Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Project: Vegeta ❯ The Physics of Kung Fu ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A/N: Lemon Warning! Nothing toooooo terribly explicit, but you have been warned.

Dislaimer: It ain’t mine. Bah Humbug.

Chapter 2:
The Physics of Kung Fu


The next day Bulma awoke slowly, one of those deliciously peaceful mornings when all was right and good. Snuggling closer into the solid, warm chest that cradled her body she inhaled the unmistakable smells of man and sex. Softly, she felt a strong hand brush the hair from her face, relishing the safeness and comfort that she felt in that one moment.
“Good morning, baby.” the whispered words brushed her skin, sending a tingle of pleasure towards her core. She smiled and let her eyes drift open.
“Good morning, Yamcha,” she said, feeling the moment slipping away with each passing second. She desperately wanted to stay in that moment, to hang on to it with all her might. She pressed her hand against her boyfriend’s wide chest and rose up on one elbow to help her lips reach his. Slowly she felt her need to hang on to that pleasant, safe feeling increase, and with it the intensity of her kiss.
It was only a matter of seconds before Yamcha pulled away. “Wow, babe, what’s gotten into you?” His breathless question was completely ignored as she pressed him back onto the bed and continued to ravage his mouth. She enjoyed the feeling of wet lips pressed together, of skin sliding along skin. Her hand worked itself into a slow pattern on his chest, caressing the area lateral to his nipple. Wanting something real and solid, she wished with all her might that Yamcha would put her arms around her and hold her. Just hold her and kiss her all morning...
“Oh, I get it...” Yamcha said, pushing her back slightly. “It’s more about what you want getting into you, right?” He pushed her gently onto her back and kissed his way down her neck to her breasts before taking her right nipple into his mouth.
And just like that the moment was over. Bulma sighed and laid her head back onto her pillow, closing her eyes. But not in pleasure. In frustration. Not that what Yamcha was doing didn’t feel good. It did. And it had felt good last night. And last week when he’d stayed the night. And the time before that... Always the same. After kissing for 30 seconds he’d move to her breasts. Sucking one and then the other. Sure enough his lips rose and moved to her other side.
And then, after doing that for a minute he’s put a condom on and go to town on her. Same as always, just like clockwork. Kissing and then breasts and then missionary position intercourse. Sure, sometimes he’d let her suck on his nipples. And he always loved it when she would go down on him but he’d never once returned the favor. And he always just blew her off when she’d suggest new positions. Even on her birthday when she’d wanted some girl on top action. She’d gotten to do that for about 10 seconds before he’s rolled her over and gone back to the usual.
Part of her loved Yamcha and he was good at what he did. It was just... not a lot. She wanted more of a variety, to try new things, but it was hard to bring it up and talk about it. When they’d first started dating, and she’d wanted to make love he’d been so self-conscious. It had taken her a long time to get him to do anything and now it seemed like he’d finally gained some confidence in bed. Only when she’d try to bring up trying anything different he’d always get this look on his face. Like he wasn’t good enough because she wanted something else. Which wasn’t the case, but... he just couldn’t see. Lately she’d just stopped trying.
Bulma told herself that things were fine. She would just enjoy what then did together and let it be, but somehow, she wasn’t sure if that would always be true. Even now, as he was reaching over to her bedside table to retrieve a condom she couldn’t help but just wish he’d get it over with so she could get up and shower. That thought made her feel incredibly guilty. After all, she’d started it, right?
“Ready?” Yamcha asked, having slid on the prophylactic into place he poised himself over her, spreading her legs.
Bulma forced a smile onto her face and nodded. She closed her eyes, trying to savor the feeling of his member sliding inside her. He was pretty big, almost 8 inches in length, and usually managed to get her off by that fact alone. Rub the right places enough and things were bound to happen. Like clockwork. Wrapping her arms around his neck she clung to him for dear life. Maybe if she tried harder, maybe if she could feel more for him, connect deeper to him then the sex wouldn’t be such a big deal. Her legs wrapped around him as she squeezed, pulling him as close as possible. As if, if she believed hard enough, a physical depth would translate into an emotional depth.
Pressing flesh to flesh she did her best, ridding the waves of his thrusts, trying to meld their bodies into one by sheer will. And yet... nothing.
