Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Weapon ❯ Two ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: In terms of Bulma's age, she was 22 when she was abducted from Earth, making her 28 now. If you're interested in seeing what ages all the other characters are, I suggest using the timeline on the Pojo dragonball website, as I've taken the dates of everything from there.

Two

Day 165 in the Standard Year 762

“You idiot!” the trader cried in Ganshup, whirling around to face his idiot cousin. “They understood you! How many times have I told you not to talk about things like that in front of the customers?!”

“Aww boss, they didn't hear anyth -”

“They heard it all, you fool!” His voice dropped low, his teeth grinding together behind his trunk. “Did it occur to you that those Saiyans might still be hanging around? If they heard you saying such things- and they have crazy hearing, you idiot! If they heard you… or if whatever-that-bitch-was knows them, they'll come back here now. I know what those Saiyans are like. I wasn't always stuck on this goddamned shithole. I remember how it was in the old days when Saiyans were everywhere... they're fucking ruthless! You're going to get us killed, you useless motherfucker!”

“Yeah… well if you're that worried, boss, I'll go get them back. They can't talk if they're dead,” his cousin added, waving a dirty pink hand in the general direction that the two customers had headed.

“That's the smartest thing you've said all day,” the trader replied, pushing past his cousin and reaching under the back bench. He pulled out his old blaster, sighing as he slung the strap over his shoulder.

“I'll go after them myself.”

. . .

It was plain old Human instinct that made Bulma leave the merchant's stall so quickly, and she worried over it as she continued to move quickly through the crush of bodies that surrounded both her and her daughter. Though the merchant had let her go, she had a distinct feeling that he didn't believe her when she said she didn't understand Ganshup, and she continued to check behind her, looking out for either of the two aliens from the stall.

If it were me, she thought, her chest tight with fear, and I thought I someone had information that threatened my life, I would not have let them go. And that was the crux of it; she'd learnt, over the past six years, just how much of a dog-eat-dog world the universe was. An eye for an eye, a fist for a fist; this was how the universe functioned away from the sheltered life that had once existed on Earth.

The fact that Saiyans, The Saiyans, had been here in the same market just a day before was something to wonder at, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on leaving the fair as quickly as possible.

As she ran through Shoka Fair, Bulma did her best to ignore the ache of her arms, and the burning of her chest as she gasped for breath. Underneath her hood her hair grew damp and matted to her forehead, and her eyes began to sting as beads of sweat rolled down her face.

Still, she did not slow her frantic pace, knowing that her daughter would keep up easily. Though their movement through the crowd was hindered by all the other aliens, they still grew closer and closer to the southern edge of the market. From there it was only a short distance across an empty plateau to the edge of a short, but sharp cliff. It was at the bottom of the sharp drop- far away from the parking lot on the northern edge of the vast market- that Bulma had left their small ship, in the hope that neither the ship nor themselves would be recognised.

“Almost there,” she gasped, seeing the crowd thinning ahead. Her blue eyes met the matching pair of her daughters, and her heart broke, seeing the fear in those innocent eyes. This was far less of a life than her daughter deserved, and it drove her wild that she was powerless to do anything about it. Once upon a time she had lived like a queen, and her daughter deserved no less. Yet here they were, amongst the throngs of petty criminals and evil soldiers, always on the run and struggling to survive. What kind of life was that for a child?

They came to the edge of the fair, ignoring the few seedy individuals who lingered here on the outskirts. Heads down and hoods masking their faces, they hurried away from the market and towards the cliff edge in the distance. Bulma continued to check behind them, but the drug addicts and gamblers were far too consumed in their own lives to pay them any attention, and she felt the worry in her chest begin to lighten. They were almost safe.

The ground was rough, strewn with loose stones and the odd, cactus-like plant. “Careful!” she gasped, as Bra swerved around one of the poisonous plants, the child's small hands letting go of her mother's clothing for a moment. The little girl turned around to face Bulma effortlessly, her movements graceful as she continued to keep at her mother's pace with ease.

“It's okay Ma - MAMA!” Bra squealed, her eyes wide as saucers as she peered at something in the distance. Bulma stopped running and whipped her head around, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the mess of stalls and shacks behind them. Her eyes widened as she spotted what her daughter's keen sight already had- the trader from the spare parts stall was racing towards them on a hover bike, a nasty looking ki-blaster strapped to one of his arms.

