Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The True King of Thieves ❯ Spider ( Chapter 1 )

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi

Chapter One: Spider

The light of dawn crept of a small figure, hunched into a protective ball, shaking from the cold. Dirt was caked onto her dress and skin; her hair was thick with knots and clinging to her mud-streaked face. A pool of dried blood had collected under her left eye, where tears might've been. Her breath heaved with anxiety as she began to toss and turn in a troubled sleep.

In her mind's eye she saw colors, people, familiarity all mixing and molding to form a strange dream. These images spun around in her head like spider silk, inflicting strange and frightening feelings deep within her. Nothing had correlation, nothing had relevance, it was just pieces of her world strewn about in a confusing half-nightmare. She saw her parents, her home, her friends, but something was wrong. They were all distant, all cold and too far away. It was like some frightening collage of everything she loved.

As her dream progressed, not much changed. Likewise, she continued to toss and turn on the dirty floor, cold and shivering. The fact that she was a mess must've permeated to her dreams, because all the images and colors that were storming in her mind seemed to match her appearance in their sloppiness.

Still, she did not wake. She would've wanted to with a passion had she realized she was dreaming; the nightmare was a frustrating one. She could see her family and friends and she reached for them, but they did nothing but fade, or look at her in disgust and turn away. She struggled, she fought, but everything was farther than she could touch. There was a wall between her and what she loved, and she hated it.

Now, in her dream, she stood before her home, Capsule Corporation. Just another image her brain had conjured up, for reasons beyond her understanding. There it stood, her home, draped in the shadows of a darker dream world, as distant and unwelcoming as the other objects in her dream.

She walked towards it, wanting comfort and escape from this strange nightmare. Home meant so much for her, and though it looked positively sinister at that moment, she couldn't help but be drawn to it.

However, as she walked, the house seemed to be moving. The frightening part of this motion was that it was moving away from her, and in tune with her steps. If she moved slower, the house would move away slower. Immediately thereafter, she would run towards it, but as immediately as she had run, it would speed up. She would try alternating fast and slow, but the house would match her movements perfectly. No matter what, she could not reach it.

Frustrated and disillusioned, she began to run towards it as fast as she could. How cruel it was to see something that she wanted so badly, and then have it taken away from there. Even worse, it was dangling right in front of her and she couldn't get it. Her pace quickened as these frustrations grew, and the house began to move faster away from her to match her pace.

And then suddenly, things took a miraculously good turn. The house stopped. Her eyes widening in disbelief, she smiled brightly and continued to run forwards, pushing herself to run faster but failing. Nonetheless, her pace did not slow; her excitement fueled her to that extent.

Her home grew closer and closer, an amazing change from moments ago. Her dream self reveled in joy as she approached the treasured house. Almost there, she slowed her run to a jog to enjoy the moment, confident that she would arrive at her home. And then, a tragedy that should've been expected struck.

She tripped over something. Immediately, the clumsy girl tumbled to the ground, her eyes still fixated on the house. As she felt her knees touch the ground, the house began to evaporate as the other objects in her dream had. Her home hadn't been real, just an illusion.

A sting of sadness hit her as she watched her home fade, unsurprised. And finally, the rest of her crashed to the ground, her cheek coming in contact with the floor. After watching her home disappear, she had put the hands she had jerked up to protect herself down. She merely turned her head and let it hit the ground.

Without her home, all she had left was her identity. Her name, Bulma Briefs.

With the image of herself looking at her house disappear without a trace of amazement burning in her head, sleep began to recede. Bulma's body jerked a little, and her eyes cracked open. Her dream was gone like her home and had she not been as groggy as she was, she would've been thankful.

Raising the back of her hand to her closed eye, she tried unceremoniously to rub the sleep out of it. Bulma didn't bother to reflect on the dream she had just had, she liked to forget about nightmares instead of sitting there and interpreting them as some did. So, ignoring the images that kept fleeting back to her, she tried to sit upright and orientate herself as she did every morning.

Feeling a head rush, she groaned and put a hand to her sleep-ridden temple. Although, as sleep-ridden as she was, she had no desire to try to return to the dream realm again after that bothersome nightmare. She reminded herself of this, and tried to force her eyes open in an attempt to wake herself.

