Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Holey Hell ( Chapter 21 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: TemptingTemptation 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.25.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 5.5K | Visits: 12.5K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.25.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 5.5K | Visits: 12.5K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don’t own DBZ
Thanks to LisaB for her beta skills.
Chapter Twenty-One
Holey Hell
“You lying, little bitch!” Vegeta snarled in Bulma’s direction.
She was frantically double checking her coordinates, her spine tingling with dread. It had taken hours of nearly talking herself hoarse before she convinced Vegeta she hadn’t whored herself out at the Scarlet Club. He was certain, given her prior performance caterwauling to the “80’s,” that she couldn’t sing worth a damn. Finally, it took a threatening visit to the club owner, and a private audition from her to prove that she had remained true to him and herself.
Next it had taken some fancy silver-tongued talking to assure him that leaving Togeshi alive did not make him a fool. He was unreasonably angry that she was the one that secured the money they needed, not him. She didn’t fully understand how he could be more than willing to take her jewels, yet her having to perform for cash enraged him. He eventually cooled down and stopped yelling at her, but she could tell he was still angry. She could only surmise that somehow his male pride had taken a hit, and like every other man, he had to blame someone.
She would like to say it was all male pride, but there was something else. Something about his abandoned assassination that disturbed him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was different, changed somehow, and he was struggling within himself to come to terms with it. That was the true core of his anger. It was almost like he felt he was in danger, like he had taken the first step down a path that could only mean his complete and total destruction.
Since then they had lived with an uneasy truce. She didn’t mention anything to do with Earth or her past life, and he didn’t say anything more about killing her. That didn’t mean that those heavy thoughts weren’t pressing down on them. She could see the strain inside Vegeta every waking moment, and for her it plagued even her dreams. But the stress seemed to add an intensity to their relationship that she had never felt before.
When Vegeta touched her it felt like he set her world on fire. At odd moments in the day he would track her through the ship, room to room, until he found her. He would pin her to the spot with his glowing black eyes, paralyzing her moments before he pounced. He would drag her to the floor or press her against the nearest wall, fucking her like there was nothing else to live for except the taste of her flesh and the feel of her insides. He came at her like he wanted to devour her, and she acquiesced every time. Not out of fear, but out something deeper, more primal. She would tip her head back baring her slender throat to the beast inside of him, beckoning him to do his worse, knowing that he wouldn’t.
She lived in a state of hyper-sensation. Every shiver was ecstasy, and his every touch was bliss. She could feel him the moment his thoughts turned to her. Dark and foreboding. Sensual and poignant. He was like a raging summer storm that moved through the ship, seeking her--- his human lightning rod. She was so attuned to him that she could feel his emotions lay on her skin like a gossamer cloak, sometimes hot and heavy, other times breathless and airy. But at the moment it felt like hot rivers of lava streaming towards an innocent village.
“I should have known that I couldn’t trust you. You’re nothing but a classless whore who would do and say anything to save her skin.” Vegeta slammed his fist into the consol causing Bulma to jump away from the brightly colored sparks.
“No, Vegeta. I swear this is the right place. Namek should be here.” Bulma pointed to the view screen, complete despair and confusion written on her face.
“All I see is space dust.”
Vegeta was right. Bulma stared helplessly at the large cloud of dust that hung in space. Where there should have been a planet, there were only clods of dirt. The screen wavered, and Bulma blinked certain that her eyes were tearing. She blinked again when it didn’t go away.
“Vegeta, what is that?”
“Don’t try to change the subject, woman.”
“No, Vegeta. What is that?” Bulma repeated with earnest, pointing to the screen again.
Vegeta turned in time to see a shape take form out of the dust, revealing the curved proportions of a very large ship.
“Fuck,” Vegeta sneered with real dread.
“Fuck, what?” Bulma asked with a sinking stomach. When he didn’t reply she asked again.
“Fuck, what, Vegeta?”
“It’s King Cold’s flag ship,” Vegeta replied half-heartedly as he ran scenarios through his head. This was bad. So very bad.
“Who?” The look on Vegeta’s face was terrifying her. The last few weeks she had been privy to a half a dozen facial expressions from Vegeta, raging from anger to lust, but it was when he was completely devoid of emotion that he scared her. It meant he was shutting down, turning off and going to autopilot so he could deal with his constantly traumatic life.
When he didn’t respond she reached out to touch his arm, shivering at how cold he was.
“Vegeta?” she prompted.
“King Cold is Frieza’s father. There is no reason for him to be here unless there is trouble. Big trouble,” he muttered.
“Should we run?” Bulma was already looking at the navigational controls.
“Too late,” he said hollowly, causing her dread to stampede straight into panic.
A warning buzzer went off, and the lights blinked on the security panel. Before she could check it out the ship heaved forward nearly knocking her off her feet. Vegeta caught her, pulling her close to the security of his wide chest, wrapping his tail around her waist.
“They’re pulling us in.” Before she could respond he gripped her upper arms forcing her to stare up at him.
“Bulma, it’s very important that you do exactly as I say. You must behave like a proper slave. Always walk behind me, keep your head down, and whatever you do, do not speak. Do you understand me?”
Vegeta rarely, if ever, used her name. He always referred to her as woman, and when mad, as whore. She swallowed hard, nodding. He stared deep into her eyes, looking into her mind, making certain she truly understood.
They were in danger, deep, mortal danger.
He was already wanted by the Empire for his disappearance. If he failed to convince the King of his loyalty then he would be labeled as a traitor. At best, he would be executed, at worse he would endure years of torture, either way it would leave Bulma unprotected.
Vegeta stared down at her upturned face and wondered at the tug he felt in his chest. He warred with himself. He wanted to counsel her to commit suicide if anything were to happen to him. It would be a far kinder fate than finding herself in the hands of the King Cold or his lackeys. He opened his mouth, but the words couldn’t seem to make it passed the clog in his throat. The thought of her dead chilled his blood. He tried to remember his life before they had met, but all he could see was a whirlwind of death and chaos.
His grip on her upper arms tightened as he tried to imagine his life without her. His mind condemned his half-dead heart. Such thoughts were ridiculous. He would continue as he always had. A forgotten prince, a lonely soldier. A killer for the Empire.
