Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Of Stars, Steam, and Pride ❯ 01 ( Chapter 1 )

AN: Written for the 2016 Literary Fanfic Challenge on The Prince and The Heiress's community. And thanks to those who voted, I got FIRST PLACE ^_^ I'm super honored and stunned guys, thank you!! You should seriously check out the other entires, they were all SO GOOD. Really, I was so blown away by the competition, I thought for sure they would win, haha. Come check out the community too if you're also a mad vegebul fan! :D

*Of Stars, Steam, and Pride*

By LadyVegeets, (beta-read by Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp)

~Part 1~

It's a truth universally known that where there is technology, there is Bulma. Or at least, it was universally known by those who knew her, which Chi Chi did.

“Bulma!”

Bulma frowned, scowling at the machinery, trying to ignore her friend's voice that was getting closer. Bulma wiped sweat from her brow and adjusted the mechanical sight over her left eye to better look at the meter. She was quite proud of the invention - it was a standard military scouter that she had upgraded and tweaked to be used not for spotting enemies in the distance, but for tiny imperfections and leaks in the pipe-works. However, it wasn't doing her much good now because the meter was still giving her strange readings. It just didn't make sense. The warning alarm wasn't going off, there was no alert, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that anything was wrong… other than the fact that the East sector was reportedly getting no steam. No steam meant no power. No power meant no forcefield. No forcefield meant -

“BULMA! OH MY GOSH, just LOOK at you!”

Bulma sat up from under the pipes, staring at the pretty yet aggravated face of her friend. Chi Chi glared down at her, her mouth pursed in a little moue bow, her fists perched on her frilled hips, looking gorgeous in her outfit and terrifying in her rage.

“Bulma, you're a MESS,” Chi Chi spat, her eyes dragging over her friend.

Bulma looked down at herself, wincing in agreement. They had been on their way to the ball when Bulma, in typical fashion, had passingly glanced at one of the city wall's readers, a small device that allowed engineers to see the wall's energy output (it was her job after all, off-duty or not, and she had an almost obsessive compulsion to check one whenever she walked past), and that's when she'd noticed the odd reading. And of course, being Bulma, she couldn't leave well enough alone, so she had come down into the bowels of the city wall's defenses and tried to see if she could puzzle out the anomaly, all the while wearing one of her most expensive dresses that was now covered in dust and grease. She could feel her hair coming out from her pins, the intense heat from the boilers making her sweat. Which meant her makeup was probably also melting. Peachy.

Bulma pushed the eye piece up into her hair, fixing it like a large pin, ready to be whipped back down at a moment's notice of some mechanical failure. Bulma always did prefer functional over fashionable, although if she could manage both, all the better. “It's fine, Chi Chi. Nothing five minutes in the powder room won't fix,” she hoped.

“Twenty-five years hasn't fixed you yet, and I doubt another twenty-five will,” Chi Chi lamented, helping her friend to her feet and trying to dust off the worst of the damage. She sighed, clucking her tongue. “See? This is why you aren't married yet. Who would want to wed this?”

Bulma scowled at her friend, not liking Chi Chi's constant nagging about matrimony. “I don't see a ring on your finger either, Chi Chi. Maybe you should worry more about yourself and less about me,” Bulma shot back hotly.

Chi Chi sighed, her look softening. “Bulma, honey. You know I don't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to look out for what's best for you. I don't know why you didn't accept that boy's proposal from the Collins estate… Yamcha. He was sweet, he liked you-”

“Liked my money,” Bulma corrected sourly. “At least, more than he liked me. And liked the call girls a lot more than he ever liked me.” She scowled at the memory before looking at her friend. “Chi Chi, I don't even need to get married. If I do, I want it to be for the right reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Love. Not just affection but a deep, burning, consuming passion, someone who is my equal, who enjoys adventure, intellectual pursuits, romance!”

Chi Chi rolled her eyes at her friend's dramatics. “Whatever. We're not having this argument now. I won't allow you to look a mess and be late to the ball, not this time. I heard there's a new eligible gentleman in the city. A Mr Son, of the Bingley Estate.”

“Oh, I see,” Bulma drawled knowingly. “Here I thought you were worried about me, but all this time you were worried about yourself.”

Chi Chi blushed. She grabbed Bulma's arm and tugged her along. “Shut it, Miss Briefs, you're not allowed to talk back to me when you look such a fright,” she snapped.