Moaning loudly Yamcha arched his back, thrusting one last time as he came. The slickness of his sweating skin pulled him from her arms. She just couldn’t hang on. Having finished, he collapsed onto her, his weight pressing her into her mattress. Only instead of feeling closeness, she merely felt smothered. Inside some part of her was breaking.
Slowly, Yamcha rolled over, pulling away from her all at once and leaving her to feel cold and alone. “Wow, Bulma that was amazing! Kami! Didn’t you think that was good!?” he laughed as he laid next to her.
“Sure,” she said, her smile sad. She just couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. It would probably destroy him. “It was great.” she pulled the sheet up around her body and lay there, still and quiet.
After a moments contemplation, while Yamcha caught his breath, she wondered just how long she could pull off this ruse before it killed their relationship completely. She knew she wanted more, needed more. Sometimes she felt like she was drowning in a deep well of untapped passion. Maybe she had just read too many romance novels growing up, but she knew that things could be so much more then this in bed. She just knew there were a million possibilities and she wanted to try them all.
It would be one thing if every other aspect of their relationship was perfect, but Bulma knew she would just be lying to herself if she thought that was true. Obviously, they had trouble communicating and for the most part trust was merely touch and go. She just wasn’t sure that he was going to be the man to make her happy forever more. Somewhere along the line her relationship with him had become... convenient, and that was about it.
She loved Yamcha, but she wasn’t convinced she was in love with him. That being the case she was starting to think it might be better for both of them if they just went back to being friends. She wasn’t getting any younger, after all.
“Yamcha,” she said, turning on her side to face him. “I was just thinking....”
“Yeah?” he asked, grinning like an idiot and crossing his arms behind his head.
“Well, I...” She needed to say this just right. “Don’t you ever think that maybe...”
The sound of a small explosion sounded somewhere on the compound, followed by the rushing sound of someone powering up. Bulma and Yamcha both sat up, startled.
“Huh?” Yamcha stopped, focusing quickly. “That must be Vegeta. He must be doing some training this morning. Huh. That guy is unbelievable. Does he ever give it up?” He wondered aloud. Then, swiftly he flipped the covers back, climbed out of bed and began looking for his clothes. “I better go see what he’s up to? I don’t want to be outdone by that guy. If he’s gonna workout this early then I better get a crack on it, too.” As soon as he was dressed he leaned over and kissed the frowning Bulma.
“I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll do dinner.” And then he slipped from the room without waiting for a reply. Bulma suddenly found herself alone. She grunted quietly. Again with the communication issues...
“Well, I guess I better get up too. I don’t want those two getting at each other’s throats too early.” Standing and walking to her bathroom she tried to not feel abandoned. Boys would be boys, after all.


Somehow they survived the day without anyone breaking anyone else’s neck, although that might have been partly due to the fact that Vegeta took off as soon as he saw Yamcha approaching. It didn’t seem the Prince was a play-nice-with-others kind of guy. For dinner that evening Bulma had decided to invite Puar and Oolong over for barbeque. Until her issues were settled with Yamcha, she didn’t really want to spend too much time alone with him. She even managed to convince Vegeta to join them after he’d returned from where ever he’d been all day. Running the grill gave Bulma something to distract her and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. She had even managed to shake that feeling of melancholy that had started sinking in that morning. Things were going to be okay.
“Oh, man Bulma this is great! I’m pigging out here.” Oolong said, scarfing down a plate of barbeque.Without warning Vegeta was suddenly standing, his fist slamming harshly into the table and knocking over his drink. “So, he failed after all. Frieza’s still alive and he’s coming!” Everyone gasped, surprised by his words as well as startled by his outburst.
“Wait, how do you know? Maybe it could be somebody else. Come on!” Yamcha looked as though he knew what Vegeta was talking about.
“I know! I make it my business to know. Unlike you,” snarled Vegeta.
Not one to be talked down to, Yamcha shot out of his chair sending it toppling backwards. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bulma wondered if he even considered the fact that Vegeta could probably fry them all with just a nasty look. “Hey, Vegeta, would you like a little more barbeque sauce on your spare ribs?” It just wouldn’t do to let the two of them go at it. Especially if what Vegeta said was true. If Frieza was really on his way...
“Sure. Why not.” Vegeta said, settling down. Inside he was surprised that the woman could act so calmly, saying just the right thing to get him to chill. He might as well finish his dinner. They had a little time before Frieza arrived, and then they were probably all toast anyway.