At first all Bulma saw was stinging light and all she felt was tired and dirty. But then, as the images began to clear, she saw things she didn't expect to. Instead of her room and her bed, she saw a tent surrounding her and a floor that wasn't exactly hygienic. Confusion filled her, and she squinted to make sure everything was real.

"Where the hell am I?" Bulma whispered to her self, her eyes darting around to her surroundings.

What had happened exactly? She remembered no events leading up to her position, nor did she have any clue what was to become of her. Had she been drunk and somehow ended up in some sloppy camper's home? Had she been slipped a sleeping pill and been whisked off to some mountain rendezvous? Did she just have some really bad memory?

The last thought troubled her more than silly suggestions she made to herself on how she ended up in this place. Bulma tried so hard to stop and think about what had happened, but all she remembered was going to bed in her Capsule Corporation home after a hard day of work as usual. She remembered brushing her teeth, hitting the bed like a ton of bricks, and zoning out. What was so different about that? If she had partied hard all night, or been over at a friend's house, she might understand waking up in such a strange place.

All she knew for certain was that she was lying in some sort of thick, sturdy tent, on a floor with blankets and littered with hay, staring up to a weathered ceiling of cloth, having absolutely no idea where she was.

Worse even yet were her clothes. Looking down on them, she gasped in horror and forgot completely about her surroundings. The dress she was wearing, and strangely enough, could be described as similar to medieval, but different nonetheless. It seemed extremely expensive and hand-woven with exquisite skill, every part detailed and important.

Normally she would expect to have more of an idea of where she was from her clothes, but instead things were made even more confusing in many different aspects. It was a style she had never seen before, and not exactly her taste. Her face twisted in puzzlement and she stood up to have a better look at it.

Embroidered with gold and dyed a blue that matched her eyes, it fit her as though it were tailored to her form. If this were true, that would mean someone else had it made for her, she knew she wouldn't pick out the dress herself, it really wasn't her style. But who made it for her and why? All she knew was that it was someone rich.

Realizing it was dirty, she tried to get some dirt off of it, but Bulma knew that it was hopelessly stained. It was almost as if she had rolled around in mud, her hair, skin, and especially her pricey dress were covered in filth. This led to yet more questions. How had she come to this position?

This place was frighteningly bizarre for her, but she had to ignore her fear. She had to think logically and practically of what to do. Bulma was wearing a strange dress in a strange tent and the best thing to do was to stop and figure out why.

Immediately she recalled how this whole time she had used her sight to observe her surroundings. As a scientist she knew it would take more than that. Bulma had to listen for any clues as to why she was here and where she was. Then, she could start figuring out how to get back home.

She absent-mindedly combed her hair with her dirty fingernails while listening carefully to any noise. Voices arose from the tent adjacent and she nearly leapt with joy. She wasn't alone, which meant someone could explain to her what was going on. This meant a great deal to the confused Bulma, so she strained and listened carefully.

"You know, your highness, Kyrinn might prove himself to be more than just another foolish challenger of your authority, he might actually become somewhat of a difficulty."

Questioned flooded but she banished them. Bulma had to access the situation and gather what information she could. So there was some rebellion occurring in this place, but she still had no clue where this place was. Not much interest held there. Who were these people and why was she here?

A defiant snort came from another man and she wondered absently how many men there were. "You never hesitate to test my patience, do you? If you really want to continue to waste my time with your paranoia perhaps you should spare me any sort of prattle about who's next to overthrow me," the man started, "The fool who calls himself Kyrinn has two talents. Music and failure. These talents, unless you want to insist otherwise and again waste my time, will do him little good in winning him leadership. Why don't we leave leadership to the leaders, not the babbling idiots?"

Now she knew that this Kyrinn was a musician and that whoever was talking seemed like a pompous ass. Also, this pompous ass happened to be king for the moment. Frustrated that none of this information was important, Bulma mentally urged them to clue her in as to why she was here.

"Your highness!" the other one, who spoke with a softer and gentler voice, said quickly, "of course you are the wisest choice for leader, but what if the tribe does not completely agree? Kyrinn has charmed his way into their hearts, and I can assure you he has a far better chance of success than he deserves."

"Yes, yes, this is all true, but it still amounts to nearly nothing. I am a better leader and unless every thief in the tribe is a madman, they will come to realize this."

Bulma had to restrain herself from snorting in disgust. She would've without hesitation, but she was eavesdropping so her presence had to remain unknown.