Bulma laughed. The mystery of the wall's readouts would have to wait, she supposed, for they paled in comparison to her friend's ire.

~xox~

The ball was a lavish, gorgeous affair, but then again, they always were. Beautiful. Opulent. Predictable… It's not that Bulma disliked them, after all, she did enjoy dressing up, being social, being at the center of attention. When she didn't look a complete mess she polished up quite nicely, thank you very much, and was one of the more eligible women on the small planet outpost. Not that marriage was something she was considering, but having handsome men fawn over her was flattering at the least, and with the right charming gentlemen, it could even be fun. But still, after a certain number of balls, with the same people, and the same dances, and the same recycled gossip and recycled attempts at flattery, Bulma was, maybe just a little, bored with the whole routine.

She needed to be stimulated. Excited. Challenged. It was what fascinated her about steam powered technology, and why she'd been drawn to it from a young age - that, and her father's own proclivity for it probably helped. It's also why she found the anomaly with the wall far more interesting than attending yet another ball, because at least the wall provided her with a challenge and a sense of achievement at the end. What did she have to gain from a ball? Certainly not landing a husband, according to Chi Chi.

Still, in the dead of the galaxy, on a planet with few resources, stuck in a city protected by a forcefield against the vacuum of space and enemies that dwelled on the outstretches of civilization, attending balls was one of the only respectable means of entertainment and passing the time. Bulma understood that. She didn't hold it against the population; people needed social stimulation after all, and if she felt any resentment, any hostility at feeling trapped, with her wings clipped and her heart aching to be set free to soar off and seek adventure in the world beyond the forcefield, she kept it to herself.

“Oh look, that's him!” Chi Chi announced in an excited whisper, clutching Bulma's arm and pointing at a young man with wild black hair and a sincere, almost goofy smile. He was tall and handsome and well-built, clearly a soldier in his military blues. “Goku Son,” Chi Chi reiterated, her eyes latched hungrily onto him, her fingers clawing at Bulma's arm.

Well, maybe balls weren't all bad. Sometimes a bit of eye candy was nice too, and this Goku certainly fit the bill. Still, with the way Chi Chi was eating him up, Bulma knew she'd never be forgiven for doing anything more than look. “Not bad, Chi Chi,” she complimented.

They watched as Goku moved through the ball room, introducing himself and making friendly small talk as he subtly made his way towards the buffet table. Sadly, his efforts were constantly cut short as attendees interrupted his attempts. Bulma smirked, noticing his struggle. She nudged her friend. “Chi Chi, if you fetch the young man some supper, I think he'd be forever in your debt.”

Chi Chi hesitated for only a second before she slipped off towards the buffet. Bulma stood back, watching as Chi Chi gathered a plate laden with food and approached Goku, deftly interjecting into his conversation with a self-important minister and handing Goku the plate. Goku's eyes widened, and he glanced back and forth between Chi Chi and the food. His face split into a giant grin and he accepted the plate enthusiastically, before taking Chi Chi's hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips didn't touch, but the gesture still brought a blush to Chi Chi's face. Bulma could tell it was love at first sight.

And she felt something twist in her gut.

Was that… jealousy?

Huh, that was unexpected.

Bulma watched the two talk and smile shyly at each other. Finally Chi Chi remembered her friend and invited Goku to meet her.

“Mr. Son, this is my dearest friend, Miss Bulma Briefs of the Bennet Estate,” Chi Chi introduced sweetly.

“Miss Briefs,” Goku greeted with a friendly smile.

“Mr. Son,” Bulma replied, noting that he didn't take her hand in greeting.

“Nice little planet you have here,” Goku said amiably. “Good food too. And please, no need for formalities, I'm terrible with them anyways,” he laughed openly.

“Well then, uh, Son, I've heard the Bingley estate has a lovely library on steam works and space travel, is that true?” Bulma inquired.

Goku laughed again, appearing sheepish. “Oh, yes, I think? I er, I'm not very good with books to be honest, I prefer training.”

Bulma could see that. The man was built, even amongst the standards of the military. “Well, how long will you be stationed with us?” Bulma asked.

“Ah, a while,” Goku replied with a careless shrug. “I was just telling your friend, Miss Ox, that the saibamen have been ramping up their attacks lately, spreading further out across the galaxy. We - oh! That reminds me. I should introduce you,” he said, and looked around, standing on his tiptoes and looking over people's heads, trying to spot someone. He was so endearingly energetic, and it made him appear quite young and honest. Yes, Bulma definitely liked him. Goku finally waved, beckoning for someone to approach.