“Well my money’s on you guys. We can leave if you wanna fight him here.” The pig said, still munching away.
Vegeta thought it was ridiculous how much these stupid earthlings didn’t understand about the real powers of the universe. From what he was sensing all ready Frieza would be even stronger then before. In which case it was going to take a miracle.



A miracle is what they got. In the form of the amazingly strong Super Saiyan from the future. The 17 year old boy quickly dispatched Frieza and his men, as well as Frieza’s father, King Cold. And he also passed on a warning about the future that could quite possible make the difference between life and death from all of them in the next 3 years. Especially Goku whose upcoming heart virus would be decidedly less fatal.
In the case of Vegeta, he could foresee only a minor detour from his original course. Vegeta had know he might need some extra training in order to increase his power level enough to surpass the infuriating 3rd class ape. Now that Kakarrot had return and the strange boy had delivered his warning, he would simply intensify his efforts 10 fold, using the time between now and the androids arrival to make himself unstoppable. Then, after he tested his strength out destroying the robotic tin cans, he would continue with the original plan and destroy Kakarrot as well. Some days his interminable genius surprised even himself.
To make the deal even sweeter he’d demanded that the good Dr. Briefs build him his own gravity simulator and had been obeyed with almost zero hesitation. Here at the Capsule Corps compound he had unlimited resources. With the threat of the androids motivating them all to assist him completely he need only continue using that to his advantage and he could not fail. In a measly three years time he would ascend to the very top ranks of the universe and nothing would stop him.
There was only one slight catch. He must figure out how to ascend and become an all powerful Super Saiyan. Without doing so he would never be able to surpass Kakarrot. As if his frustration in this matter weren’t already maxed, he now had the boy from the future taunting him as well. His rage swelled with the thought. It had to be some kind of trick. There was no way that boy could be a Super Saiyan. It was impossible. It seemed the universe was laughing at him.
“Initiating Gravity simulation. 300 times Planet’s normal Gravity. Initiating Defense Program. Level 5. Assuming Defense Formation.” The computer announced, the training bots shifting above him, preparing for his attack.
Vegeta raised his ki, feeling the increasing gravity and making it nearly impossible for him to even remain on his feet. It was all he could do to keep standing, but that wasn’t good enough. Reaching deep within himself he pushed harder. His rage and his determination driving him forward, despite the impossible seeming odds. With everything he possessed he launched an attack. Calculating the angles and possibilities he prepared to dodge the bots counterattack. He barely managing to get out of the way in time and then he turned, readying his next move.
“Assuming Defense Formation Level Maximum.”
The bots seemed to circle him menacingly now. The weight of the gravity was bearing down on him, making him feel as though his body was going to give out at any second. He was outraged by his own weakness as he struggled to keep his feet. Vegeta reached even deeper. With a harrowing scream he gave it everything he had, unleashing his energy on the defense ready bots. It proved too much for the mechanical spheres and soon they buckled under the intensity of it all.
Outside Yamcha and Puar watched in amazement through on of the small circular windows. “Talk about your radical training programs,” Yamcha said, stepping away from the shuddering sphere. Vegeta’s intensity amazed him, but surely it couldn’t be that difficult. Shrugging his shoulders and stalking off, Yamcha’s mind turned, a plan sprouting.

Later that evening, after all the lights had gone out around the compound, a shadowy figure crept quietly from hiding place to hiding place, making its way towards the now empty Gravity Simulator. Once inside, Yamcha approached the control console cautiously. ‘Whatever Vegeta can take. I can take, too. 300 times gravity shouldn’t be that tough. I’m sure I can take it.’ He thought, though his fingers hesitated above the main panel. Seconds later he steeled his resolve and pressed the on switch.
“Initiating Gravity simulation. 300 times gravity.” And suddenly Yamcha felt as though his head weighed about as much as a bus. His insides suddenly felt a pressing need to meet his toes, and even his sudden panic seemed to weigh down on him, pulling him to his knees.
‘Oh NO! What have I done? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.’ He raised his energy trying to create a protective barrier against the invisible downward force. A cry of pain ripped from his throat as he realized the futility. ‘I’ll be turned into a pancake if I don’t turn this thing off.’ His survival instinct kicked in and he pushed with everything he had, his hand slowly moving up the side of the console towards the off button. His arm felt like a house, his vision was starting to go black and the air felt like it was all being forced from his lungs. ‘Come on... just a little farther.’ The last few centimeters were the hardest, but after an eternity of struggle his finger tips touched it and... depressed it.
