Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Saiyan Games ❯ Chapter 1

Ok this is the disclaimer. I don't own the rights to DBZ that's the privilege of Akira Toryiama I am not profiting by writing this story, I'm just a huge fan with far too much time on her hands *^_^* please don't sue!

Saiyan Games

Part one

Vegeta stood on top of the battlements silhouetted against the red light that shone down and refracted off the harsh stone under his feet. A gust of surreal air swept across the expanse blowing his hair slightly to one side. The large purple warrior in front of him struggled to his feet, his left eye twitched and blood poured down his face from a cut in the crease of the lines of his forehead.

Vegeta felt his left arm. It had been struck by the creature's energy blast. The skin was blackened and burnt. The electric force had made it numb and it hung loosely at his side. With his other arm he cradled his bruised ribs. His supporting leg tried to give way, but he managed to stagger and catch it just before he fell. "No! This can't be!" he shouted out into the expanse of sky, "Not again! What is it going to take?"

His breathing was heavy and a drop of sweat curled around his temples. It slid down the angular features of his face and fell to the ground. He spat out a mouthful of blood and tried to get down into a defensive stance.

The alien grinned evilly from across the rooftop. Without warning he ran at the Saiyan and shifted in and out of focus, moving from side to side, laughing all the while.

The outcome of this attack was so glaringly obvious to Vegeta, but there was nothing he could do to avoid it. The calculations involved were far too complex to be done in time. He screamed out in sheer frustration as the alien reappeared in front of him and delivered a punishing but simple uppercut under his chin. A beam of white concentrated energy followed him into the air. It burnt at his chest, sending him flying over the battlements and out of the fighting area.

Large letters appeared in front of the stricken Saiyan as he fell towards the courtyard below. Darkness streamed in, starting from the very corners of his vision, and shifting across to block out the entire vista of the palace he had been fighting on top of only moments ago.

He jumped and grasped at the small machine attached to his ear as reality kicked in. He flung the devise across the tiles of the gravity room in utter disbelief.

Distractedly he looked behind from his position on the floor to see the still smouldering remains of the deflection machines. A subtle smirk crossed his features as he remembered his early morning training session. It wasn't going to be long now. He was convinced that when he had powered up the last time that he could see his normally blue ki change to a golden color. If only he could have sustained the power for longer, but it was only a suggestion of what could be and not any permanent change. He got up from the floor and looked out of the window slightly less happy than when he had started the link. He had hoped that his increase in power would have helped him, but the outcome was still the same.

The sharp pain that he was expecting crept into existence forcing him down to one knee. It swelled around his mind and made him feel as though he was loosing all coherent thought. His eyes burned and he couldn't focus properly on anything in the room. With his teeth tightly gritted together, he looked up at the ceiling. The more and more he trained the less and less painful it got, but still it managed to stop him in his tracks. He felt as weak as a human when it happened and even more so when he lost.

************************************************

Bulma stood in the middle of a large meadow. Buttercups and daisies poked their petals out of the grass as the sun beat down. She felt comfortable. She had been there before. "Yamcha!" she called out. "Yamcha! Where are you?"

Large oaks circled the field and bracken grew beneath. Behind the trees was darkness. Shapes moved in the shadows and gave a feeling of dread to the otherwise peaceful scene. Bulma was confused. She had been there many times when her and Yamcha had first met, but this time it was different. "Yamcha?" she called out again, but not so confidently.

A flock of birds raced out from the darkness of the wood and she felt the breeze their wings created, flutter across her bare arms. This place had always been a safe haven for her. She had never felt threatened there, but this time it had altered. Fear was the predominant feeling now. She knew she had to get away. The sense of danger lurking filled her being completely.

A gust of wind swept across the enclosure blowing her hair over her face and making her shiver. She had the strangest feeling that she was being watched and spun around to see who was there. She peered across the expanse and tried to block out the glaring light with her hand, but couldn't see anything other than a small family of squirrels that played undisturbed in the long grass.

She relaxed at the sight of them and let out a huge sigh. "I'm way too tense!" she thought. Her attention turned to the squirrels and she sat down on the grass watching their recreation.