Bulma looked over and saw an imposing figure push through the crowd towards them. The new man wasn't tall but still left an impression, his toned physique, scowling features, pointy hair and proud swagger all quite intimidating. He wore white military gloves and boots, dressed far more formally than Goku, and the blues he wore were decorated with a myriad of medals and stars, denoting him to be very highly skilled and important. Bulma was impressed, not just with his accolades, but the way he managed to fend off the social piranhas with one fierce, miserable scowl.

Goku smiled happily as his dour friend arrived. “Miss Ox, Miss Briefs, this is my esteemed friend, Vegeta of the Darcy Estate. He's-”

“Colonel Vegeta,” Vegeta interjected flatly, throwing Goku an irritated look.

“Right! Colonel Vegeta.”

“A pleasure,” Chi Chi greeted.

Vegeta gave the women a cursory glance. He looked at Chi Chi, then at Bulma. His eyes took in her disheveled appearance, and he frowned, his lip curling. He looked back at Goku. “Is that all, Kakarot?” he asked impatiently.

Goku winced at his friend's abruptness. He gave an awkward laugh. “Yes, I suppose…”

Vegeta walked off.

Bulma bristled, amazed at the man's rudeness.

“Sorry about him, he's… not good with people,” Goku apologized to the two women. “He's actually a really good person though.”

Bulma had her doubts, but she kept them to herself. “Did he call you Kakarot?” she asked.

Goku laughed, sounding embarrassed. “Yes, well. That was an old codename, but Vegeta insists on calling me that.”

The evening progressed pleasantly enough after that. When Goku had finished eating he invited Chi Chi to dance, and they did. They made the most disgustingly adorable couple. Goku wasn't especially good at dancing, but his infectious and good natured laugh more than made up for his missteps, and Chi Chi gently guided him as best she could.

Chi Chi was trying to teach him a new dance when Goku made another mistake and laughed, apologizing and rubbing the back of his hair.

“Tch.”

Bulma startled, hearing the noise from over her shoulder. She glanced to her left, seeing the dark, brooding figure of Vegeta just behind her, watching the couple dance, his arms folded and his face pulled into a scowl.

“Is… something wrong?” she dared to ask.

“He's such a clown,” Vegeta said, his eyes still on the dance. Bulma wasn't sure if he was replying to her, or just commenting to himself.

“At least he's attempting to enjoy himself,” she remarked, and still bristling at his rudeness from before, muttered, “Which is more than can be said of you.”

His eyes slid over to her, his scowl deepening. He gave her a quick once over. “And you,” he replied snidely. And not, she was loathe to admit, untruly. She was just as guilty as he was, standing on the sidelines, watching and doing nothing. Well, to hell with that.

Bulma turned and faced him full on. “Alright. Challenge met, sir. Care to dance?”

His lip curled in a sneer. “With you?”

“Yes, with me. Do you see anyone else asking?”

“Well, when you put it like that. No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm neither desperate nor flattered. It takes more than some backwater beauty to entice me. Like I'd stoop so low as to dance with the likes of you.”

Bulma felt her mouth drop open in outrage, her hands fisting. How dare he! Bulma's fingers clenched about her drink's stem and she moved to drop it over his head.

Only he was much faster. As she raised the drink his arm shot out, and she found herself suddenly shoved back against the wall, her wrist held painfully in his grip up above her head. He squeezed and she dropped the glass, where it shattered on the floor. People nearby turned to look. Bulma blushed in embarrassment, but if Vegeta was ashamed of the scene he caused, he didn't show it.

“You're hurting me,” Bulma grumbled, looking him defiantly in the eyes despite his rough treatment and rougher attitude.

He sneered at her. “What's it to me? A little force is necessary to put a disobedient brass mouse back in place,” he said, using the derogatory nickname for a low level engineer, the term evoking images of the little busy mice who scurried around the brass pipes, hence the name. Her eyes widened, surprised he'd even know the term, or be using it about her.

“What did you call me?” she whispered with barely suppressed rage.