“Simulation terminated. Normal Gravity restored.” His body gave out the second the force lifted. Exhaustion overtook him complexly and he lay motionless, collapsed against the cool metal floor. His last thought before he passed out was of gratitude to King Kai and the training he’d received there. Without it he’d have been mashed Yamcha for sure.

Yamcha managed to regain consciousness and drag himself wearily from the Simulator before anyone woke. His entire body felt bruised and strained. He managed to find one of the guest rooms and laid down before falling into a deep and healing sleep just as everyone else was rising from their beds to begin their day.
As was becoming routine, Bulma’s mother started her morning by fixing a sizable breakfast for the household, 90 percent of which would be consumed by one metabolically enhanced alien guest. Vegeta would finish quickly and then retire to the Simulator for the bulk of the day. Dr. Briefs would go to his lab to work on any repairs that Vegeta required of him and then, if there was any time left in the day, he would tinker with one project or another that he had lying around. Mrs. Briefs would see to the cooking and the household upkeep, including all of the shopping and gardening. And Bulma, well, she was at a loss. She usually spent a good portion of her day with Yamcha, although lately, that was less and less true. She helped her father in the lab, occasionally, and her mother with the house stuff, but she found herself feeling less and less useful.
Yamcha spent a couple of days recuperating from his fight with 300 G’s and then returned to trying to train around the house. Bulma hadn’t seen a lot of him over the last few days, and found there was a small relief in that, even through the loneliness.
“Everyone else is working so hard to get ready for those androids while I’m sitting around the house doing nothing. I wish there was something I could do,” she muttered one morning as she sat flipping through some mind numbing magazine. Upon realization that she had no idea what had been on the last 20 pages or so she closed it and set it on the coffee table.
Her mother walked in, just then, a tray in her arms. “Bulma, I stopped by the bakery and guess what I got for us. Nice, huh? Don’t these just look scrumptious?” she exclaimed, setting the train on the coffee table, next to Bulma’s discarded magazine.
Bulma muttered an agreement and stared absently towards the windows.
“Now, which one do you want?” Her mother asked, cheerily.
“They’re all yours mom, I”m not very hungry.” Bulma’s problem was more pressing then her appetite. There had to be something she could do to help, and until she figured out what that would be, every other thing seemed less important.
“What? But Bulma what’s wrong with you? Are you feeling lonely because all the boys are spending all their time training and not spending time with you? That’s it, isn’t it dear?” For years Bulma had been aware of her mother’s supernatural talent to make every problem about men, or her lack thereof. The really irritating part was that this time she was hitting a little too close to home.
“Oh, puh-leez! I’m just not very hungry!” Defensive, Bulma considered the possibility that maybe she did depend of her friends for entertainment. Or at least purpose in life. For the last couple years her life had revolved around solving problems related to either hostile invasions or trips to distant planets. It was frustrating now that she was reduced to being an alien’s concierge. And speaking of their interplanetary guest...
“I’m starting to think Vegeta is a few cards short of a full deck. It wasn’t enough to have to simulation create 300 times gravity him but now he’s demanding that I make some more equipment for him to train with, and all he’s going to do is break it.” Her father said, entering with a yawn. Bulma knew her father had already been devoting some late nights and early mornings to helping Vegeta maximize his training.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all,” she sighed, thinking maybe she should just help her father out some more in the lab. That thought was somewhat irritating.
“I think it’s great he works so hard.” Bunni seemed to have stars in her eyes where Saiyan men in general were concerned.
“Oh sure he’s training hard, but don’t you think he’s over doing it a bit?” Dr. Briefs, never one for much physical type activity, countered.
“Oh no, I think it’s very admirable. In my day a man who showed that much dedication to anything was definitely husband material. A girl would have to be crazy to let him get away, I tell you.” Bulma wondered if that last part was directed at her. “Oh, my what am I saying, I’m a married woman!” Bunni blushed.
Bulma couldn’t believe her mother was seriously thinking about Vegeta in such a... casual way. Then again this was her mother. Her thoughts turning to the grumpy Prince, she suddenly realized she’s forgotten all about her plan to help him chill out and get the most out of life. With everything that had happened with Frieza, and then the threat from the future she’d sort of forgotten...