The unnatural feeling returned and this time it was mirrored in the behaviour of her feral friends. The largest of the group twitched its nose suspiciously and went up onto its hind legs, staring out into the depths of the surrounding forest. Others of the group quickly copied its posture, before scurrying away in the opposite direction.

The sound of a branch snapping in the direction the squirrels had fled from made Bulma get to her feet and try to find a path out. Every time she got close to an opening the trees seemed to cluster even closer together and her route was blocked. Trying fruitlessly to push her way through the dense bracken she looked up only to see a figure advancing towards her. He was coming out of the deepest recesses of the forest and was gaining on her rapidly.

Instinctively Bulma was backing away from the vision, but as she stepped back the trees seemed to move with her. The meadow literally shrank as she moved. Every pace back confined her a little more, until eventually there was nothing but the smallest of clearings left. One beam of light shone through the dense canopy leaving a golden aura around her beautifully petite body.

Instead of blocking his way, the tree's seemed to be aiding the hunter's approach. He was actually striding through the foliage that Bulma had been struggling against and using all her strength to try and push through. The man was almost within reach of her now and she took another step back. Her legs pressed up against the bark of a large tree behind as the Saiyan walked into the clearing, "Vegeta?" she gasped.

The dazzling sunshine vanished in an instant and thick black rain clouds gathered overhead. Bulma turned and tried to run but there was nowhere to go. His strong arms reached out and grabbed her around the waist. She struggled but his grip was far too tight making escape impossible. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" she screamed.

He pulled her even closer and didn't reply.

Bulma looked up at the sky for what she thought was going to be the last time. She could feel the heat he created as he powered up and bracing herself she prepared for the worst. It didn't happen, and his breathing got heavier. She could feel it tickling on the back of her neck as he leant in replacing the sensation with his lips. It felt surprisingly good as he continued the attention and covered every inch of her neck with kisses. Her knees felt weak. She dropped to the floor and rolled onto her back. He knelt over her not saying a word and looking at her in a way she found hard to resist. Without thinking about what she was doing her hand reached up and curled around the nape of his neck pulling him towards her expectant lips. The feeling of danger had passed. Yamcha was forgotten. Vegeta was the only person she needed now.

The only person...

The only person...

Her head started to spin. The colors of the forest changed. It almost looked as if she were in a painting. The colors spun with the movement of her head, merging and becoming confused in each other. The dizzying images began to speed up and made her feel sick. Just as she began to feel that she couldn't take anymore the chaotic visions vanished, and a black shroud enveloped her.

Sounds arrested her expectant senses. The tones were familiar and comforting as she tried to concentrate on their origin. Someone was talking. Someone was calling her name!

"Bulma." Soothed the gentle voice. "Bulma wake up. Yamcha's here."

She sat bolt upright as reality kicked in.

"Were you having a bad dream dear?" coaxed her mother.

Bulma could only find the energy to nod her confirmation. Mrs Brief didn't say another word. She sat on the bed next to her daughter and simply put an arm around her shoulders.

For a good ten minutes they sat in mutual silence and Mrs Brief was the first to rouse her self. "Oh my!" she exclaimed, getting up and rushing towards the door. "I forgot all about Yamcha!"

Without another word she had left the room in search of their guest and Bulma was left to her own reflections. She could have cursed herself for being so silly. She couldn't believe that she had managed to get upset about a dream. Hurriedly she wiped away the tears that hovered in her eyes, and tried to compose the emotions it had created.

Pushing herself off the end of the bed she walked over to her dressing table and looked in the mirror. Her pale reflection gazed back. Her eyes were red from the tears and her hair was dishevelled, clinging to her face. Absent-mindedly she reached for her hairbrush and started untangling the aquamarine locks. The images of her dream still hung in her mind. The darkness of it didn't upset her that much, but the fact that she had enjoyed him touching her did. Why couldn't she get that darn Saiyan out of her thoughts? That was the third night in a row! Something was definitely amiss. Could it mean that...? No she pushed the thought out of her mind. Fresh air was probably the best course of action and she grabbed her dressing gown to walk out onto the balcony.