“Bra!” she yelled, dropping the boxes of parts from her arms. “Get the ship running!” she cried, gesturing widely to the cliff edge. Bra hesitated, her bright blue eyes wide with fright behind the shadow of her hood.

“But Mama!”

“GO!” Bulma yelled, dropping to her knees as she pulled a capsule out of her pocket. Pressing down on the cap, she placed it directly in front of her, and wasted no time in picking up the large blaster gun that appeared in its place.

Cursing, she realised that she only had enough energy in the gun for one shot as she swung the huge weapon onto her shoulder and peered down the sight. This, of course, only added to the danger, giving her only one chance to get it right.

“Kami damnit,” she hissed under her breath, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. In the background she heard the noise of the ship's revving engine, but she barely registered the fact as she peered down the barrel of the blaster, waiting for the perfect moment. Too soon and she'd miss; too late, and the stupid merchant would kill her instead.

Bad luck. The bitter thought ran through her head, making her blood boil. Of all things, to be hunted because she'd overheard a conversation that put the merchants in potential danger from Saiyans… of all things! She hissed under her breath, shifting her knees subtly. The merchant was still travelling towards her at full speed, his arm rising as he planned to take his own shot.

She pulled the trigger, her heart stopping as nothing happened. “No, no, no!” she cried as the gun failed to work, no powerful laser beam flying forth from the barrel. With horror she realised that the trader was now close enough to use his own weapon, and she sat frozen on the dry ground as he steadied his arm, his bike still racing towards her.

“MAMA!” she heard Bra scream, at the same moment she saw a flash of red emerge from the trader's gun.

Bright light filled her vision, blinding her, as her daughter's screams filled her ears. She screamed too, as hot air blasted her skin, throwing her hood back and whipping her long aqua hair out behind her. Fear filled her, fear for her daughter's safety, and for herself, even as the light disappeared and the hot wind died down.

She was blind. She blinked, ears ringing and eyes streaming as her vision slowly came back, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. She squinted painfully, making out the capsules around her, the fallen boxes of parts that she so desperately needed, and Bra, standing just in front of her.

“Bra,” she croaked, and licked her dry, chapped lips. “Bra!” She crawled forward on her hands and knees, feeling far too shaky to stand. Bra turned towards her, her blue hair a mussed up mess and her cloak hanging open, and collapsed into Bulma's arms with a sob.

“I don't know what happened Mama, but I want to go!” the little girl cried, burying her face in her mother's bosom. Bulma wrapped her arms around her daughter's small form, closing her eyes and burying her face in her daughter's hair. It was only when Bra's sobs began to die down that her thoughts, still in a state of confusion, alerted her to the fact that she was alive when she should not have been, for surely the trader had had ample opportunity to kill them both now?

She lifted her face from Bra' hair, a gasp escaping her lips as her mouth dropped open, eyes wide in surprise. Before her, where the marketplace had been only minutes before, was nothing but charred, smoking earth. There was no trader in sight, no other aliens, no stalls, no shops.

She shuddered, realising that there was no other life left on the plateau but her and her daughter. The sight brought back memories of the purge on Earth, memories that she had long tried to suppress.

Bra sniffled, rubbing her little face against Bulma's shirt. Licking her lips, Bulma swallowed nervously, despite her dry throat. “Bra, honey,” she whispered, “do you know what happened just now?”

The little girl shook her head furiously, fresh tears spilling from her reddened eyes. “Nooo!”

“You don't know at all? I thought you were down at the ship?” Bulma asked gently, stroking her daughter's hair. “How did you get back up the cliff?”

Bra rubbed her eyes, pressing herself further against her mother. “I jumped back up. And I saw the bad man shoot, and I got so angry and scared `cause he was gonna hurt you Mama, and I don't know what happened!” she cried, her voice rising in distress. “My skin got so hot, and my hands hurt!” At this final statement the little girl began to wail outright, and Bulma held her tighter, her head reeling and her heart sore as she came to the only conclusion that made any sense.

Her daughter had destroyed Shoka Fair.

. . .

Bulma wrapped a towel around her dripping daughter, being careful not to touch Bra's burnt hands. She knelt beside the child and rummaged through the small bathroom cabinet, pulling out a small jar of soothing lotion and opening the lid. Both mother and daughter screwed their noses up reflexively as the strong antiseptic smell permeated the air, overriding the citrus scent of Bra's freshly-washed hair and tail.

