. She must be absorbing his black aura somehow. He was infecting her with his evil.

Bulma grimaced and rubbed her eyes, while tramping down her stupidity. The only thing that monkey was doing was driving her crazy.

She tested the formula once again. She had to be positive that it would work. Mistakes could not be made. After a week of solid work, she had finally completed construction of Vegeta's new cell. In order to keep pace with her normal deadlines, it was necessary to work on her ship during the day and construct Vegeta's new cell in the evenings. That meant she had to be subjected to his ugly presence, while depriving her of much needed rest. She was dead tired and she promised herself that she would take a day off and just sleep. There was just one last thing left to do.

She had to figure out how to move the Saiyan Prince.

She couldn't just unlock his cell and ask him to quietly move into the next one. The first thing he would try to do would be to escape, especially after she had subjected him to her musical stylings. A smirk formed on her lips as she thought about the look of horror that had crossed his face when she began to sing along with the songs on the radio. He looked both disgusted and oddly fascinated at the same time. Probably his version of a car wreck. It served him right for making her cranky.

He certainly wasn't going to stand still and let her shoot him again either. She could just imagine that conversation. "Hey Vegeta would you mind moving a little to the right so I can get a bead on you?" His response would not be child friendly she thought with a roll of her eyes.

Her best choice was to knock him unconscious and the way to do that was to tranquilize him. Again, she was brought back to the same dilemma. He wasn't going to let her shoot him and she wasn't about to get close enough to him to stick him with a needle.

She swirled the test tube, staring at the clear liquid. The only way to get the drug into the Saiyan's system was for him to ingest it. Since he wasn't going to voluntarily eat it, that meant she was going to have to slip it into his food. She had created the perfect compound for just that purpose. It was odorless, colorless and tasteless. Once it was given to him he should fall unconscious for no less than five hours. That was plenty of time to move him into his new quarters.

She felt a sickening wave of doubt as she put the tube back in the rack.

Vegeta watched the woman as she moved restlessly around the outer lab. She rarely appeared during the day and he wondered what she was up too. He shoved another mouthful of chicken curry in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He didn't really have an appetite, a fatal sign for a Saiyan, but he forced himself to eat out of preservation.

Bulma nibbled nervously at the end of her pencil, trying her hardest not to look at Vegeta while he ate. He put the plate down and pushed it away with a metallic scrape. He felt drowsy, more so than usual, but he assumed it was because of his failing health. He lay back on his pallet, turning his head to the side so he could watch the curious female.

She was at her desk now, sitting impossibly still with her hands clenched in her lap. Her behavior was unsettling and he tried to puzzle it out. He felt his lids becoming heavier and he blinked once or twice, the image of the woman becoming blurry. With a deep sigh he surrendered to the dark oblivion of sleep, leaving the enigma of women to a later time.

As soon as Bulma was certain that Vegeta had fallen asleep she jumped up, letting in the security detail that was waiting outside the lab doors. They had been briefed on Vegeta's unusual abilities and had been armed with special pistols that fired her serum. She wanted the move to go smoothly but she was prepared if it did not.

She held her breath as she disengaged the force field, but the Saiyan remained still. Five of the biggest men that she could find, rushed into the cell, picking up the prince and hauling him out of the room. She followed anxiously as they left the lab, heading for another one at the end of the corridor.

They entered the room and quickly proceeded into Vegeta's new cell. They placed him on the bed, stepping away hurriedly. Even unconscious, the sadistic man scared them. Bulma moved forward, her troubled eyes roaming over the sleeping Saiyan's countenance. He looked terrible and concern knotted in her stomach.

"Asuka, get my medical kit." She ordered her assistant. The woman's eyes widened a bit, before she nodded and scurried out of the room.

Bulma was worried about Vegeta. As mad as he made her, she wasn't inhuman. If he was ill, she needed to treat him. This would probably be the last time she would be able to get this close to examine him anyways.

Asuka rushed back in the room, stopping at the portal to the cage. Bulma sighed and stalked over, snatching the case for the frightened woman. She opened her kit on the bed, pulling out a needle to draw blood. She took his vitals, not paying attention to anything else.

Vegeta felt like he was under a thick woolen blanket. It was suffocating him, pressing down on his chest and coating his nose and mouth. He tried to move his limbs but they were leaden and his eyes were impossibly heavy. He felt a sharp prick in his arm and he began to claw his way to the surface of his mind. The instinct to survive overriding the urge to sleep.

The woman.

He could smell her, feel her, as her soft hands roved over his skin. She was right next to him. The hag had tried to poison him, but she had failed. He was still alive and he was going to punish her. He fought his way out of the deep abyss he had fallen into. His eyes crept open and he could see the fall of her aqua tresses around her shoulders, trailing down to his chest as she studied something on his arm.