To her surprise it was much later in the morning than she had thought it would be. The sun was high in the sky and the early morning dew had evaporated due to the intensity of its rays. Resting her arms on the edge of the balcony she leaned over to look at the gravel drive below. Yamcha's brand new sky car sat neatly by the front of the house. She watched distractedly, as her mother opened the front door and pirouetted across the lawn.

Letting her eyes follow and anticipate her mother's direction, she made out a solitary figure moving through a set of complex forms next to the patio. As she gazed in wonder at Yamcha's progress he looked up and smiled at her. A few months ago her heart would have skipped a beat. She loved it when he looked at her in that way, but just recently she felt herself changing. The youthful infatuation that she had cherished from an early age was all but gone. It almost felt as though she was staying with him because of what had been rather than because she felt anything meaningful now.

She hadn't seen him for days, and knew all to well what he was like when left on his own for too long. Images of him with his arm draped across that woman's shoulder flittered through her mind, and made her vision blurry, as the pain its remembrance gave, spawned tears in the corners of her beautiful blue eyes.

Why had she forgiven him? Why had she agreed to go out with him that evening, and why more especially did the thought of marriage suddenly rush around her head when he mentioned something about a surprise?

Half-heartedly she smiled back and had the gratification of distracting him just enough to make him forget his place. Seeing him trying to shake the feeling off and continue with his training cheered her a little. Even more so, when after about five minutes of dedicated shadow fighting, she noticed he was looking at her again. A slight breeze caught the edge of her dressing gown separating the fabric enough to allow him a good glimpse of her legs. This time she couldn't help herself and laughed at the happy coincidence as she saw his eyes almost pop out of his head.

As she turned her body coyly to avoid letting him see her smile, Vegeta's training room caught her eye. The door was open and he was sat outside on the steps. Thoughts of her dream couldn't help but re-emerged and her attention was fixed. Whether he had been watching her or not she couldn't tell. His reflexes were so quick that even if he had been looking at her, she would never have been able to catch him off guard. He sat there with his eyes closed glorying in the midday sun in just his spandex shorts and training shoes. The light seemed to accentuate every well-toned muscle and sharpen every angle of his beautifully chiselled features. There was no denying how good he looked at that minute with the sunlight poured over him, highlighting the small beads of sweat that clung to his muscular body.

She froze mid gaze as he lazily opened one eye and shot a glance in her direction. He obviously hadn't been expecting her to be watching him. His other eye opened wide to join its partner and an air of confusion swept over his countenance. To her astonishment though he didn't look away, and their eyes met.

The connection didn't last long. Bulma was quickly brought back to her senses when she heard Yamcha call her name. He had abandoned his training and flown up to the balcony to meet her. His strong arms circled her waist and his head rested on her shoulder. She turned and kissed him on the cheek and nestled into his chest.

"What were you looking at Bulma?" he asked.

"Oh nothing." She exclaimed a little ashamed of her own thoughts.

"Looking forward to tonight?"

She nodded and turned to face him. "So am I allowed to know where we're going yet?"

"I already told you, it's a surprise." He grinned.

Putting her arms round his neck she kissed him teasingly on the lips. "Come on Yamcha, don't I get just a little clue?"

"No." He replied, pulling her even closer.

Bulma pouted, but was willing to wait. Yamcha grudgingly let his arms loosen and announced that he really had to get back to his training. She let him go, but not before kissing him again to make sure that she really felt the way she should. As he jumped over the edge of the balcony and gently floated to the ground she gazed back in the direction of the Saiyans training capsule. The door remained open, but Vegeta was nowhere to be seen.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident, Bulma had got dressed and diligently made her way to her lab to try and catch up on the work that seemed to pile up from nowhere just recently. At five o'clock she happily put down her latest gadget and went to her room to get changed. Yamcha had told her not to worry about getting dressed up, so she wore a pair of black stretch jeans with silver embroidery around the bottom with a simple white top. It had spaghetti straps that crossed at the back and a strip of lace that ran across the front to accentuate the cleavage. She pulled her hair up high as she had done when she was a teenager and walked out into the hall still tying the hair-band tightly around it.