Her eyes darkened in question, but before he could say anything the ship docked, signaling that they were out of time.
Vegeta released Bulma, barely able to coax his tail away. He turned towards the door, straightening his spine. The wayward sparkle in his eyes died and cold steel melted over his face, freezing it into an emotionless mask. The tug in his chest disappeared, and the emptiness of his soul returned as he stepped through the door to make his way to the outer hatch to greet Cold’s troops.
Bulma walked in silence behind Vegeta. Even though they merely walked along a corridor, the advanced technology of the ship was evident everywhere she looked. She should have been bubbling with excitement, but Vegeta’s grave warning and the icy dread in his eyes spread fear through every inch of her body.
She looked around expecting to see bloody bits of bodies on the floor and soldiers fornicating in the halls. Vegeta reaction told her that he considered this ship to be a floating hell, suspended in time, never changing, always tormenting, but the cleanliness surprised her. The inhabitants moved passed them unspeaking, running smoothly like mechanoids, completely unemotional. It was not the hell that she had imagined, and that only made her fear multiply.
Four men in white uniforms with deep purple mantles escorted them through the ship, eventually leading them to a set of doors.
“Your rooms, Prince Vegeta. I trust you will find everything in order. There should be a set of formal armor as well. King Cold wishes to see you immediately.”
The guard stepped to the side, sweeping his arm in a welcoming motion, but the smile on his face was anything but. Cold chills ran down her insides, and Bulma instantly dropped her gaze as she scurried behind Vegeta.
The guards waited outside as they entered the room. Vegeta wasted no time crossing the room to disappear behind another door. Bulma glanced around, taking in her lush surroundings. The sitting room was carpeted with a plush cream rug that beckoned her to take off her shoes and sink her toes into. In the center were a set of deep off-white couches and chair, surrounding a beautiful coffee table made of some mysterious white wood she had never seen before. To the side was a well stocked bar, and several trinkets decorated the room, making it seem quite cozy. It had everything one would need to entertain. It was definitely not how she imagined Vegeta’s room being.
The door opened and Vegeta walked through, nearly stealing her breath. He was dressed in pearl white armor that shimmered as he moved. It was slashed with red, and draped over his shoulder a crimson cape fell in waves nearly to the floor. The gleam of the armor contrasted with his tanned skin, making him look exotic and impossibly, even deadlier. He held himself with a regal air that screamed royalty.
He would be breathtaking if it wasn’t for the stone-cold mask that shaped his features. He was unquestionably royal, none other than the prince of death.
Vegeta stalked up to her, gazing down at her and for a moment Bulma thought she saw a flicker of emotion behind his frozen façade.
“You will stay in here. Do not leave, and do not open the door for anyone but me.”
“Is really as dangerous as that?” His dire warning seemed unreasonable now that she had seen the orderliness of the ship.
“Yes.” The one word reply was solemn, convincing her of the truth of it. Whether or not she could see it, danger lurked just outside the door, and she had no wish to invite it in. She nodded her head in acceptance, and without another word he left. As the door closed behind him, she caught a glimpse of one of the guards leering into the room. She shuddered at the knowledge that she was on a ship filled with monsters, and she had to rely on one of their own to keep her safe.
Vegeta entered the conference room stoically. Across the room a bank of windows revealed the black velvet of space that was densely studded with stars. Amidst the stars, like a blot of gravy on a pristine table cloth, was a gathering of brown dust and clods of dirt. He still couldn’t believe that Bulma had led him astray, and worse they had run smack into the person he least wanted to see, King Cold.
He slit his eyes, his pupils dilating until he could eventually see two shadows outlined against the starlight. The two forms stepped forward, and Vegeta hid his surprise. King Cold he expected, Cooler, his first born son, maybe, but mostly Vegeta had been sure that Frieza would be present. However he was conspicuously absent.
Vegeta’s dread began to boil in his stomach, and he had to force himself not to shift his weight nervously. No matter how much he hated his lizard master, there was always a sense of security while in his presence. Vegeta constantly pushed the limit with Frieza, defying him at every turn, taunting him with his unbroken pride, but in the end he was always forgiven. It disgusted Vegeta, turned his stomach, but he knew that the lizard favored him, and he exploited that knowledge unashamedly. Even with the sin of desertion lingering over his head, Vegeta had walked into this room confident that he would be punished, and eventually forgiven, but now…now he may not walk away at all.
Vegeta bowed before the royals, just barely meeting the standard for civility. King Cold’s upper lip curled upwards into a mocking smile while Cooler merely sneered.
“Ahh, Prince Vegeta, it has been too long.” Frieza rarely visited his father, the responsibility of running his own domain keeping him much too busy. However, when Vegeta was younger he had often visited this ship, hence his rooms and a set of armor.
“Last Mayson, I believe.” Mayson was a religious holiday that was celebrated every ten years by the Ice-jinn. Vegeta eyes flickered over to Cooler while he spoke, taking in the hint of excitement that Cooler couldn’t quite hide behind his cold reptilian eyes. Although he was older, he was still leashed to his father’s side. Unlike Frieza, he was too stupid to rule on his own and was never granted his own domain. He was jealous and bitter, and he was Frieza’s worst enemy, King Cold’s too, if Cooler ever became powerful enough to usurp his father.
Vegeta didn’t answer; instead he waited to see what they would reveal to him.
“You’ve been away for quite some time. I know my son has missed his darling monkey.”
Vegeta tailed curled tighter around his waist at the insulting nickname. “Where is Lord Frieza? I must speak to him.”
“He’s indisposed right now.”
“Yes, so tragic.” Cooler practically purred, and trepidation knifed down Vegeta spine at his tone.
King Cold shot a chastising look at his eldest son, before turning back to speak to Vegeta. “Whatever you have to say you can say to me.”
Vegeta knew his best hope for salvation lay in convincing his master that he hadn’t deserted him, but how could he do that if he could not speak to him?
“My words are for Lord Frieza alone.”
“Sweet nothings?” Cooler snickered, causing Vegeta’s fur to stiffen on his tail as he snarled at the lizard.
“I’m his father; we share everything,” Cold cooed, setting Vegeta’s teeth on edge.