He reached for her with his free hand. She flinched back and he smirked. He ran his thumb slowly along her neck, the fabric of his glove grazing her skin. Bulma's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering, suddenly beating wildly beneath her ribs. He dragged his thumb up, pressing along her pulse before lifting his hand between them, showing her the black grease smeared on his thumb that she hadn't cleaned off. “Don't try to deny it.” He looked up at the mechanical sight in her hair. “And I know that's no hair piece. What're you doing with a scouter? Did you steal that too, along with your way into this ball? I have to say, your planet must be pretty pathetic to allow a brass mouse into these events.”

Bulma was livid, offended on so many levels she didn't know where to begin. “FIRST of all,” she started, feeling an unholy rage well up inside of her. “If I were a brass mouse, I'd still be perfectly welcome here; everyone is equal, you overbearing SNOB,” she huffed, feeling her cheeks get hot along with her words. “SECOND of all, I'm far beyond the skills of any brass mouse you likely know. THIRD, this is my `scouter', and I didn't not steal it; how dare you accuse me without even knowing me. FOURTH, who the hell are you to come to my planet, to my ball-”

“Your ball?” he drawled, clearly amused at her tirade.

“YES MY BALL. Don't interrupt. Where was I?”

“Point number four,” he offered cordially, still smirking.

“Right! You're my guest but you insult me even as you're STILL so rudely holding my arm without my permission, and painfully too, might I-”

KA-BOOM!

A devastating, ear-shattering explosion rocked the building, the entire room shaking and bursting into debris. Bulma's scream was cut short, muffled against Vegeta's chest. He tucked her head against him, keeping her pressed tightly between himself and the wall, safe. She could hear people screaming and feel the heat of a fire starting to burn nearby. Terrified, totally forgetting that they'd been fighting just a second before, Bulma huddled against Vegeta, surprised at how sturdy and secure he made her feel.

She glanced up at him. He looked down at her. Their eyes met and held. His were dark, black as space and just as cold and unreadable.

“VEGETA!”

They both looked over to where Goku was running towards them, Chi Chi's hand in his.

Vegeta stepped back, letting Bulma go, his face taking on a serious, no nonsense look. He started peeling off his white gloves. “On it. Get everyone out,” he snapped at Goku.

“Right,” Goku replied.

“What's going on?” Bulma demanded, starting to recover from the shock.

“We're under attack, obviously. Follow Kakarot, he'll get everyone to safety,” Vegeta replied matter-of-factly.

“Under attack? What… who…? What about you?” Bulma spluttered, her mind reeling.

“I'll engage the enemy,” Vegeta replied. His gloves came off. Bulma's eyes widened, seeing the bronze and copper wires wrapped around his hand, fingers and wrist.

“Is that a ki guard?” she asked, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

He looked at her, his face disclosing his surprise. “How do you know-”

There was another explosion, this one further away, but the screams that filled the air proved it was no less devastating. They all teetered, barely retaining their balance as the ground shook from the aftershock.

Vegeta grimaced and glared at Goku. “Get out, now, I'll -” he touched his temple, reaching for something that wasn't there. His face twisted in frustration. “Fuck!” He looked at Goku. Goku winced and shook his head. Vegeta swore again. Then he paused, and looked at Bulma.

Bulma blinked in surprise. “What-”

He stepped forward, reaching for her. He snatched her scouter from her hair and placed it over his ear, snapping the piece over his eye. “Get them out,” he said to Goku, then he turned on his heels and left.

“Hey, wait!” Bulma called, but Goku suddenly ran off in the other direction, tugging Chi Chi behind him. Chi Chi reached out and grabbed her. “C'mon, Bulma!”

“Don't worry about Vegeta. He's the best at this. He never misses a target,” Goku assured as he pulled along.

“But he took my scouter!” Bulma protested.

“So what!?” Chi Chi cried out as they ran through the debris, catching up to the crowd of people making a panicked escape.

“It's my scouter!” Bulma insisted.

“Damnit, Bulma, this is no time to be possessive!” Chi Chi shouted at her shrilly, her eyes wide in fear.

“No, you don't understand! I modified it. He won't…” her voice trailed off. Chi Chi would never understand, and more than that, Chi Chi didn't need to. There was only one way to fix the matter. Bulma pulled her hand free of Chi Chi's grip and turned, running back the way Vegeta had left.

“BULMA! BULMA~!” she heard Chi Chi scream desperately for her, but she ignored her.