She hadn't advanced many steps into the breakfast room when her mother called out to her. "Is that you Bulma?" she asked.

"Yep sure is mom!"

"Oh good! Yamcha's gone home to get changed and he told me to tell you that he'll be back at six to have dinner here before you go out."

"Oh ok," she replied and was about to sit down at the table and flick through a magazine that she had left behind earlier, when Mrs. Brief spoke again.

"Well seeing as you're all dressed up and able to go out, is there any chance you could go get Vegeta for me, Bulma?"

"What the...? No absolutely not! I'm not going out there just to get shouted at!"

Mrs. Brief giggled, "Aw now come on Bulma he's such a lovely young man, and so good looking as well, what have you got to be afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of that baka!" she declared, angry at the insinuation.

"Then you have no reason not to go do you?" said the old lady in her usual plaintive way giving her daughter absolutely no choice but to do as she was told.

The control panel on the side of the capsule flicked open as her hand reached out to have a sneaky peek at the gravity pressure. To her surprise, however, the console wasn't giving out a reading at all.

"Guess he's not there." She thought to herself, and was about to turn away, when a blue light caught her eyes. It was emanating from one of the capsule windows, and wondering what in Kami's name was going on, she silently crept towards it to peer inside.

Vegeta was sat on the opposite side of the room with his back straight and legs crossed in an almost infantile way. The way he behaved occasionally reminded her of a spoilt child; the position suited him.

Something that looked very similar to a scouter was placed over his left eye and attached via an earpiece to his head. Four pieces of highly polished metal floated silently in front of him. Two were in a similar alignment to his shoulders and the others were floating barely inches from the floor. A blue beam was being projected by each one and created an iridescent screen of pure light. The display seemed to be split into two sections. On one side there were lines of strangely curtailed alien script, whilst on the other side lights appeared and then disappeared in a variety of randomly programmed sequences. Vegeta's fingers moved skilfully across the screen, they were travelling at such a rate that she had a hard time trying to track their movements. Simultaneously his head was twitching slightly but from what she could see there was no coordination between his fingers movement and his eyes, "What is he doing?" she wondered. The scientist inside of her was making her more than usually inquisitive. She had to get her hands on whatever it was that he was using. She had to study it, understand it; she had to learn how to use it. Undeterred by any reluctance to disturb him and face that fiery temper of his, she mechanically opened the door and walked inside. He didn't move. His eyes were still transfixed as she entered.

Deciding that he probably hadn't noticed her yet, she sat quietly down on the other side of the capsule and watched him intently. A good ten minutes passed and Bulma was starting to feel that it was necessary to get his attention, when he closed his eyes. The screen blinked out of existence in front of him, and the projectors drifted gently into his waiting hand. With the other he released a hidden catch on the side of the scouter that she knew released its attachment to the ear. He wandered over to a small metallic box that sat next to the central computer and gently laid the machine inside. Without looking up he said, "What do you want?"

His voice had none of its usual harshness or impatience. It sounded just as he looked… mentally exhausted. "I just came to let you know that dinner is ready." She replied a little surprised that he had known she was there the whole time and had let her stay until he was finished. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine! I'm a Saiyan!" he snapped whilst trying to keep his balance. His face contradicted his assertions; it was pale and covered in a fine film of sweat. She could see that he was struggling to stand up straight and that his eyes weren't focussing properly. His legs gave way and he went down onto all fours. Without thinking about what she was doing she ran across to were he knelt and studied his physiology trying to figure out what on earth was the matter with him. "Leave me alone!" he barked, "Its humiliating being fussed around by a human, I'll be back to normal in no time, it's just a stupid side affect from the link."

"The link? Is that to do with the machine you were using?"

"Of course it is Baka." He spat, gingerly getting to his feet again.

"What's it for?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Then I'll just have to figure it out for myself." She replied matter-of-factly and walked over to the small box she'd seen him lay it in.

"Go ahead," he scoffed, "you wont be able to use it. Its run differently to human technology, I bet you can't even figure out how to turn it on."

