Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Death of the King ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Cordelialove 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.02.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 554 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.02.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 554 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter one
Vegeta roared with pleasure as his fists collided with the servo bots. They’d been programmed to take in his ki and give an intense output of ki blasts, challenging Vegeta to almost fight himself. The old doctor had perfected them only a week ago, but Vegeta was already getting bored.
As he rose higher in power his mental state had been deteriorating. He’d been spending far more time inside his head than anywhere else, contemplating his past, present, and extremely uncertain future.
On Vegetesai his life had been set in motion years before he was born. He knew his destiny, lived for it even, and he reveled in the fact that he was the strongest thing on his planet and, as far as he was concerned, the galaxy. His power was feared and adored, and every whim he had was catered to. Any forms of opposition or displeasure were quickly eradicated by the millions of followers that worshipped him. They had called him chosen.
His knuckles crunched into the metallic stomach of the bot and he growled at the memory. He had been something truly magnificent.
But now he was stuck on a planet that, had it been 10 years earlier, he would’ve eliminated without difficulty, and with pleasure. But instead of destroying it, he was fighting to protect it.
His own planet was gone; destroyed before he could be crowned King. He was a lost prince tied to a race of weaklings, and forced to fight for them by the one survivor of his dead race.
Kakarott.
Vegeta sneered and reached back to deliver a crushing blow to the bot flying toward him.
He hated Kakarott; would always hate him, in fact, but not for the reason that most people guessed.
Kakarott was simple minded. He was kind, considerate, and a friend to many humans. In short, he was everything Vegeta could never and would never be. He was also stronger than Vegeta, which tore the prince apart from the inside to think about; but still, that’s not why Vegeta hated him.
Vegeta hated Kakarott with a maddening bloodlust because Kakarott had betrayed him in a way no other Saiyan had.
The bigger man had been a full blooded Saiyan, sent as an infant to purge the earth as part of his infant conditioning. The Saiyan had failed and the man inside adapted to human ways.
When faced with his prince he was disrespectful, and seemingly immune to the sense of loyalty all of Vegeta’s followers had succumbed to when in his presence.
Vegeta’s last living subject was a slave to human ways. It was treason.
Vegeta grunted as a ki beam from a nearby bot nearly took his head off. He had been letting these thoughts get the best of him and it was causing his trainings to become erratic. He thought of Kakarott, and he thought of the future. He had no planet to go back to, no loyal subjects, and a royal ego that could not be smothered by a thousand beatings; his time under Frieza being a prime example of that.
No, he was tied to the earth; and unhappily. He didn’t know what would become of him after the androids were defeated. All he knew was that as he grew stronger, his mind grew wearier.
The loud hum of the gravity room slowly dwindled and each bot fell from the air, crashing to the floor of the gravity room. Vegeta let out a roar of frustration as the door opened.
“God, relax Vegeta, I’ll just be a minute. You were about to fry the circuits in here and I’d rather not take another round of calls from neighbors complaining about their power going off.”
It was the woman.
More disrespectful than any human he’d ever come across, she had proved to be the bane of his existence in these last few months.
Vegeta clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at the floor.
“Woman…” he spat through clenched teeth, “I will not reach super Saiyan with these constant INTERRUPTIONS!” He roared, raising his eyes to hers.
Bulma rolled her eyes, unaffected.
“Chill out, ‘Gita, I’ll be gone in a second.” She moved towards the circuitry but was blocked by Vegeta’s heaving form.
He glared down at her, arms crossed.
“Out.” He said, barely above a suppressed whisper.
Bulma threw down her wrench.
“Goddamit, Vegeta, I am NOT going to let you blow out the power again, now MOVE!” she crossed her arms as well, mirroring Vegeta’s stance.
Vegeta moved closer. His eyebrow raised, he leaned into her angry face.
“Make me move.”
Bulma glared up at him, her light blue eyes darkening in fury.
“Vegeta…” she said slowly, baring her small teeth, “this is MY house, MY property, and MY gravity room. Now MOVE!”
Vegeta reached out quicker than the human eye could detect and grabbed Bulma by both arms, shocking her into silence, then moving even closer to the small woman, his nose inches from her own.
“You think because you have some power in this world that you have any sort of meaning,” he said slowly, quietly.
“Vegeta, wha-“ Bulma tried to interject.
“You are nothing.”
He glared into her eyes, willing her to understand; to submit.
“There are worlds, little one, which even you, in your infinite wisdom, cannot imagine; worlds where pathetic weaklings like you would be sold to the highest bidder, where your endless supply of money would be used for kindling in a fire surrounded by giants, beasts that could consume you as easily as they draw breath.”
Vegeta stepped forward, causing Bulma to stumble and back into the wall.
“The universe worships strength, human. It sniffs at your wealth and cackles at your beauty. It takes from you what it wants because you are weak and discards you once it has taken its fill.
I was worshipped in this galaxy; feared and exalted simply for being. And one day, woman, I will show you fear.
And then you will bow to me.”
And then he was gone.
Bulma stood against the gravity room wall and let out a shaky breath.