“I don’t think so. I demand to be taken to Frieza,” Vegeta spat.
King Cold slammed the goblet he had been holding down, nearly shattering it on the sideboard.
“Listen up, you little runt. Frieza may be your master, but you seemed to have forgotten that I am Lord here. You have been missing for nearly two years. You have some explaining to do, starting with the completion of the purge on Anodes.”
Had it been so long? Vegeta wondered. Everything seemed to have passed so quickly. It had taken a year just to get to Earth. How long had he been held captive by his witch? Six months, seven? How many months had they taken to get to Namek? How many weeks had he wallowed in the luxury of her arms, tasting her sweet skin, relishing her every cry? Vegeta shook his head, concentrating on the here and now. Trapped, Vegeta had no choice but to try and convince the King of the Ice-jinns that he was no traitor. His only hope was that Cold could not see into his darkest heart, where rebellion lived and breathed.
“Raditz came to me before we left for Anodes. He told me that there was a chance that his brother was still alive. He asked permission to collect him, to add his strength to Frieza’s army.” A bald face lie, but they really couldn’t prove differently now that Raditz was dead. Vegeta had sent his bodyguard to Earth with the intention of secreting Kakarot away until the time that they needed him to defeat Frieza. How quickly that plan had gone to hell in a handbasket.
“And you sent him without permission from Frieza?”
Vegeta had to choose his words carefully. Frieza was notorious for his eccentric ways. He would micromanage the tiniest thing and yet completely dismiss large purges. Mostly Zarbon, his second, took care of the details, while Frieza gorged himself on the fruits of his soldier’s labors.
“Lord Frieza could not be bothered with the details of a petty mission.”
“His soldiers being sent out to roam freely throughout the universe to recruit new soldiers does not sound petty to me.”
Vegeta was unable to contain his disgusted look. If Frieza was here he wouldn’t have to concern himself with such small details, but as it was he had to explain everything.
“Firstly, we are never free to roam anywhere. Secondly, Raditz is a third class warrior conducting a fruitless search for another third class warrior. Raditz was insignificant to both me and Frieza.”
“If you were sure the search would be fruitless, why send him?”
Vegeta snorted. “Its obvious you never spent any time with the idiot. I’ve had more enlightening conversations with the rock golems of Tembra. Not to mention he was worse than a hyper two year old. I was glad to be rid of him.”
King Cold rolled his eyes seeming to accept Vegeta’s explanation. Vegeta’s anti-social ways were well known, and it wasn’t unthinkable that he would send one his men on a wild goose chase just to be rid of him for awhile.
“Then what happened?”
“It was after the purge on Anodes. We were sitting at our camp when Raditz’s voice came over the scouter. We listened to his last words as he died.”
When Vegeta didn’t say more King Cold prompted him. “And those were?”
“Just the coordinates of the planet he was on and the name of his killer.”
“What was the planet’s name?”
There was something about the look in Cold’s eye that made Vegeta nervous. He made a snap decision to lie, not knowing why, but instinct told him that revealing the name of the planet would be death.
“I don’t know.”
King Cold looked unconvinced, but he let it pass. “And the name of the killer?”
“Kakarot, his brother.” Genuine surprise showed on King Cold’s face at Vegeta’s response.
“He was killed by his own brother?” Cooler asked, just as surprised and a little awed.
Vegeta shrugged, knowing that they really didn’t require him to repeat himself.
“Of course, you were upset about the death of your teammate.”
It was a trap. Everyone knew that he would never be upset about something so trivial. Trivial to him, at least. They wanted to see if he would take the out. They wanted to catch him in something, but Vegeta wasn’t sure what it was yet.
“I could care less about that pathetic excuse of a warrior,” Vegeta sneered. “However, I couldn’t let his death go unpunished.”
King Cold and Cooler nodded their head in understanding. Whether or not Raditz was important didn’t matter. What was important was that no one raised their fist against a warrior of the Empire without punishment. They suspected that it was more personal for Vegeta. By killing his man, Kakarot was declaring disrespect for the prince, and that would not be born by some as prideful as Vegeta.
“And when you landed?” Cold questioned.
“We engaged some of the enemy warriors.”
“Some?”
“They kept saying that some hero would be coming.” The voice of instinct clamored again, warning him to hide Kakarot’s human name.
“What happened to Nappa?” Cooler broke in, earning him a glare from his father.
Vegeta had suspected for some time that Nappa was spying on him. Blood and birthright only gained him so much loyalty. Living in Frieza’s court stripped away everything you had. Honor, loyalty, morality and left you with only one thing. An instinct to survive. Vegeta now realized that Nappa had been working for Cooler. He should have known. Stupid sticks to stupid.
“He was a fool. He let his guard down, and one of the enemy warriors blew him to bits.”
Vegeta knew better than to confess that Nappa had survived, and he had taken the opportunity to rid himself of spy. Better to let them think that he fell in battle. There was no way for them to know differently.
“A Saiyan was blown to bits?” Cooler asked incredulously.
“The enemy sacrificed his own life force to kill Nappa. It was total self destruction.”
Silence echoed in the room as the Ice-jinn digested that piece of information. The power of self sacrifice was well documented throughout the universe. It was a rare event, usually brought on by strong emotions to protect those the warrior loved. Every soldier dreaded encountering such a warrior, and every purge was preceded by silent prayers not to meet such a warrior that day.
King Cold dismissed the silence with a wave of his hand. “And then?”
“Kakarot came.”
King Cold and Cooler waited expectantly for Vegeta to finish. To tell the truth would sacrifice his pride, to lie could mean his death. Vegeta warred within himself, almost convincing himself that sacrificing his pride was not worth it. He took a deep breath ready to condemn himself when the floral scent of Bulma filled his nostrils. Although he had changed his clothes her scent still covered his skin, just as her body had covered his earlier that day.
“We fought. It was a glorious battle. I tasted my enemy’s blood, and victory pounded through my veins.”
“But?”
Vegeta opened his mouth to lie. He readied himself for the killing blow, knowing that no lie he could concoct would be convincing. There would be no way he could explain away his lengthy absence unless he told the truth, the sickening, pride-killing truth.