Bulma laughed to herself at this statement. Little did he know that she'd had experience with Saiyan technology before. Trying not to so much as blink, she effortlessly placed the scouter to her ear and clicked it into place, before willing the tiny computer inside to turn itself on. She couldn't help but steal a sly look in his direction as the scouter's V.D.U sparked into life, and the small projection modules gave up their place in the box to hover in front of her.

"But…" he started to stammer, but stopped as soon as he realised that he was letting his astonishment get the better of him.

"What's the matter Vegeta?" she teased. " Did you honestly think that I wouldn't know how to work Saiyan technology? You seem to keep forgetting that I'm a genius." The projected energy screen flashed up full before her and she lightly ran her fingers across it trying to figure out what had to be done next.

"Ha, now you're stuck." Grinned Vegeta triumphantly. "So what's next, huh, genius?"

"Gees Vegeta, give us a chance, I almost got it." She replied angrily.

"What do you mean almost got it? You can't possibly have a clue how to use it. There is only one way you could even come close to..."

Bulma turned to face him and grinned from ear to ear.

"But there's absolutely no way!" he asserted, and stared at her not knowing whether she was bluffing or not. "I don't understand?" he said taking a step towards her and clenching a fist. "Where did you learn Saiyan?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out Vegeta." she replied spinning around and facing the screen to carry on with her analysis. Using her fingers to gently scan down the writing that formed the majority of the display she came to a touch sensitive icon at the bottom of the page. The text flipped and separated at her touch before condensing back to reveal the page that Vegeta had been working on earlier. Image upon image rushed through her unprepared human senses and almost knocked the wind out of her fragile body. She gasped and took a step back trying to regain some control over the awe-inspiring visions that were streaming across her brain.

"Ha, I knew you couldn't handle it!" exclaimed her companion.

Bulma couldn't reply, her teeth were gritted together and small beads of sweat fell from her forehead. He was right. She couldn't handle it, the images were trying to control her actions and force her to continue, but she couldn't. She closed her eyes in defeat severing the link between the incomplete computer programs. The blue light that had seemed to engulf her vanished, and the small pieces of floating machinery fell to the floor. She felt her body convulse and twitch uncontrollably as she grasped for the release catch on the scouter. Her hands were furiously trying to co-ordinate themselves but she felt dizzy and disorientated. Unconsciousness was looming in the background and she fell to the floor straining to keep her eyes open.

"What the hell…" she began to say, but a vague feeling of nausea silenced her, mid sentence, and she blacked out.

When she woke again she realized she was still in Vegeta's training room, but with one major difference. The cold hard floor that she had passed out on had been replaced by something else. She saw Vegeta looking up out of the window and to all appearances calm and relaxed. He had placed her head on his folded up "badman" shirt and was kneeling beside her unaware that she had regained consciousness. Bulma wasn't sure what to do. Her head still felt groggy and her muscles ached. "What happened Vegeta?" she asked in complete bewilderment.

"You passed out." He replied nervously trying to move away from the beautiful woman next to him.

She put out an arm and grabbed his wrist stopping him momentarily. "What is that machine?" she asked.

"A simple training program nothing more." He replied extricating himself from her tight grip and walking to the opposite side of the room.

"I don't understand Vegeta, what did it just do to me?"

"You tried to do too much, too quickly, your brain couldn't cope. It took me days of practice just to learn how to use the damn thing when I was first given it. The amount of control you had over it was impressive, but you should have known that activating the game would be too much for you to handle alone."

"Game?"

"Yes, it's a game." He replied testily. "You caught the crown prince of Vegeta-sei playing an electronic game! There are you happy?"

"Hey don't be like that Vegeta!" she scolded whilst trying to get some feeling back into her legs. "We all have to relax at some point, you're no exception. If you have fun playing games then who am I to laugh at you?"

"What are you talking about woman? Fun and time to relax have absolutely nothing to do with it!"

"Then what does?" she queried.

"Ugh, I told you a minute ago that it's a training exercise. I know you have a small, flawed and decidedly human brain, but please try and keep up!"

"Well this small, flawed and decidedly human brain hurts like hell at the minute thanks to your crappy game, so stop shouting you baka!" she spat back.