With Vegeta more dedicated to his training then ever Bulma had hardly even seen him over the last few weeks. Usually, he only showed his face when he was stuffing it with food, or when he was demanding repairs or upgrades. ‘Selfish jerk,’ she thought sourly. She’d know it wouldn’t be easy to get the Prince of all Ass holes to relax and lighten up. But now... it might be impossible. She felt a sudden excitement, one that had been missing lately. It would certainly be a challenge. It was definitely something to think about, anyway.
“Hey, dad, after lunch I’ll help you with that equipment.” She felt better already.

For the next few days Bulma and her dad unleashed a creative frenzy coming up with all kinds of cool things to help Vegeta train harder. Designing new materials to withstand a higher intensity ki attack, faster, more organized training formations for the bots. They spent almost 3 days going over martial arts theory and mathematics, analyzing the physics of fighting and watching lots and lots of Kung Fu and Bruce Lee movies. Their research even required them to study Vegeta himself.
It took some convincing, but they finally got him to step down into the lab for some tests. They’d had to promise that they’re purpose was to help him increase his Gravity Simulation training efficiency by at least 42 percent. Even then he’d bitched at them the entire time.
“Just hold still, Vegeta. You keep moving and the electron energy scanner is going to take forever.” Bulma scolded, watching as Vegeta scowled and re-crossed his arms for the umpteenth time.
“If you ask me, I’d say it has already taken up way too much of my time. I can’t afford to waste any of my valuable time posing for your stupid machines.”
“You can’t afford not to,” Bulma reminded him, yet again. “Or do you want to continue seeing only a small fraction of the results that you could be getting if you’d just hold still!” Her irritation was partly genuine, partly because she was starting to understand that in order to communicate with Vegeta effectively you couldn’t put up with any of his crap. He seemed only to respond to strength and reasoning. And it was just his disagreeable nature that made it impossible for him to let this go smoothly.
“My training techniques are perfectly fine! They have been perfected and handed down by generation after generation of the most powerful Saiyan warriors.”
“Just how many of those Saiyan warriors used advanced gravity simulation technology to enhance themselves?” she asked. Reigning in her attitude a smidgen, she gave him a somewhat softer expression. “Look, Vegeta, we’re not trying to insult your heritage or anything. It’s just that you’re on a different playing field now and the rules have changed. Now hold still and let us help you.”
Vegeta scowled still and uncrossed his arms. “I’ve agreed to allow you to do your tests, but don’t think for a second, Woman, that I need your help.”
Coming to that uncomfortable agreement, he finally remained still long enough for the scan to finish. “Okay, now, great.” Bulma smiled coming around from behind the machines control panel. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Her grin widened when Vegeta’s scowl deepened and he muttered something she was sure was uncomplimentary under his breath.
Turning towards the door, Vegeta made as if to leave, but Bulma stepped in front of him and put and hand up to stop him. “Now hold on, Vegeta. That’s just the first part of the tests. Next we’re going to have to measure your muscular mass index.” She held up her mass indexing calipers and gave him a sugar sweet smile.
“And just how much long is that going to take?” Vegeta’s mood seemed to darken even more. Just when you didn’t think the Saiyan Prince could get any more surly...
“Not long.” She said with an patronizing sigh. “Now, just hold out your arms.”
Obeying reluctantly, Vegeta decided just how long he was going to let himself be submitted to this prodding female and her “tests”. She had two more minutes.
Using her strange device the blue-haired-pain-in-his-ass groped and felt his upper arms and shoulders, followed by his forearms. Pinching his muscles between two metallic pincers he tried not to flinch when she moved to his chest, eyeing it suspiciously.
“This might be easier if you removed your armor for a minute.” She tried to phase her request as politely as possible, knowing that anything he interpreted as an order would be turned down just spite her.
“Fine,” he grumbled, removing his chest plate. “Just hurry up...” he growled threateningly. One minute twenty seconds and counting...
Bulma nodded absently as she set to work measuring his pectorals and abs. It was lucky that he was wearing his skin tight uniform today. Leaving that on kept her from having to deal with the prince’s naked chest. Not that she minded the skin it just... It was Vegeta. The thought of him baring all was just... disconcerting. She didn’t stop to analyze why.
Next came his hip and thigh muscles. She almost couldn’t get the prongs around his quads. ‘Wow,’ she thought, ‘What strong thighs, you have, Vegeta.’ She shook her head and focused on moving down to his calves. ‘The better to stomp me flat with,’ she thought grimly.