“A coward hiding among the rocks attacked my back, infecting me with a virus that leached my ki away like a hungry parasite.”
Vegeta couldn’t believe the words that poured out of his mouth. He could feel his pride wilting with every breath he took.
King Cold and Cooler exchanged looks of disgust. Only weaklings used ki-draining techniques to defeat their enemies, and only pathetic bastards fell for their tactics.
“When I awoke, I was caged and powerless. It took me months to escape, and just as long to find my way here, to Frieza.”
King Cold stared at Vegeta for the longest time, searching his emotionless face for a flicker of anything, but all he saw was cold defiance.
“I see. What you say must be true. I can not imagine you telling such a tale, unless it was so.” King Cold’s face was filled with distaste, and Vegeta felt his pride cry out in protest. Why had he not lied? Now King Cold thought he was nothing more than a worm to be stepped on. All his years of proving himself went down the drain. No doubt the king would counsel his son to put his favorite pet out of his misery.
“So your disappearance wasn’t a mutiny. You were merely detained?”
“That is correct.” Vegeta felt all his strength drain away. He wanted no more than to find a corner to lie down and die.
“So you are loyal to the empire?”
“Of course.” Vegeta could barely speak with the taste of ash in his mouth.
The door to the conference room slid open, and a man wearing a blue coat identifying him as being from the medical unit, stood silently waiting for King Cold to acknowledge him.
With a nod, the king stepped away, leaving Vegeta and Cooler to stare at each other.
“Where’s Frieza?” Vegeta knew that Cooler would answer him. There was something about he set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eyes that told Vegeta that he couldn’t wait to relay the news.
“Haven’t you heard? My dear brother got himself in a spot of trouble on the planet.”
“Planet?”
“Yes, all that dust floating around used to be Namek. Now I’m afraid it’s just a footnote in the tale of an epic battle.”
So Bulma had been right. She had taken him to Namek just as she promised.
“Battle? What the hell is going on?”
Cooler chuckled in delight. There was nothing he liked more than a little gossip, especially if it involved the disgrace of his brother.
“What’s the matter, Vegeta? Didn’t you get your news updates while you were playing prison rat to an inferior race?”
Vegeta sneered, but didn’t bother to answer; he knew that Cooler would spill the news without anymore prompting from him.
“Anyways, it seems that Frieza met his match. He destroyed the entire planet in order to annihilate his foe. We picked him up floating in space a few hours ago. It’s a good thing he sent two of his men after us before the fight or we might not have gotten to him in time.” The bitterness in his voice was evident, and Vegeta couldn’t help but to smile coldly at his despair. Cooler had been so close to becoming number one in his father’s eyes, only to be shot down by Frieza’s foresight.
“He’s alive then?”
“For now. He was badly…damaged. He hasn’t gained consciousness yet.” Vegeta had not doubt that Cooler was already working on a way to make sure that Frieza never did, but that wasn’t his concern. What he really needed to know was who beat Frieza so badly. He would make a magnificent alley or a deadly enemy.
“I’m sure he’ll be sleeping for a while,” Vegeta fished for more information.
“Not if Father has anything to say about it,” Cooler responded sullenly.
“Why?”
“Father is certain that Frieza won the battle, after all he’s his son, but he is anxious to find out who wounded his precious baby boy so he can go to his planet, and punish the entire race along with anyone who may have had anything to do with this.”
Vegeta’s instincts were screaming in warning again. Something wasn’t right. Kakarot couldn’t have possibly been strong enough to defeat Frieza. It had to be a different warrior. One from Namek perhaps. Dread tingled down his spine, and all the spit dried up in his mouth.
“Didn’t the two soldiers that contacted you know?”
“Who? Zarbon and that pink slob? They had no idea.” Cooler sounded unconvincing. He was hiding something. Not only from Vegeta, but also from his father. He was playing a dangerous game, and Vegeta feared that he was caught in the middle.
King Cold walked away from the doctor, an angry set to his brows. “So we are clear, Vegeta, why don’t you start from the beginning again?”
From the look on Cold’s face he dared not disobey. He took a deep breath and started again.
~*~
No sooner had Vegeta left, did Bulma start poking around. She was on her third drawer, her back to the door when a green-skinned man entered. As noiseless as a silent film he crept up behind her, clamping his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.
Quickly and quietly he dragged her from the room, and like that she was gone, the only hint of her presence was a lonely open drawer.
He took her to the bowels of the ship in utter silence, never speaking, barely even breathing heavy, though she struggled violently. It wasn’t until they reached their destination that the noise began. They forced her to kneel before them as they asked her questions, and when she refused to answer, she screamed bright beams of light.
~*~
Zarbon entered the room, and Cooler hurried over to speak with him. Vegeta watched them with narrowed eyes, but he couldn’t make out the words.
“Well, it seems that we are done here.” Vegeta wrenched his attention back King Cold as he spoke. “You can go back to your rooms now.”
Vegeta sketched out a bow and swallowed to soothe his dry throat. It had been years since he had to speak so much, and he was unused to such activity.
As he neared the door, Cooler stopped him. “It seems that your woman confirmed your story. At least some parts. Apparently she wasn’t present during Nappa’s death, though we probed quite thoroughly.”
Vegeta looked up sharply, noticing Cooler’s sly sneer and Zarbon’s easy smile. Zarbon only got that look after he tortured someone. It relaxed him. It was better than sex, he said.
“You had best fetch her,” Zarbon said lazily as he curled the tail of his braid around one long finger.
“Where?” Vegeta spat, trying to ignore that tremors of terror that were rippling down his tail.
“Someplace you’re intimately familiar with. Down, down, down.”
Cooler pointed to the floor beneath their feet, and Vegeta knew exactly what they were talking about. Although he had spent most of his time in the dungeons of Frieza’s ship, he had no doubt that they were exactly the same on his father’s. He turned on his heel, trying desperately trying not to appear too frantic as he exited the room. As soon as the door closed, he increased his speed until he became only flashes of light. He had to get to her as soon as possible. He had no doubt that Bulma wouldn’t be able to withstand the torture very long before her mind snapped.