Vegeta smirked, he had rattled her and brought her down to expletives again, things were back to normal and precisely the way he liked it. He loved to watch her when she got angry. The spirit and brilliance in her eyes was a something like he had never seen before, and although at that minute her eyes looked at him with vehemence and hatred, he had nothing but admiration at her audacity in his.

No outward display mirrored his thoughts, and he was ever careful of how he behaved around her. The knowledge that his desire for this weak, defective human had somehow become more than just a casual interest scared him beyond any enemy that he had ever faced. He was in new and unfamiliar territory and disliked the sensations associated with it.

"So this game helps your training?" she inquired forcing him to once again speak.

He hated to have to explain, but found it increasingly difficult to deny her requests. He took a deep breath and began. "I imagine that you've been around enough fighters to realise that more than just physical strength is required on the battle field. Kakarrot's father was more than just a third class warrior, he was a scientist and in Saiyan terms quite intelligent. Kami only knows why his son is so thick headed, but I guess it must just be the low class genes. He created a lot of the Saiyan technology that my father and Frieza came to rely on. This was one of his inventions, it's designed to heighten the reflexes and quicken the reaction times of the fighters who are strong and dedicated enough to go through the mind-bending process it takes to operate the damn thing. Simply speaking it gives you an advantage and an edge that few fighters posses."

"Do you think that I could learn how to use it?" she replied feeling more than common interest, at the challenge.

"Perhaps if you were properly instructed, you might, but I don't think you could handle it on your own!"

"Then teach me, Vegeta."

"I can't teach you. Instructions have to be interchanged between scouter's, and in view of the fact that I have the only scouter on this miserable planet there would be no point. Even if I did have more than one, why would I waste what precious little training time I have left, before those androids get here, on you?"

"Ok then," she interjected, "What if I was to make a deal with you?"

"What are you babbling about now woman?"

"Would you consider training me as a trade?"

"For what? You don't have anything I want." He lied trying to turn his attention away from her low cut top.

"What if I told you that I was working on an idea that would make your training almost twice as intense as it is at the minute?"

"How do you mean?" he asked with a strange glint in his eye.

"I've been drawing up some schematics for a small device that would allow you to train under gravity pressures almost double that of what you're training under at the minute. If you train me then I'll personally set out a couple of extra hours in my working day to come in here and complete the necessary alterations. How does that grab you?"

"It wouldn't make a difference!" he replied icily. "I already told you that there's no way of giving lessons without an additional scouter. So stop wasting my time and just do whatever alterations need to be done, and forget about me training you."

"Ah ha!" she cried, tentatively getting to her feet. "How can you be sure that you have the only scouter on Chikyu?"

"Will you stop playing games with me woman!" he hissed spitefully. "Just build me that damn machine. I don't have time to worry about anything else!"

"Look I'm offering you a fair exchange here monkey boy! It just so happens that this beautiful and intelligent woman has the remains of the scouter that Raditz wore when he came to Chikyu to fight with Goku!"

"Does it work?"

"Not at the minute," she admitted, "I used it to try and read yours and Goku's power levels when you fought each other. The darn thing almost took my ear off when it exploded, and I made a pact never to repair it."

"Then keep you promise and leave me alone!" he barked back.

"It's not going to happen Vegeta. If you refuse to help me then I'll simply come in here every day and bug you until you say yes!"

Vegeta thought about what she was asking. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. If he could train her to use it properly, then they might be able to link together and spar each other. Back on Vegeta-sei there used to be hundreds of people all hooked up to the system. Continuously being pitted against a competent, but slightly uninspired computer program was frustrating for him. The thought of having someone else to play against and try and outwit on a daily basis was quite appealing. "Very well, if you can get the other scouter to work then I'll teach you. Now can we go get some food I haven't had anything to eat for almost two hours?"

"Sure" she replied heading for the door. "Oh and Vegeta?"

"What now?"

"Thank you." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "You know I think I might actually be starting to get used to you. Maybe my mom is right, maybe we could become friends."

"I'm friends with no one!" he shouted out as he watched her disappear behind the frame. When he was sure he was alone, he pressed his hand against the area of his face her lips had touched. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sensation, before slowly walking out of the door and towards the house.