Ignoring the smell, Bulma dipped a finger into the jar, and began to gently rub the cream into her daughter's blistered hands. “Does that feel better sweetie?” she asked, dipping her finger in the jar once more, before rubbing another dollop over the child's reddened skin. Bra nodded in reply, although her sweet face remained pinched with pain.

“If only we had a senzu bean,” Bulma murmured under her breath, eyeing Bra's hands. The burns were more than enough proof that the girl had flattened over a square mile of stalls accidentally, and Bulma chewed her lip with worry.

“What's a sennsuu?” Bra asked, and Bulma smiled, picking her daughter up in her arms and carrying the girl through the ship to their small bedroom.

“A senzu,” she replied, adopting the tone she always used when telling her daughter a bedtime story, “is a magical bean.”

“Like Jack's bean and the giant beanstalk?”

“No,” Bulma replied with a laugh. “Jack and the Beanstalk is a fairy-tale. Senzu beans were real beans, and they grew on Earth. My friend Son-kun was the first person to ever show me some senzu beans. A big old talking cat gave them to him.”

“Yay! It's a Son-kun story!” Bra cried, her voice muffled by her towel as Bulma scrubbed the girl's hair dry. “Those stories are my favourite! I want to hear about Son-kun and the magic dragon again!”

“All right, all right,” Bulma replied, pulling a nightgown over her daughter's head. She held the tail-hole at the back of the gown open for Bra so that the child could slip her tail through the garment, before picking up her daughter's hairbrush to begin the time-consuming task of teasing out all the tangles in the girl's hair. “But I'll tell you about the senzu beans first, okay?”

“O-kay!” Bra replied, her burnt hands forgotten as she clambered up onto the small bed they shared. “Tell me!”

. . .

Bulma waited until she was certain that Bra was sleeping before slipping out from under the bedcovers. Bra stirred and murmured intelligibly, making Bulma freeze, the edge of the blanket still in her hand as she watched her daughter's eyelids flutter, but the little girl's movements stilled once more, allowing Bulma to sneak out of the bedroom.

She was glad to have a little solitude, she thought, especially after the day they'd just had. She didn't bother switching on the main lights in the corridor that cut through the heart of their small ship, and simply felt her way down the hall and into her lab.

“Kami,” she whispered as she stood in the lab doorway. In the dark she could see out the small porthole, and she leaned against the doorframe, watching the stars in the distance.

My daughter killed them all.

She chewed her lip, her eyes focused on nothing in particular as she ran through the day's events in her mind. She regretted even setting foot on Shokata; in hindsight the parts, as important as they were, hadn't been worth the trouble.

With a sigh she switched on the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent. She sat down at her computer, pulling up the latest news reports. The destruction of Shoka Fair had made the headlines, and she skimmed through numerous articles with a heavy heart. “Ten thousand estimated casualties,” she whispered, feeling sick. “Holy shit.”

As far as she could tell, Bra had no recollection of firing a ki blast, nor did she understand exactly what had happened. To the little girl, the disappearance of Shoka Fair was due to some random act of `magic', and Bulma wasn't about to correct her on that assumption.

She had known from the beginning that her daughter would be strong. She shivered as she remembered the old, green-beaked doctor that had presided over the `experiments' on Frieza's base. Dr. Mul had chosen the best genetics for her child; after all, Bra was supposed to have been Frieza's ultimate weapon- a child that had her genius, combined with the strength of the Saiyan Prince. Her blood froze at the thought of Bra purging planets and being subjected to the cruel life in Frieza's army.

And yet, purging planets was not far from what had happened today. Bra had single-handedly killed a ten thousand in an instant, without even knowing what she was doing. The sheer monstrosity of Bra's dormant power shocked Bulma, and only reinforced her opinion of what was necessary.

Bra needed training. Bulma knew as much from her own experiences with fighters; back before Frieza's soldiers attacked Earth, she had once complained to Master Roshi that Goku trained too much. The old man's reply had been simple; anyone with that much power had to train. Without training, one with that much power risked destroying themselves, and anyone else around them.

As much as the thought of Bra fighting disturbed her, in her heart she knew it was what the girl needed. Bra was half-Saiyan- the same species as Goku- and she knew now that Saiyans lived to fight.

