Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Transformation ❯ Chapter 1

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

Chapter 1:
Bulma was particulary distracted today. She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose as she struggled to concentrate on the complicated task of reverse engineering the alien technology surrounding the secret of the regeneration tanks. She sighed for the hundredth time that day. She knew why she couldn't focus on her work, but she didn't want to dwell on it. Frustrated, she pushed away from her custom made mahogany desk and leaned back in her executive leather chair. Idly, she traced little circular patterns with her finger on the plush armrest until she finally caved into the relentless thoughts that swamped her.
Swiveling around, she faced the wall of windows that provided her with a fourteen story view overlooking West City. Standing, she placed her hand on the cool window pane; she was the richest, most brilliant, and beautiful woman on the continent, possibly even the world. She was headstrong, confident, stubborn, independent, and not afraid to speak her mind. These traits allowed her to rise to the top of a typically male-dominated corporate industry. They helped her to be a successful entrepreneur and leader. It was not without a price however, as they had also caused  the strife that appeared to constantly be in her personal life. As a result, her relationships suffered; no man could compete with her, and no man wanted to try. It left her feeling the effects of loneliness everytime she was no longer immersed in her work. In spite of her lack of companionship, she still excelled, until recently. Lately, her innate confidence had been faltering as she found herself plaqued by thoughts of inadequacy.
She scoffed, no doubt caused by a certain egotistical, spikey-haired prince. "Weak, useless humans," she mimicked in a deep, throaty voice. Shaking her head she frowned; that still wasn't the root of her self-doubt. She delved deeper into her thoughts, thinking back to all the instances in which she was not in control of the situation. Where she was at the mercy of others. All her intellect had accounted for nothing when faced with a real, imminent threat. All the instances of danger that she had been subjected to; the bitter taste of fearing for her life in perilous situations. Just praying to Kami that someone, anyone would come and save her. Once stripped of her tools and technology, where would she be? Six feet under without a prayer she estimated. She had long ago realized that she was a liability, a hinderance, as she constantly needed to be rescued. Granted, she was a genious and had more than often proven herself to be a useful asset, she still couldn't get past the fact that she was physically weak and in need of protection. She supposed that before that never used to bother her, but enough near death experiences and looks of disgust from 'Mr. High and Mighty' Vegeta was bound to change that.
To combat some of her feelings of vulnerability, she had determinedly hired a team of private instructors to teach her all the various forms of martial arts, emphasizing heavily in Jujitsu and street fighting tactics. She had even gone so far as to create her own private training room equipped with exercise machines and her state of the art training drones. Her brilliance wasn't limited to simply mathematical equations and quatum physics, as she had proven after absorbing all that her senseis had to teach her in only 4 months. She would've learned everything much faster, except that she still had a business to manage. Her background in gymnastics, yoga, and ballet had assisted to provide the necessary foundation to survive the harsh training regiment she had set for herself. She silently thanked her mother for forcing her into those particular recreations, all in the name of maintaining a lady-like grace, along with a lady-like figure. So, for the past year, in the secrecy of her own training rooms, she had excelled, mastering all forms of hand-to-hand combat becoming one of the strongest, but unknown human fighters on the planet Earth, but it still wasn't enough.
Belatedly realizing that she wasn't going to accomplish anything with her current state of mind, she decided to pay a visit to her very own modified compression chamber. Briskly crossing the expanse of her large office suite, she exited heading for the nearby elevators. Once inside, she placed her palm on the biometric scanner protruding from the wall next to the doors.
"Welcome, Ms. Briefs," an automated voice sounded from a hidden speaker, "which floor?"
"B20," came the terse reply. The elevator moved efficiently and sliently down a total of thirty-four floors. The building itself was one of many owned by the Capsule Corporation, although only a mere fourteen stories high, this building was one of the few that had an extensive laboratory setup below ground. This was the reason she had selected it as her primary office away from home. Down below the surface were her training facilities and private locker rooms, along with many other highly classified projects. Slowing imperceptably to a halt the doors slid open with the ease of a well oiled and maintained machine. With the manner Bulma Briefs is renowned for, she took off towards her locker room, her black pumps clicking on the linoleum tiles in her wake.

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