"Of course your highness," the other stuttered, "they'd be daft not to see your talent as leadership."

"Yes, well, that much is obvious. What isn't, however, is why Kyrinn has gained any popularity at all. It seems as though my group of thieves has dropped far below my expectations of them, however low they may be."

"I'm disappointed as well. I only hope I have been of adequate service to you, your highness."

A grunt was the only answer. Afterwards, a lengthy and perhaps awkward pause followed.

"Well then, perhaps I should check on our little… hostage," he said the last part rather jokingly.

Bulma leaned forward intently. Were they talking about her?

"Who? Ahh yes, that wench we picked up in the forest. Go ahead and estimate her worth, I can't have troublesome women running about the tribe, now can I?"

Bulma stirred angrily with a mix of aggravation and excitement that she had been mentioned. So they were having some sort of leadership debate and in the midst of this they picked her up in the forest for no apparent reason. They didn't seem to have a clue why she was there either, but at least they could tell her where she was. Still, she was bothered by this king person because he had referred to her as a "wench" and acted like an arrogant jerk throughout the whole conversation.

"Your majesty, perhaps you should check on her, I'm not very good about judging women, especially to your… specific needs."

Bulma's posture stiffened a bit and she silently prayed that wasn't an innuendo.

"Very well," he muttered, and walked over to Bulma's tent. His figure appeared outlined on the tent and Bulma's brow furrowed with anger. She was going to give this kidnapper a piece of her mind for referring to her in such a low manner, no matter who he was.

The leader of the tribe walked to her tent, opened the flap, and froze.

What she saw was a muscular, rather short man with widow's peaks and black hair spiking upward. Hair that defied gravity didn't impress her much, the muscles, however were amazing. His nose and mouth were small and scrunched up in a grimace, his eyes big, and his forehead large. Overall, she thought he was attractive, but not breathtakingly so. He was unique, that was for sure.

What Vegeta saw was something different. Standing on the dirty floor in front of him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. He was certainly taken aghast by it, and almost stumbled backwards. He had expected some common whore but what he saw was a blue-haired, blue-eyed peace of perfection.

His eyes ran over the features in her face and could see nothing but this perfection. Any flaws he saw were meaningless when compared to the whole of her beauty. How could he find such a treasure in the wilderness of the forest? How could he have ever insulted such indescribable, heavenly beauty?

This was certainly a shock. It was almost as though fate had bought him this woman; she seemed so beautiful. The circumstances of her arrival would certainly suggest this, but he never believed in fate. And how could he stop to think about the workings of life and destiny when there was this gorgeous woman standing before him.

He stopped himself before he could get too carried away. She was a woman, he had to remember. A beautiful one, but a woman nonetheless. Women could only mean one thing: trouble.

So assuming his natural, casual position, he looked her up and down once more (only this time far more judgmentally), frowned in disgust, and said, "so is this the flea-bitten forest peasant that annoying pest of a boy tried to surprise me with? To think I expected anything more of him."

Bulma's face twisted in revolt. "Uh excuse me, can you tell me where I am? "

"That won't be necessary," he said waiving his hand, "you have a purpose here, if you can conceive it, and I have full intention of you completing this by…. Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow will do fine."

Bulma didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, but curiosity was getting tiresome. Instead of asking, she planted her hands on her hips and through clenched teeth said, "LOOK, I'm not going to say this again, who are you and where am I?"

He stared at her quizzically. Never had he seen such fire in a human woman. Perhaps she was a sorceress; it would explain her beauty and appearance in the forest. "Are you a sorceress, woman? Is that what you were doing in the forest?"

"Forest? Sorceress? What are you talking about?" This confusion, however, did not phase her anger, "Anyway, I have to be getting back to Capsule Corporation Can you PLEASE tell me where I am?"

His expression melted to a similar confusion and he looked her up and down once more. "What are you babbling about? If you're not a sorceress, what are you, mad?"

She laughed. "I know SOMEONE's been playing too many role-playing video games. How about you get your head out of Final Fantasy or whatever it is you're into and tell me how to get out of here?"

"Role-playing what? Fantasies?" His frustration was evident. "Is this some Miyana babble you're pestering me with?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't know what a video game is," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Nay, you annoying madwoman, I have never heard of such a game."

She stopped and looked him carefully in the eye. "Have you been living in a cave for the past 300 years, or something?"

"Of course not! Now answer me, are you Miyanan, or not?"