Hardened warriors could barely withstand it, and many didn’t. It was a torture whispered about on distant planets. Grown men had nightmares about it. Purgatory, Damnation, Hell.
The Hole.
Thanks to LisaB for her beta skills.
Chapter Twenty-One
Holey Hell
“You lying, little bitch!” Vegeta snarled in Bulma’s direction.
She was frantically double checking her coordinates, her spine tingling with dread. It had taken hours of nearly talking herself hoarse before she convinced Vegeta she hadn’t whored herself out at the Scarlet Club. He was certain, given her prior performance caterwauling to the “80’s,” that she couldn’t sing worth a damn. Finally, it took a threatening visit to the club owner, and a private audition from her to prove that she had remained true to him and herself.
Next it had taken some fancy silver-tongued talking to assure him that leaving Togeshi alive did not make him a fool. He was unreasonably angry that she was the one that secured the money they needed, not him. She didn’t fully understand how he could be more than willing to take her jewels, yet her having to perform for cash enraged him. He eventually cooled down and stopped yelling at her, but she could tell he was still angry. She could only surmise that somehow his male pride had taken a hit, and like every other man, he had to blame someone.
She would like to say it was all male pride, but there was something else. Something about his abandoned assassination that disturbed him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was different, changed somehow, and he was struggling within himself to come to terms with it. That was the true core of his anger. It was almost like he felt he was in danger, like he had taken the first step down a path that could only mean his complete and total destruction.
Since then they had lived with an uneasy truce. She didn’t mention anything to do with Earth or her past life, and he didn’t say anything more about killing her. That didn’t mean that those heavy thoughts weren’t pressing down on them. She could see the strain inside Vegeta every waking moment, and for her it plagued even her dreams. But the stress seemed to add an intensity to their relationship that she had never felt before.
When Vegeta touched her it felt like he set her world on fire. At odd moments in the day he would track her through the ship, room to room, until he found her. He would pin her to the spot with his glowing black eyes, paralyzing her moments before he pounced. He would drag her to the floor or press her against the nearest wall, fucking her like there was nothing else to live for except the taste of her flesh and the feel of her insides. He came at her like he wanted to devour her, and she acquiesced every time. Not out of fear, but out something deeper, more primal. She would tip her head back baring her slender throat to the beast inside of him, beckoning him to do his worse, knowing that he wouldn’t.
She lived in a state of hyper-sensation. Every shiver was ecstasy, and his every touch was bliss. She could feel him the moment his thoughts turned to her. Dark and foreboding. Sensual and poignant. He was like a raging summer storm that moved through the ship, seeking her--- his human lightning rod. She was so attuned to him that she could feel his emotions lay on her skin like a gossamer cloak, sometimes hot and heavy, other times breathless and airy. But at the moment it felt like hot rivers of lava streaming towards an innocent village.
“I should have known that I couldn’t trust you. You’re nothing but a classless whore who would do and say anything to save her skin.” Vegeta slammed his fist into the consol causing Bulma to jump away from the brightly colored sparks.
“No, Vegeta. I swear this is the right place. Namek should be here.” Bulma pointed to the view screen, complete despair and confusion written on her face.
“All I see is space dust.”
Vegeta was right. Bulma stared helplessly at the large cloud of dust that hung in space. Where there should have been a planet, there were only clods of dirt. The screen wavered, and Bulma blinked certain that her eyes were tearing. She blinked again when it didn’t go away.
“Vegeta, what is that?”
“Don’t try to change the subject, woman.”
“No, Vegeta. What is that?” Bulma repeated with earnest, pointing to the screen again.
Vegeta turned in time to see a shape take form out of the dust, revealing the curved proportions of a very large ship.
“Fuck,” Vegeta sneered with real dread.
“Fuck, what?” Bulma asked with a sinking stomach. When he didn’t reply she asked again.
“Fuck, what, Vegeta?”
“It’s King Cold’s flag ship,” Vegeta replied half-heartedly as he ran scenarios through his head. This was bad. So very bad.
“Who?” The look on Vegeta’s face was terrifying her. The last few weeks she had been privy to a half a dozen facial expressions from Vegeta, raging from anger to lust, but it was when he was completely devoid of emotion that he scared her. It meant he was shutting down, turning off and going to autopilot so he could deal with his constantly traumatic life.
When he didn’t respond she reached out to touch his arm, shivering at how cold he was.
“Vegeta?” she prompted.
“King Cold is Frieza’s father. There is no reason for him to be here unless there is trouble. Big trouble,” he muttered.
“Should we run?” Bulma was already looking at the navigational controls.
“Too late,” he said hollowly, causing her dread to stampede straight into panic.
A warning buzzer went off, and the lights blinked on the security panel. Before she could check it out the ship heaved forward nearly knocking her off her feet. Vegeta caught her, pulling her close to the security of his wide chest, wrapping his tail around her waist.
“They’re pulling us in.” Before she could respond he gripped her upper arms forcing her to stare up at him.
“Bulma, it’s very important that you do exactly as I say. You must behave like a proper slave. Always walk behind me, keep your head down, and whatever you do, do not speak. Do you understand me?”
Vegeta rarely, if ever, used her name. He always referred to her as woman, and when mad, as whore. She swallowed hard, nodding. He stared deep into her eyes, looking into her mind, making certain she truly understood.
They were in danger, deep, mortal danger.
He was already wanted by the Empire for his disappearance. If he failed to convince the King of his loyalty then he would be labeled as a traitor. At best, he would be executed, at worse he would endure years of torture, either way it would leave Bulma unprotected.
Vegeta stared down at her upturned face and wondered at the tug he felt in his chest. He warred with himself. He wanted to counsel her to commit suicide if anything were to happen to him. It would be a far kinder fate than finding herself in the hands of the King Cold or his lackeys. He opened his mouth, but the words couldn’t seem to make it passed the clog in his throat. The thought of her dead chilled his blood. He tried to remember his life before they had met, but all he could see was a whirlwind of death and chaos.
His grip on her upper arms tightened as he tried to imagine his life without her. His mind condemned his half-dead heart. Such thoughts were ridiculous. He would continue as he always had. A forgotten prince, a lonely soldier. A killer for the Empire.
Her eyes darkened in question, but before he could say anything the ship docked, signaling that they were out of time.