‘What was that all about?’
Vegeta roared with pleasure as his fists collided with the servo bots. They’d been programmed to take in his ki and give an intense output of ki blasts, challenging Vegeta to almost fight himself. The old doctor had perfected them only a week ago, but Vegeta was already getting bored.
As he rose higher in power his mental state had been deteriorating. He’d been spending far more time inside his head than anywhere else, contemplating his past, present, and extremely uncertain future.
On Vegetesai his life had been set in motion years before he was born. He knew his destiny, lived for it even, and he reveled in the fact that he was the strongest thing on his planet and, as far as he was concerned, the galaxy. His power was feared and adored, and every whim he had was catered to. Any forms of opposition or displeasure were quickly eradicated by the millions of followers that worshipped him. They had called him chosen.
His knuckles crunched into the metallic stomach of the bot and he growled at the memory. He had been something truly magnificent.
But now he was stuck on a planet that, had it been 10 years earlier, he would’ve eliminated without difficulty, and with pleasure. But instead of destroying it, he was fighting to protect it.
His own planet was gone; destroyed before he could be crowned King. He was a lost prince tied to a race of weaklings, and forced to fight for them by the one survivor of his dead race.
Kakarott.
Vegeta sneered and reached back to deliver a crushing blow to the bot flying toward him.
He hated Kakarott; would always hate him, in fact, but not for the reason that most people guessed.
Kakarott was simple minded. He was kind, considerate, and a friend to many humans. In short, he was everything Vegeta could never and would never be. He was also stronger than Vegeta, which tore the prince apart from the inside to think about; but still, that’s not why Vegeta hated him.
Vegeta hated Kakarott with a maddening bloodlust because Kakarott had betrayed him in a way no other Saiyan had.
The bigger man had been a full blooded Saiyan, sent as an infant to purge the earth as part of his infant conditioning. The Saiyan had failed and the man inside adapted to human ways.
When faced with his prince he was disrespectful, and seemingly immune to the sense of loyalty all of Vegeta’s followers had succumbed to when in his presence.
Vegeta’s last living subject was a slave to human ways. It was treason.
Vegeta grunted as a ki beam from a nearby bot nearly took his head off. He had been letting these thoughts get the best of him and it was causing his trainings to become erratic. He thought of Kakarott, and he thought of the future. He had no planet to go back to, no loyal subjects, and a royal ego that could not be smothered by a thousand beatings; his time under Frieza being a prime example of that.
No, he was tied to the earth; and unhappily. He didn’t know what would become of him after the androids were defeated. All he knew was that as he grew stronger, his mind grew wearier.
The loud hum of the gravity room slowly dwindled and each bot fell from the air, crashing to the floor of the gravity room. Vegeta let out a roar of frustration as the door opened.
“God, relax Vegeta, I’ll just be a minute. You were about to fry the circuits in here and I’d rather not take another round of calls from neighbors complaining about their power going off.”
It was the woman.
More disrespectful than any human he’d ever come across, she had proved to be the bane of his existence in these last few months.
Vegeta clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at the floor.
“Woman…” he spat through clenched teeth, “I will not reach super Saiyan with these constant INTERRUPTIONS!” He roared, raising his eyes to hers.
Bulma rolled her eyes, unaffected.
“Chill out, ‘Gita, I’ll be gone in a second.” She moved towards the circuitry but was blocked by Vegeta’s heaving form.
He glared down at her, arms crossed.
“Out.” He said, barely above a suppressed whisper.
Bulma threw down her wrench.
“Goddamit, Vegeta, I am NOT going to let you blow out the power again, now MOVE!” she crossed her arms as well, mirroring Vegeta’s stance.
Vegeta moved closer. His eyebrow raised, he leaned into her angry face.
“Make me move.”
Bulma glared up at him, her light blue eyes darkening in fury.
“Vegeta…” she said slowly, baring her small teeth, “this is MY house, MY property, and MY gravity room. Now MOVE!”
Vegeta reached out quicker than the human eye could detect and grabbed Bulma by both arms, shocking her into silence, then moving even closer to the small woman, his nose inches from her own.
“You think because you have some power in this world that you have any sort of meaning,” he said slowly, quietly.
“Vegeta, wha-“ Bulma tried to interject.
“You are nothing.”
He glared into her eyes, willing her to understand; to submit.
“There are worlds, little one, which even you, in your infinite wisdom, cannot imagine; worlds where pathetic weaklings like you would be sold to the highest bidder, where your endless supply of money would be used for kindling in a fire surrounded by giants, beasts that could consume you as easily as they draw breath.”
Vegeta stepped forward, causing Bulma to stumble and back into the wall.
“The universe worships strength, human. It sniffs at your wealth and cackles at your beauty. It takes from you what it wants because you are weak and discards you once it has taken its fill.
I was worshipped in this galaxy; feared and exalted simply for being. And one day, woman, I will show you fear.
And then you will bow to me.”
And then he was gone.
Bulma stood against the gravity room wall and let out a shaky breath.
‘What was that all about?’