Bulma ran back through the ball room, holding her skirts up over her mouth and nose to block out the smoke that was rapidly filling the room. She made her way to the large hole in the wall and bravely jumped through, the cool air outside hitting her like a bucket of ice water.

Free from the smoke and able to suck in fresh air, Bulma looked around at the chaos outside. The neighborhood was ablaze, nearby buildings on fire and rubble in the streets. People were screaming and madly running off, trying to escape the center of the attack. And standing in the middle of it all, was Vegeta. He stood with his arm outstretched, looking up at the sky. Bulma looked up too and could see the glint of lights as several air ships came careening towards them. Saibamen, it had to be, those vicious little space pirates who had once preyed only on the small ships flying through space, but recently the pirates had organized and grown bold, attacking small outposts and even larger armadas. But the saibamen shouldn't have been able to breach the forcefield, not unless…

Bulma went cold. The strange readings from the city wall.

She had no time to dwell on the matter as she heard Vegeta swearing. His arm was still pointed to the sky. Energy crackled around his hand where the mechanical gauntlet glowed hotly, sparking and spitting. Suddenly a huge beam of light blasted into the air from it, attempting to shoot down one of the ships.

And missed.

Vegeta swore again. He fired shot after shot. Some of them connected. Just. Most of them did not. The saibamen returned fire, blowing up surrounding buildings and the square they stood in, sending Bulma to the ground, but Vegeta stood proud, unflinching, and continued to defend the city. His face was twisted in agitation, and Bulma could guess why. Her scouter, instead of helping him, was hindering his aim that Goku claimed never missed.

She staggered to her feet and ran over to him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET OUT OF HERE!” Vegeta yelled at her, not even glancing her way, the smell of ozone in the air as he fired another shot at the oncoming enemy.

Bulma set her chin stubbornly and yanked the scouter from his temple.

“What the fuck!” he snarled at her.

“It's been modified for extremely close range, you dunce! You're better off without it!”

He swore, a string of very colorful, nasty words, half of which were in a language she didn't even know but could gather the meaning of just from his tone. He squinted, aimed, and fired, and blew up the closest oncoming ship dead-on. Finally.

Bulma didn't have time to gloat because she was suddenly shoved aside, Vegeta pushing her away. “GO!”

“Don't tell me what to do. I can fix it!” she huffed, already looking at the scouter and making modifications to the sight.

“Get OUT of here, woman. You're distracting me!” he snapped, firing again, taking out another ship. “And as you can see, now that your little science project isn't screwing me over, I don't need your help.”

“My little science project wouldn't have screwed you over if you'd just asked before stealing my scouter!”

“Oh, forgive me. Next time I try to save your pathetic planet from under attack, I'll be sure to put in a formal written request for your scouter in triplicate!”

Bulma would love to have replied, but there was another explosion and she silently acknowledged that it wasn't the best time for them to be fighting. She pulled out a pin from her hair and used it make a few adjustments to the scouter as Vegeta continued attack up into the sky. He didn't have any trouble taking out the ships at close range, but a couple of the saibamen hung back, high above, barely visible to the human eye; in the dark, through the heat of the fires and smoke that filled the air, even Vegeta had trouble aiming at them accurately without the aid of a scouter. His brow was covered in sweat, and he was breathing hard. A glance told Bulma he was growing exhausted. She'd never seen anyone use a ki guard before and had only heard about them. The stories told of them taking a huge toll on the body, even leading to death if overused. Despite the total asshat this Vegeta was, he was still defending her city and Bulma didn't want him to die if it could be avoided.

Looking up, Bulma saw there was only one ship left, high above the city. Vegeta shot at it again and again but couldn't hit it. At this point he was having to support his right arm with his left, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. The ship fired at the ground and both Bulma and Vegeta staggered. Vegeta fell to his knees.

Bulma ran over to him. “We should go!”

“I have this under control!” he snapped at her, shoving her away irritably. “Get the hell out! Find Kakarot, tell him-”

The ship fired again, this time only feet away from where they stood. Bulma screamed as she was thrown, not by the blast, but by a hard shove sending her flying down across the pavement. She hit the ground hard, rolling, and when she finally came to a stop her entire body hurt. Her arms were scratched and bloodied, her dress torn. She looked over her shoulder, glaring at Vegeta who'd pushed her violently away. She was ready to yell at him, but then saw he hadn't moved, collapsed on his hands and knees, trembling, his back glistened darkly.