Vegeta released Bulma, barely able to coax his tail away. He turned towards the door, straightening his spine. The wayward sparkle in his eyes died and cold steel melted over his face, freezing it into an emotionless mask. The tug in his chest disappeared, and the emptiness of his soul returned as he stepped through the door to make his way to the outer hatch to greet Cold’s troops.
Bulma walked in silence behind Vegeta. Even though they merely walked along a corridor, the advanced technology of the ship was evident everywhere she looked. She should have been bubbling with excitement, but Vegeta’s grave warning and the icy dread in his eyes spread fear through every inch of her body.
She looked around expecting to see bloody bits of bodies on the floor and soldiers fornicating in the halls. Vegeta reaction told her that he considered this ship to be a floating hell, suspended in time, never changing, always tormenting, but the cleanliness surprised her. The inhabitants moved passed them unspeaking, running smoothly like mechanoids, completely unemotional. It was not the hell that she had imagined, and that only made her fear multiply.
Four men in white uniforms with deep purple mantles escorted them through the ship, eventually leading them to a set of doors.
“Your rooms, Prince Vegeta. I trust you will find everything in order. There should be a set of formal armor as well. King Cold wishes to see you immediately.”
The guard stepped to the side, sweeping his arm in a welcoming motion, but the smile on his face was anything but. Cold chills ran down her insides, and Bulma instantly dropped her gaze as she scurried behind Vegeta.
The guards waited outside as they entered the room. Vegeta wasted no time crossing the room to disappear behind another door. Bulma glanced around, taking in her lush surroundings. The sitting room was carpeted with a plush cream rug that beckoned her to take off her shoes and sink her toes into. In the center were a set of deep off-white couches and chair, surrounding a beautiful coffee table made of some mysterious white wood she had never seen before. To the side was a well stocked bar, and several trinkets decorated the room, making it seem quite cozy. It had everything one would need to entertain. It was definitely not how she imagined Vegeta’s room being.
The door opened and Vegeta walked through, nearly stealing her breath. He was dressed in pearl white armor that shimmered as he moved. It was slashed with red, and draped over his shoulder a crimson cape fell in waves nearly to the floor. The gleam of the armor contrasted with his tanned skin, making him look exotic and impossibly, even deadlier. He held himself with a regal air that screamed royalty.
He would be breathtaking if it wasn’t for the stone-cold mask that shaped his features. He was unquestionably royal, none other than the prince of death.
Vegeta stalked up to her, gazing down at her and for a moment Bulma thought she saw a flicker of emotion behind his frozen façade.
“You will stay in here. Do not leave, and do not open the door for anyone but me.”
“Is really as dangerous as that?” His dire warning seemed unreasonable now that she had seen the orderliness of the ship.
“Yes.” The one word reply was solemn, convincing her of the truth of it. Whether or not she could see it, danger lurked just outside the door, and she had no wish to invite it in. She nodded her head in acceptance, and without another word he left. As the door closed behind him, she caught a glimpse of one of the guards leering into the room. She shuddered at the knowledge that she was on a ship filled with monsters, and she had to rely on one of their own to keep her safe.
Vegeta entered the conference room stoically. Across the room a bank of windows revealed the black velvet of space that was densely studded with stars. Amidst the stars, like a blot of gravy on a pristine table cloth, was a gathering of brown dust and clods of dirt. He still couldn’t believe that Bulma had led him astray, and worse they had run smack into the person he least wanted to see, King Cold.
He slit his eyes, his pupils dilating until he could eventually see two shadows outlined against the starlight. The two forms stepped forward, and Vegeta hid his surprise. King Cold he expected, Cooler, his first born son, maybe, but mostly Vegeta had been sure that Frieza would be present. However he was conspicuously absent.
Vegeta’s dread began to boil in his stomach, and he had to force himself not to shift his weight nervously. No matter how much he hated his lizard master, there was always a sense of security while in his presence. Vegeta constantly pushed the limit with Frieza, defying him at every turn, taunting him with his unbroken pride, but in the end he was always forgiven. It disgusted Vegeta, turned his stomach, but he knew that the lizard favored him, and he exploited that knowledge unashamedly. Even with the sin of desertion lingering over his head, Vegeta had walked into this room confident that he would be punished, and eventually forgiven, but now…now he may not walk away at all.
Vegeta bowed before the royals, just barely meeting the standard for civility. King Cold’s upper lip curled upwards into a mocking smile while Cooler merely sneered.
“Ahh, Prince Vegeta, it has been too long.” Frieza rarely visited his father, the responsibility of running his own domain keeping him much too busy. However, when Vegeta was younger he had often visited this ship, hence his rooms and a set of armor.
“Last Mayson, I believe.” Mayson was a religious holiday that was celebrated every ten years by the Ice-jinn. Vegeta eyes flickered over to Cooler while he spoke, taking in the hint of excitement that Cooler couldn’t quite hide behind his cold reptilian eyes. Although he was older, he was still leashed to his father’s side. Unlike Frieza, he was too stupid to rule on his own and was never granted his own domain. He was jealous and bitter, and he was Frieza’s worst enemy, King Cold’s too, if Cooler ever became powerful enough to usurp his father.
Vegeta didn’t answer; instead he waited to see what they would reveal to him.
“You’ve been away for quite some time. I know my son has missed his darling monkey.”
Vegeta tailed curled tighter around his waist at the insulting nickname. “Where is Lord Frieza? I must speak to him.”
“He’s indisposed right now.”
“Yes, so tragic.” Cooler practically purred, and trepidation knifed down Vegeta spine at his tone.
King Cold shot a chastising look at his eldest son, before turning back to speak to Vegeta. “Whatever you have to say you can say to me.”
Vegeta knew his best hope for salvation lay in convincing his master that he hadn’t deserted him, but how could he do that if he could not speak to him?
“My words are for Lord Frieza alone.”
“Sweet nothings?” Cooler snickered, causing Vegeta’s fur to stiffen on his tail as he snarled at the lizard.
“I’m his father; we share everything,” Cold cooed, setting Vegeta’s teeth on edge.
“I don’t think so. I demand to be taken to Frieza,” Vegeta spat.