Vegeta was busy focusing on the clock on the far wall. He ignored the woman’s prodding and counted down the seconds, willing himself to not notice her close proximity. Fourty-two seconds...
“Okay Vegeta, we’re finished,” Bulma stood and reached for a clip board to jot down her findings.
“It’s about time,” he grumbled, putting his armor back on. Then, without so much as a thank you, he took his leave. Just outside the door he passed the scarred Earthling standing in the hallway. Pointedly ignoring him, he headed back outside to continue his work.
Yamcha watched the Prince strut by, nose in the air and then stepped into the lab. Bulma looked up from her work and gave him a smile. “Hey, Yamcha. Long time no see. What’s up?”
Yamcha walked over. “Hey, Bulma, are you sure it’s such a good idea to be helping Vegeta so much? I mean, he is still a cold-blooded killer and all. And he certainly doesn’t need any help getting stronger. He’s already too dangerous for my liking.”
Bulma laughed as she started imputing her data into the computer. “Oh, Yamcha. You worry too much. It’s just Vegeta, after all. Goku could still take him out in a heart-beat if he needed to. Besides, now that Vegeta isn’t working for Frieza anymore, maybe he’ll chill out a little. He can’t be all that evil, right? I mean... even Goku said that Vegeta has to have some good in his heart. I think he just needs a chance. You should try being nicer to him.”
“Nicer? To Vegeta?” Yamcha couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yeah right, that’ll be the day.”
“Oh, come on. If I recall correctly, you were once a dreaded outlaw bandit yourself. You of all people should be slower to judge someone by their past.”
Yamcha stammered at that point, unable to respond. She was actually comparing his past to that murdering bastard! There was no way he even came close to being that evil. Even at his worst he’d never been a murder. Hell, Vegeta had even been behind his very own death. How could she forget that so easily?
“Look, I’m really busy here. I need to get this in the database and start running some comparisons and projections and stuff. Maybe we could talk later or whatever?” Bulma said, pushing past him and walking to another computer to continue her work. She barely even seemed to acknowledge him at all, she was so absorbed with helping Vegeta.
“Sure, right,” Yamcha said, making every effort to hide his hurt feelings. “I guess I better get back to training anyway.” He turned and left, feeling her rejection in every cell of his body. It seemed to him like helping Vegeta was suddenly so much more important then him.
On the other hand, Bulma usually had a way of tuning out everything else when she was working on some sort of invention or research project. That’s probably all this was, he told himself. Just Bulma being Bulma. Sure, that was all this was. He was positive.


After a few days of running their colleted data through a serious of information matrixes Bulma and her dad had come up with several improvements for the Gravity Simulator. Production began immediately. 35 Million zeni and 4 days later they presented Vegeta with the new and improved GS 2.0.
“So, Vegeta, what do you think?” Bulma asked. She’d just finished showing him the basic controls and going over some of the new modifications.
“I hope, for your sake, that these so-called “improvements” are worth the time you wasted with all your tests.” The cold-ness in his tone belied the internal excitement he felt. It was always a thrill to recognize the possibility of newer, better heights in training, but there was no way he was going to give this human something to hold over his head later.
“I suppose it would be too much to ask for a Thank You,” Bulma said, her voice had a distinctly irritated flavor. “Well, you better be more careful with this stuff. It wasn’t easy or cheap and if you think that you’re going to continue to use my father as your own personal handy man, you can just forget it. Cause I’m telling you right now, that stops now.”
Vegeta smirked. “Well, if this is all as good as you say then you won’t have to worry, will you. But don’t think for a second I’m going to hold back. You will continue to be available to fix and create what ever I tell you to just because I say you will.” Crossing his arms, his arms seemed to be daring Bulma to disagree.
“You think you’re so high and mighty, but really, you’re just a spoiled brat!” She was really losing her temper now. Her father had done nothing but give and serve His Royal Highness since they’d found out about the androids and he couldn’t even give them an appreciative nod. “I don’t care if you were raised with people whipping your ass with golden sheets of toilet paper, you just can’t treat people this way. After everything my family has done for you, I’d think that you could at least try not being such a royal bastard about everything!” She finished with a stomp of her foot.