Bulma felt something drop in her stomach. She hurried painfully over to him and put her hand on his back. It came away wet and red with blood. His blood. Her eyes widened in horror. He'd taken the brunt of the blast. For her? His head hung low, his eyes scrunched closed in pain, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

A horrible, high pierced whistling sliced the air. Bulma looked up, seeing the last saibaman ship hurtling towards them. It came, rushing closer and closer, aiming to take them out while Vegeta was unable to return fire. “Vegeta,” she stammered, shaking him, trying to get his attention.

He grimaced and shoved at her weakly. “Blasted woman… Go…”

“Here,” she offered, and she slipped the scouter onto his face, over his eye. He glared at her, then looked up at the ship hurtling towards them. He staggered to his feet, barely able to stand, panting heavily. He raised his arm, and with a fierce, guttural scream, he fired a ki blast at the oncoming ship.

It blew up just above the city skyline like fireworks, raining burning debris upon them.

Vegeta fell to his knees again, shaking in exhaustion, gasping for air. Bulma squatted by his side, and gingerly reached out to touch his arm.

He swatted her away. “Are you insane?” he growled at her, his tone livid, even if he couldn't find the energy to shout at her.

“Excuse me?” she replied, holding her slapped hand.

“You could have been killed. You nearly got ME killed!”

“I beg your pardon,” Bulma replied with growing indignation. “I believe I helped save us.”

“YOU?!” He gave a wry, disbelieving laugh. “You're delusional.”

“And you're too proud to accept help. AND you're hurt.”

“I've had worse.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“I don't need to impress a brass mouse.”

“You are such an ass.”

“And you… are…” Vegeta's voice trailed off, and he swayed, starting to tip over.

Bulma caught him, barely. He was dense, heavier than he looked, and she struggled to keep him upright. “Whoa there.”

“Vegeta!” a male voice called out. Bulma looked over as Goku came running towards them, covered in soot and his clothing torn. He crouched down and put Vegeta's arm over his shoulder, helping the colonel to his feet. “What happened?”

“Fucking scouter,” Vegeta snapped, leaning heavily on Goku. “Couldn't hit the bastards. Then this one shows up and I had to babysit her because you couldn't do your goddamn job and get everyone out of the fucking way…”

Goku said nothing, taking the tongue lashing in stride, even as Bulma wanted to smack Vegeta. Goku glanced at her. “Hey, you should come with us,” he told her. “I'm sorry but your friend was hurt while we escaped. Nothing too serious but I took her back to my estate to be treated. I'd be happy to put you up so you can look after her.”

“Oh…of course…” Bulma said, at a loss for words, overwrought from everything that had transpired. They walked through the wreckage as first responders started to arrive to put out the fires and treat the injured. Goku helped Vegeta limp down the streets while Bulma trailed after them, her mind wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Chi Chi was hurt, the city was a mess, and Bulma couldn't decide what to think about Vegeta who acted so arrogantly, yet had saved their city. But above all those thoughts swirling foremost in her mind, Bulma kept worrying about the city's forcefields, and the strange reading she'd been puzzling out before the ball. Was there a connection? And if there was, the only way someone could have tampered with the system was from the inside…

Vegeta stumbled, staying upright only due to Goku's grip. Bulma picked up her pace and hurried to help support Vegeta on his other side.

“Hey, thanks,” Goku told her gratefully.

Vegeta grumbled something under his breath. Bulma thought she heard him mutter `brass mouse' but he was incoherent so she let it slide. Together the three of them walked to Goku's estate as the city around them struggled to recover from the unexpected attack.

~0x0x0~

AN: The first line (“It's a truth universally known…”) comes directly from the original text of Pride and Prejudice.

Beta-read in the 11th hour by my hero, Artephile aka Marcella-Duchamp, without whom this would be a far greater mess, and who helped and inspired me to come up with a far prettier name than the original working title. ^_^

Thanks also to stupidoomdoodles who suggested I keep the DBZ names.

Pride and Prejudice belongs to Jane Austen and… whoever owns those rights now. Nobody, huh? That probably explains Pride, Prejudice and Zombies, which actually inspired this idea in the first place, lol… DBZ belongs to Akira Toriyama.

Fanart: I've already received some amazing fanart for this story, from galacticpridefulprincevegeta (galaticshark17), Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp, and Rutbisbe. You should check 'em out!