She rubbed her head, feeling a headache coming on, and stared at the wall, her thoughts a jumbled mess. I don't even know how to take care of my own daughter, she thought dejectedly. Parts of her are too alien for me to understand.

Saiyans. She couldn't believe the Saiyans had been at Shoka fair. Kami, I hope they weren't caught in the blast! She knew all about the three remaining Saiyans- she'd stolen their files from Frieza's database, long ago- and she knew they had a reputation for brutal violence. But since their defection from the Cold Empire- not long after she escaped from Frieza's labs herself- they'd engaged in a number of attacks on Frieza's troops. Word had it that the Saiyan Prince was even the man behind the largest rebel group, and that alone gave Bulma hope that she could approach them.

It was a crazy idea, but after the day's events, the need to engage with those that understood her child was stronger than ever. The Saiyan Prince was the father of her child, after all. Surely he would understand, surely he would help a fellow rebel?

For now, though, she had no real way of getting to the Saiyans. They remained secretive, and she only heard word of them every so often, which left her with nothing but her memories of Goku, the odd history books, and the files from Frieza's database to understand her daughter's Saiyan half.

Clicking open the Saiyan folder on her desktop, she pulled up all the files she had, skimming through them despite the fact that she knew each one off-by-heart. Nothing on Nappa, Raditz or Vegeta mentioned sudden increases in power, nor sudden bouts of automatism, and yet she had seen something similar with her own eyes before, the two times that Son-kun had transformed into a giant ape. Both times he's lost complete control of himself, and both times he had no recollection of his actions afterwards.

“She's a hybrid,” Bulma muttered to herself, chewing on her bottom lip. Perhaps- just perhaps- it was the mix of Human and Saiyan blood together that gave Bra such immense hidden power. Son-kun certainly hadn't been that strong as a child.

Hybrid vigour. It was a likely theory- when the scientists on Frieza's base had found out that Chi Chi was pregnant with Goku's baby, and that the child's power level, even within the womb, was high, they'd thrown the term around so much that Frieza himself had caught interest. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered that harrowing time- remembered the hands of soldiers and scientists on her, violating, testing, implanting. Her hands shook and she forced herself to take a deep breath, forced her mind to push the memories back down, far away into that black corner of her mind where they belonged.

Still, the ghost of terror remained, making the hairs rise on her arms. And above it all she felt an overwhelming guilt, because she had escaped from the hell-hole laboratory, and her friends had not.

“Oh Kami… Goku, Chi Chi,” she whispered, thinking of them. Were they still alive? Where was Chi Chi's baby now? And what of all the other Human women that had been taken from Earth? At the time of her escape, over twenty of them had also been impregnated, their bellies swelling with half-Saiyans for Frieza's pet project.

She'd tried her best to find information on the breeding scheme, but if the experiments were still going- and she was certain that they were- the information was hidden somewhere that she hadn't been able to access.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, her mind turning once more to Goku. She'd last seen him in ki-draining chains, looking like the shell of the boy he'd once been. And his young wife...

She slumped back in her chair, tears running silently down her cheeks, a sick hollowness swirling in her guts. Logically, she knew that she had been extremely lucky to escape Frieza's labs. Logically, she knew that there was no way she could have saved them, having only a small window of opportunity to escape herself.

But no amount of logic could erase the guilt. Six years ago she'd chosen to save her own life, her baby's life. She'd murdered a man for it. She'd left her friends to die.

She shut down her computer, slowly rising to her feet. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Her eyes rested on the box of parts that sat inconspicuously in the corner of the lab. They were what she needed, all right, but the thought that ten thousand people at Shoka Fair had died because she'd been there today, buying the parts, chilled her to the core.

She needed to find the Saiyans. Bra needed them.

. . .

A/N: I'm not trying to make Bra overly powerful (she's only five, has no idea what she's doing, and has never had a martial arts lesson in her life). What I'm basing her strength on is Gohan- when he was four, Piccolo threw him at a massive cliff, and he completely destroyed it (and my understanding is that he had no idea/recollection of the attack afterwards). So I think it's possible that Bra could unintentionally throw out an attack when her mother was in immediate danger- especially because this version of Bra (it's an AU after all) was specifically `created' using the best of Vegeta's genes.

Personally, I do think hybrid vigour is to blame when it comes to Gohan's hidden strength. How else could Gohan, Goten and Trunks all have become SSJ at such a young age?