Bulma was getting tired already of constant question and answers that only confused the person more. "Ok," she said, holding up a hand in defeat, "since we don't seem to have any clue about what each other is saying, why don't we start at the beginning. What year is it?"

"Is this a joke? It's 2490! Why do you act as if you don't know this?"

"EXSCUSE ME? Don't tell me I ended up on some kind of time machine my dad built and didn't tell me about!" she paced around infuriated, thoughts crowding around in her head. She paced for a few moments, trying to sort everything out when suddenly a realization dawned on her.

"No, wait, you said it's 2400 and something, I'm sure by now you guys have plenty of time machines and can get me back in no time. Wow, no problem there."

"Machines? The only machine I've heard of is a pulley. An advanced but useless device, if you ask me."

Her mouth nearly dropped to the floor. "That's IT! It's 2490 and THAT'S the best you can do!"

"Of course, what else would you expect? The sorcerers rely on magic and the Miyanans rely on whatever silly device their small brains can invent. Besides, everyone knows that the Creator made the land only 2,490 years ago."

She rolled her eyes. "No way could a planet be that new. Anyway, what's this magic you're talking about?"

"Foolish woman! You can not honestly expect me to believe that you don't know what magic is!"

"I know what it is!" she said, frustrated, "I just don't believe it exists!"

"You don't BELIEVE that it doesn't exist? Are you to tell me you don't believe in the sky existing, or the oceans, or even the Creator herself?"

"Well geeze, sorry, I guess I'm going to have to look into this magic stuff… Wait, did you say the Creator is a woman?"

"Of course, you idiotic wench! With such foolishness, I could swear you're kin of Kyrinn."

"There you go with this Kyrinn person. Is he trying to be leader or something?"

"Yes. TRYING. And failing of course. He's got this ridiculous notion that I'm some sort of run away Miyanan prince. Only imaginary excuses to turn my tribe against me."

"Ah ok, so this is a tribe and you two are fighting over leadership. So I'm stuck in some kind of forest, with some kind of rude king person, with no technology, and no hope of getting home. WONDERFUL. What year did you say this was? Oh right, 2490."

She collapsed into a seated position on the hay again.

"What's the matter now, woman?!" Vegeta said, practically bleeding frustration.

"What isn't the matter? I think I'm stuck in some sort of alternate timeline, cause there's no WAY my timeline would turn out like this. And, I have no clue how I got here and so I don't know what I'm going to do to get back."

Vegeta sighed a frustrated sigh, turned around, and over his shoulder said, "I'll tell you what you should do. Stop endorsing whatever foolishness you seem to be inventing and follow me."

"Why? Where are you going?" she said, but stood up anyway. There wasn't much else to do, as long as it wasn't slavery she might as well see what he had planned for her.

"Stop asking questions, I believe I've had enough of those! If you truly have no notion of where you are, then it's in your best interest to look around."

Since when was he so worried about her "best interest"? She barely knew the man! Bulma went over these thoughts hurriedly but chose to follow him anyway. Whoever this man was, he knew things that she wanted to find out.

"Ok, I'll tag along, but what's your name, anyway?"

He opened the tent flap and swiveled his head over, a confused expression smudging his features.

"You shall address me as 'Your Highness'. And only because it is necessary to know your king's name, I will tell you. It's Vegeta. And if you chose to call me this-"

"Oh, Vegeta! That's a funny name. Mine's Bulma."

He continued walking but glared at her ferociously. "I told you woman, do not-"

She interrupted him once again, "RELAX, pal, what's wrong with calling you by your name?"

He grunted disapprovingly, "Fine, woman. My temper is fair today, but don't believe you can ever get away with calling me those ridiculous nicknames or pet names some woman chose to call me."

"Ok, Vegeta," she said, giving him a hearty pat on the back, "I promise."

He looked at the gesture in puzzlement and shook his head. "If this is all a trick to obtain some food and shelter, I must say you've outdone yourself."

"Yeah, me an actress. What a disaster that would be." She laughed and he just shook his head once more and continued walking.

As she took a glance at him, she felt another feeling sneak over her. Somehow, looking at the spiky-haired king, she'd felt he would be a primary aspect of her life for a while. Sure, they had only met moments ago, but he still stirred her intuition.

She knew, without knowing him long, she would be hearing a lot about Vegeta in the months to come.