Vegeta laughed cruelly. “I think you’re forgetting a couple of key points, Woman. First of all, you and your family offered me their hospitality on this pathetic little ball of space waste. Secondly, you aren’t of much use if you aren’t making sure I have food to eat and machines to help me train. There isn’t any other reason for your existence. Thirdly, you need me to train so I can fight those androids for you, seeing as how you’re too weak to take care of them yourself. And finally, and this is the most important thing you seem to keep forgetting, I am Vegeta. The Prince of all Saiyans. The Legendary Warrior of the greatest warrior race that ever lived. You should be honored by the very fact that I continually spare your life, in spite of your never ending screeching and hassling of my Royal personage.” Vegeta had progressively moved closer, looking down his nose at her, though he was relatively her same height. “I think it is you who should be thanking me for letting you live, as well as taking on these androids on behalf of your pathetic simpering planet of weaklings.”
“We don’t need you,” Bulma said, really steamed off now. “We have Goku. And he’s a Super Saiyan whose way stronger then you any day. You’re just the backup.” The second the words left her lips she knew she’d gone too far. Her anger evaporated in a wash of fear.
“Well, if that’s how you really feel, maybe I should just leave, and you can go ahead and take your chances?” Vegeta clenched his fist, exerting all of his will to keep from blasting her away right here and now.
Bulma mentally kicked herself for letting him get to her like that. It was just Vegeta’s way to have to egg people on, always getting the last word. Taking a deep breath she forced most of the tension from her body she shook her head. “No, Vegeta, you’re right. We do need you. We’re going to need everything we’ve got.” She locked eyes with him, his gaze staring her down. She withstood it, trying to tell him that she wanted peace between them with her own look.
“Very well then,” he said, his voice filled with steal. “You may leave now.”
“Why the nerve!” Bulma exclaimed, her eyes smoldering as she turned on her heel and left. Her heart just wasn’t in it, though. She wondered exactly how close she had come death just moments before. The fact that she was still alive was actually a testament to the fact that Vegeta had changed at least a little. From what she’d seen from the Prince didn’t take lightly to being insulted right to his face. Taking a deep breath she walked back inside, hoping with all she had that this really was a good sign.

Inside GS 2.0 Vegeta was trying for coldly indifferent, but was coming up short with intermittent, emotional numbness. He didn’t care what that woman said, he didn’t. She was just a know-nothing idiot with too high an opinion of herself. She didn’t matter, what she thought didn’t matter.
But the very idea that he should play backup to Kakarrot was.... infuriating!
He tried again to calm his emotions, reminding himself that his stay here would be relatively short. He would take what he needed from these people and then blast them all into oblivion. He powered up the simulation to 300 g's and then, feeling his rage seeping back in, kicked it up to 350. The added weight forced him to concentrate on not getting squashed. He cleared his mind and began his usual routine.
Push-ups. One-handed push-ups. Hand stands, one-finger hand stand lifts... The additional weight making even the most rudimentary tasks almost too much. After a while he noticed a new phenomenon. A tingling in his muscles that started in his arms and then legs and then moved to his chest and back. Puzzled momentarily, he thought back to what that idiot woman had been saying. Apparently in addition to some of the other modifications, they’d added some kind of sub-frequency bio-magnetic emitter that was supposed to stimulate his muscle growth. Impressive, though hardly worth all the fuss. After all, anyone who knew anything about fighting knew it wasn’t the size of the muscle that mattered, but how you used it. Also, when it came to being truly powerful it had nothing to do with size, but with energy levels. Ki was what really mattered. Leave it to that vulgar, shallow woman to focus on muscle mass. He shook his head again, clearing her from his thoughts forcefully.
The only real goal here was to increase his ki level to the point that he could break the barrier and become a super saiyan. That was all that mattered. For the millionth time, images of Kakarrot filled his head. Kakarrot and that young purple-haired brat. What did they know that he didn’t? Why couldn’t he reach it?
Well, he wasn’t about to go asking that defective half-wit for pointers. He could figure it out on his own, and he would. He would play back up to no one! Using his rage to fuel his attack he started after an invisible opponent. Punch, kick, throw. Head butt, punch, punch. Knee to the gut, he imagined his enemy buckling before him. Tossing them away he powered up readying for a finishing blast. The tingling in his arms increased as he channeled his ki into his open waiting fist, damn near distracting him. With a scream of rage he unleashed it, feeling the backwash of his power flood over him, the air seeming to vibrate, shaking the entire structure and him in it. And then, in a flash of bright light, everything went dark.