King Cold slammed the goblet he had been holding down, nearly shattering it on the sideboard.
“Listen up, you little runt. Frieza may be your master, but you seemed to have forgotten that I am Lord here. You have been missing for nearly two years. You have some explaining to do, starting with the completion of the purge on Anodes.”
Had it been so long? Vegeta wondered. Everything seemed to have passed so quickly. It had taken a year just to get to Earth. How long had he been held captive by his witch? Six months, seven? How many months had they taken to get to Namek? How many weeks had he wallowed in the luxury of her arms, tasting her sweet skin, relishing her every cry? Vegeta shook his head, concentrating on the here and now. Trapped, Vegeta had no choice but to try and convince the King of the Ice-jinns that he was no traitor. His only hope was that Cold could not see into his darkest heart, where rebellion lived and breathed.
“Raditz came to me before we left for Anodes. He told me that there was a chance that his brother was still alive. He asked permission to collect him, to add his strength to Frieza’s army.” A bald face lie, but they really couldn’t prove differently now that Raditz was dead. Vegeta had sent his bodyguard to Earth with the intention of secreting Kakarot away until the time that they needed him to defeat Frieza. How quickly that plan had gone to hell in a handbasket.
“And you sent him without permission from Frieza?”
Vegeta had to choose his words carefully. Frieza was notorious for his eccentric ways. He would micromanage the tiniest thing and yet completely dismiss large purges. Mostly Zarbon, his second, took care of the details, while Frieza gorged himself on the fruits of his soldier’s labors.
“Lord Frieza could not be bothered with the details of a petty mission.”
“His soldiers being sent out to roam freely throughout the universe to recruit new soldiers does not sound petty to me.”
Vegeta was unable to contain his disgusted look. If Frieza was here he wouldn’t have to concern himself with such small details, but as it was he had to explain everything.
“Firstly, we are never free to roam anywhere. Secondly, Raditz is a third class warrior conducting a fruitless search for another third class warrior. Raditz was insignificant to both me and Frieza.”
“If you were sure the search would be fruitless, why send him?”
Vegeta snorted. “Its obvious you never spent any time with the idiot. I’ve had more enlightening conversations with the rock golems of Tembra. Not to mention he was worse than a hyper two year old. I was glad to be rid of him.”
King Cold rolled his eyes seeming to accept Vegeta’s explanation. Vegeta’s anti-social ways were well known, and it wasn’t unthinkable that he would send one his men on a wild goose chase just to be rid of him for awhile.
“Then what happened?”
“It was after the purge on Anodes. We were sitting at our camp when Raditz’s voice came over the scouter. We listened to his last words as he died.”
When Vegeta didn’t say more King Cold prompted him. “And those were?”
“Just the coordinates of the planet he was on and the name of his killer.”
“What was the planet’s name?”
There was something about the look in Cold’s eye that made Vegeta nervous. He made a snap decision to lie, not knowing why, but instinct told him that revealing the name of the planet would be death.
“I don’t know.”
King Cold looked unconvinced, but he let it pass. “And the name of the killer?”
“Kakarot, his brother.” Genuine surprise showed on King Cold’s face at Vegeta’s response.
“He was killed by his own brother?” Cooler asked, just as surprised and a little awed.
Vegeta shrugged, knowing that they really didn’t require him to repeat himself.
“Of course, you were upset about the death of your teammate.”
It was a trap. Everyone knew that he would never be upset about something so trivial. Trivial to him, at least. They wanted to see if he would take the out. They wanted to catch him in something, but Vegeta wasn’t sure what it was yet.
“I could care less about that pathetic excuse of a warrior,” Vegeta sneered. “However, I couldn’t let his death go unpunished.”
King Cold and Cooler nodded their head in understanding. Whether or not Raditz was important didn’t matter. What was important was that no one raised their fist against a warrior of the Empire without punishment. They suspected that it was more personal for Vegeta. By killing his man, Kakarot was declaring disrespect for the prince, and that would not be born by some as prideful as Vegeta.
“And when you landed?” Cold questioned.
“We engaged some of the enemy warriors.”
“Some?”
“They kept saying that some hero would be coming.” The voice of instinct clamored again, warning him to hide Kakarot’s human name.
“What happened to Nappa?” Cooler broke in, earning him a glare from his father.
Vegeta had suspected for some time that Nappa was spying on him. Blood and birthright only gained him so much loyalty. Living in Frieza’s court stripped away everything you had. Honor, loyalty, morality and left you with only one thing. An instinct to survive. Vegeta now realized that Nappa had been working for Cooler. He should have known. Stupid sticks to stupid.
“He was a fool. He let his guard down, and one of the enemy warriors blew him to bits.”
Vegeta knew better than to confess that Nappa had survived, and he had taken the opportunity to rid himself of spy. Better to let them think that he fell in battle. There was no way for them to know differently.
“A Saiyan was blown to bits?” Cooler asked incredulously.
“The enemy sacrificed his own life force to kill Nappa. It was total self destruction.”
Silence echoed in the room as the Ice-jinn digested that piece of information. The power of self sacrifice was well documented throughout the universe. It was a rare event, usually brought on by strong emotions to protect those the warrior loved. Every soldier dreaded encountering such a warrior, and every purge was preceded by silent prayers not to meet such a warrior that day.
King Cold dismissed the silence with a wave of his hand. “And then?”
“Kakarot came.”
King Cold and Cooler waited expectantly for Vegeta to finish. To tell the truth would sacrifice his pride, to lie could mean his death. Vegeta warred within himself, almost convincing himself that sacrificing his pride was not worth it. He took a deep breath ready to condemn himself when the floral scent of Bulma filled his nostrils. Although he had changed his clothes her scent still covered his skin, just as her body had covered his earlier that day.
“We fought. It was a glorious battle. I tasted my enemy’s blood, and victory pounded through my veins.”
“But?”
Vegeta opened his mouth to lie. He readied himself for the killing blow, knowing that no lie he could concoct would be convincing. There would be no way he could explain away his lengthy absence unless he told the truth, the sickening, pride-killing truth.
“A coward hiding among the rocks attacked my back, infecting me with a virus that leached my ki away like a hungry parasite.”