With a muffled growl he reared up, startling the woman who tried to leap away. The poison was still flowing through his veins and his body responded sluggishly to his commands, but even in his drugged state he was quicker. He lunged towards her, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to the ground under him as he rolled off the bed.

He knelt over her, his strong hands wrapping around her dainty neck. How many times had he envisioned this very thing while he lain in his cell day after day. He felt elation bloom in his chest, mixing with the drug in his system. He felt distant, disembodied. In his hazy state he couldn't remember what exactly he had fantasized about. Did he want her lifeless beneath him or writhing in pleasure? He shook his head slightly, the images of his mind bleeding together, confusing him. The only thing that kept him anchored was the feel of her small fingers wrapped around his thick wrists, her nails digging into his flesh leaving half moon wounds.

"What have you done, Bitchess?" His raspy voice was low enough that only the two of them could hear it. He stared down into her shimmering blue eyes, so wide with fear that they were a sea of cerulean.

Bulma looked into the black eyes of her killer. She was drowning in the hate and anger that was pooled their. So much resentment swirled in those dark pits that it swamped her. She could not escape, she could not free herself. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen and her throat ached at the pressure of his hands.

Her tongue swelled and crystalline tears streamed endlessly from the corner of her eyes. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be murdered by him.

"Vegeta."

His name was a cracked whisper that penetrated the haze of euphoria that engulfed him. He watched the silent tears fall from her eyes, trailing down into her hair at her temples. Her tresses fanned out around her, like a halo of goodness. Her pale skin began to turn blue around her mouth, drawing his gaze to her ruby lips. He became entranced with their sweet curve and almost gently he lifted her upper body off the ground by her neck. Her small hands were still curled around his wrists and her head fell back, the fall of her hair making it heavy.

In the distance shouting could be heard and he felt a multitude of hands on his body, tearing at his shirt and pulling his hair, but all he saw was her face. He drew her closer, his tail winding tightly around her waist to hold her against him while his grip on her throat loosened slightly and his thumbs brushed over the thrumming of her pulse. How could such an exquisite creature be left undefended, open to attack from the monsters of the universe, such as himself? He was barely conscious and yet he held her easily, her thin neck a flick away from being snapped.

Bulma's eyes never left Vegeta's. The rushing of her blood in her ears drowned out the sounds of her rescuers. Her vision began to tunnel and white lights danced on the edges as his onyx eyes glittered down at her. He lifted her up, her lower body still pinned under his thighs as he sat back on her legs. A steel bar wrapped itself around her ribs, squeezing painfully, fitting her against his chest. Suddenly she was able to draw in the barest hint of air and she did so greedily. She watched in surreal wonder as Vegeta dipped his head down towards hers, the hate draining away from his eyes and igniting with dark desire.

His lips formed his pet name for her again. No sound only the motion. Bitchess. A silent caress of ownership. By naming her, he marked her, but for what she was uncertain. She trembled under him, entranced by him. Losing herself to his deadly embrace. Behind the wide expanse of his strong shoulders, Bulma could see her co-workers, tearing at the man who held her, desperately trying to pull him away.

His hot breath skimming over her cheek and her lips parted almost in welcome as her eyes rolled back in her head. His lips hovered above hers, searing her flesh with his heat, but then his entire body stiffened and the anger infused his steely gaze once again, before losing their light all together. He slumped against her, his body pinning her to the floor and his hands fell away from her neck.

She inhaled deeply as the freedom to breathe registered in her mind. She gaped at the ceiling, her brain unable to comprehend the last few seconds. She felt Vegeta being rolled away and precious second were wasted while they tried to pry his tail from around her waist. Although he was unconscious, his tail refused to release her, it flexed possessively, displaying dominance. Finally, she was freed and someone dragged her across the floor to the cell's exit. The person collapsed behind her and Bulma leaned into the comfort of their arms as she stared fixedly at Vegeta's crumpled form on the ground, noting the numerous serum darts jabbed into him.

A shimmer of yellow flashed as the force field burst into place, visibly reminding her of the peril she had just barely escaped. She shivered with fear as she rubbed her sore neck. The hate she had seen in Vegeta's eyes had been tangible. If he had been in his right mind and not drugged he would have killed her without remorse. What had she done? How was it possible that she, Bulma Briefs, the richest and most beautiful woman in the world, could be the inspiration of so much loathing? People loved her. They always loved her. She was perfect. Was she wrong to take someone's freedom from them, even if they were an unimaginable threat to the world? Was she really capable of being so horrible that another living being could despise her enough to kill her?

What frightened her most was not the hate she saw in his dark eyes, but the lust. She could not deny that she felt an attraction for the warrior, but to respond to him while he held her life in his hands was ludicrous. Why had he looked at her like that? Was it the drug? She eyed at the fallen man, watching closely for signs of life and feeling relief when he took a long steady breath. Why had he done it? Why had she?

Behind her, Asuka whimpered and Bulma silently agreed to her unspoken statement. Just what had she gotten them into?