Vegeta couldn’t believe the words that poured out of his mouth. He could feel his pride wilting with every breath he took.
King Cold and Cooler exchanged looks of disgust. Only weaklings used ki-draining techniques to defeat their enemies, and only pathetic bastards fell for their tactics.
“When I awoke, I was caged and powerless. It took me months to escape, and just as long to find my way here, to Frieza.”
King Cold stared at Vegeta for the longest time, searching his emotionless face for a flicker of anything, but all he saw was cold defiance.
“I see. What you say must be true. I can not imagine you telling such a tale, unless it was so.” King Cold’s face was filled with distaste, and Vegeta felt his pride cry out in protest. Why had he not lied? Now King Cold thought he was nothing more than a worm to be stepped on. All his years of proving himself went down the drain. No doubt the king would counsel his son to put his favorite pet out of his misery.
“So your disappearance wasn’t a mutiny. You were merely detained?”
“That is correct.” Vegeta felt all his strength drain away. He wanted no more than to find a corner to lie down and die.
“So you are loyal to the empire?”
“Of course.” Vegeta could barely speak with the taste of ash in his mouth.
The door to the conference room slid open, and a man wearing a blue coat identifying him as being from the medical unit, stood silently waiting for King Cold to acknowledge him.
With a nod, the king stepped away, leaving Vegeta and Cooler to stare at each other.
“Where’s Frieza?” Vegeta knew that Cooler would answer him. There was something about he set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eyes that told Vegeta that he couldn’t wait to relay the news.
“Haven’t you heard? My dear brother got himself in a spot of trouble on the planet.”
“Planet?”
“Yes, all that dust floating around used to be Namek. Now I’m afraid it’s just a footnote in the tale of an epic battle.”
So Bulma had been right. She had taken him to Namek just as she promised.
“Battle? What the hell is going on?”
Cooler chuckled in delight. There was nothing he liked more than a little gossip, especially if it involved the disgrace of his brother.
“What’s the matter, Vegeta? Didn’t you get your news updates while you were playing prison rat to an inferior race?”
Vegeta sneered, but didn’t bother to answer; he knew that Cooler would spill the news without anymore prompting from him.
“Anyways, it seems that Frieza met his match. He destroyed the entire planet in order to annihilate his foe. We picked him up floating in space a few hours ago. It’s a good thing he sent two of his men after us before the fight or we might not have gotten to him in time.” The bitterness in his voice was evident, and Vegeta couldn’t help but to smile coldly at his despair. Cooler had been so close to becoming number one in his father’s eyes, only to be shot down by Frieza’s foresight.
“He’s alive then?”
“For now. He was badly…damaged. He hasn’t gained consciousness yet.” Vegeta had not doubt that Cooler was already working on a way to make sure that Frieza never did, but that wasn’t his concern. What he really needed to know was who beat Frieza so badly. He would make a magnificent alley or a deadly enemy.
“I’m sure he’ll be sleeping for a while,” Vegeta fished for more information.
“Not if Father has anything to say about it,” Cooler responded sullenly.
“Why?”
“Father is certain that Frieza won the battle, after all he’s his son, but he is anxious to find out who wounded his precious baby boy so he can go to his planet, and punish the entire race along with anyone who may have had anything to do with this.”
Vegeta’s instincts were screaming in warning again. Something wasn’t right. Kakarot couldn’t have possibly been strong enough to defeat Frieza. It had to be a different warrior. One from Namek perhaps. Dread tingled down his spine, and all the spit dried up in his mouth.
“Didn’t the two soldiers that contacted you know?”
“Who? Zarbon and that pink slob? They had no idea.” Cooler sounded unconvincing. He was hiding something. Not only from Vegeta, but also from his father. He was playing a dangerous game, and Vegeta feared that he was caught in the middle.
King Cold walked away from the doctor, an angry set to his brows. “So we are clear, Vegeta, why don’t you start from the beginning again?”
From the look on Cold’s face he dared not disobey. He took a deep breath and started again.
~*~
No sooner had Vegeta left, did Bulma start poking around. She was on her third drawer, her back to the door when a green-skinned man entered. As noiseless as a silent film he crept up behind her, clamping his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.
Quickly and quietly he dragged her from the room, and like that she was gone, the only hint of her presence was a lonely open drawer.
He took her to the bowels of the ship in utter silence, never speaking, barely even breathing heavy, though she struggled violently. It wasn’t until they reached their destination that the noise began. They forced her to kneel before them as they asked her questions, and when she refused to answer, she screamed bright beams of light.
~*~
Zarbon entered the room, and Cooler hurried over to speak with him. Vegeta watched them with narrowed eyes, but he couldn’t make out the words.
“Well, it seems that we are done here.” Vegeta wrenched his attention back King Cold as he spoke. “You can go back to your rooms now.”
Vegeta sketched out a bow and swallowed to soothe his dry throat. It had been years since he had to speak so much, and he was unused to such activity.
As he neared the door, Cooler stopped him. “It seems that your woman confirmed your story. At least some parts. Apparently she wasn’t present during Nappa’s death, though we probed quite thoroughly.”
Vegeta looked up sharply, noticing Cooler’s sly sneer and Zarbon’s easy smile. Zarbon only got that look after he tortured someone. It relaxed him. It was better than sex, he said.
“You had best fetch her,” Zarbon said lazily as he curled the tail of his braid around one long finger.
“Where?” Vegeta spat, trying to ignore that tremors of terror that were rippling down his tail.
“Someplace you’re intimately familiar with. Down, down, down.”
Cooler pointed to the floor beneath their feet, and Vegeta knew exactly what they were talking about. Although he had spent most of his time in the dungeons of Frieza’s ship, he had no doubt that they were exactly the same on his father’s. He turned on his heel, trying desperately trying not to appear too frantic as he exited the room. As soon as the door closed, he increased his speed until he became only flashes of light. He had to get to her as soon as possible. He had no doubt that Bulma wouldn’t be able to withstand the torture very long before her mind snapped.
Hardened warriors could barely withstand it, and many didn’t. It was a torture whispered about on distant planets. Grown men had nightmares about it. Purgatory, Damnation, Hell.
The Hole.