Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Who Do You Think You're Messing With? ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Who Do You Think You're Messing With?

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

A/N - This fan fiction was written for a competition ran by Phantomnscribe72. I dedicate to it to her for being a fantastic friend, and for the encouragement and support she has given to me. I would also like to dedicated it to all the wonderful friends I've made on the Bulma and Vegeta fanfic forum.

This is the first part of a strictly two-part story. Part two will be up next week.

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I can see her again, but it doesn't matter anymore. I'm nothing more than a voyeur, a silent onlooker to the whirlwind of her life. Liberty, freedom and youth mix up an interesting blend of the perfectionist before me, twirling in front of her mother's eyes as though she were still six years old and the center of her own little universe.

A creature like that is everything I hate. What suffering has she known? What darkness has ever clouded those bright eyes? What disaster has ever wrought the pain of a thousand knives ripping through her heart? She is nothing but a sheltered puppet… a useless by-product of her species' obsession with the materialistic. I wonder if she would be smiling the same way if things were different?

What if 'Little Miss Perfect' had lost her mother when she was six years old, an infuriating age, just old enough to give the recollection of memories and yet nothing material to grab hold of? What if those diamond-studded ears had been victim to years of abuse, listened to insult after insult in an ever-changing barrage of degradation and poison, and what if those sparkling blue eyes had witnessed a tenth of the destruction mine have.

Look at her, twisting her body in an alluring dance before my eyes. She is reveling in her own misapplied beauty, as the boyfriend is fawning over her as though he is oblivious to how wrong he is for her… and that through those laughing and pure eyes she has not long since known how wrong it is too. She is happy to the untrained eye, but she will not fool me. There is sorrow in there, even if it is a vain and pathetically weak sorrow. She puts on the make-up and all at once it is forgotten. Such a stupid and pointless endeavor it must be to play such a game for the sole sake of saving face.

She is not a warrior and I will not judge her as such, otherwise I would have to give her the discredit that she deserves. I would have to call her a coward. She clings to what she has been taught is right. She wraps her arms around the man that is supposed to promise everything that is special in the life of a priceless woman, without thought or objection. The bizarre creature thinks that a union with the human would be a good idea, but I know her inducement.

She wants commitment, she wants a family, she wants safe, boring dependable… something that she is afraid of losing because of her heart. She doesn't joke this way, or play up with the little touches of affection because she wants to have the blood rush from her head and be driven into a sea of passion. No. She does it because her brain has taken over. Sensible, avaricious, and calculated, it blocks all other thought, (conscious or unconscious) and puts on a brave face in the pocket of despair.

How do I know this? Because it is me she is running from. Oh yes, daddy's little angel got herself in too deep with the evil houseguest and now she wants to forget it ever happened. I do not care to play to her game because I know where it is heading.

She thinks she has won. Her eyes tell me as such as they glance up with a glowing of victory from over her lover's shoulder. It's a real pity that her universe is about to shatter. The white satin cloak will have to be clawed off her body and replaced with a gown of blood and darkness to reveal her true self.

She thinks she hides it well. Her brain is so well tuned that she does not see through her own soul anymore. For her mind, it's all just a game and it will continue to deceive her for as long as it is able, but I see it. I see the desire in the pit of those eyes burning with the urge to be set free and satiated in the only way that will satisfy her body. Even as she walks out of the door in that long crimson evening dress, her whole demeanor is exposed in the gait of her stride and the stutter it makes when her eyes catch with mine one last time.

For a second it almost looks as though she recognizes what she is leaving behind. What she ruined five nights ago, what she almost fell into and admitted to me. I wonder if she is reliving that time as I am now, trapped in this state of not-quite knowing. Perhaps she thinks she can pass it off, hand it over, and give it up as another phase of her life that could have been.

She will find out soon enough and then I will make her pay for this. She is the most skilled torturer I have known and it is all the more insufferable because she doesn't seem to think or care on it. I shouldn't be this way. I shouldn't be susceptible to her warped brand of torment, and yet I feel it more than any punishment inflicted on me before.

The woman has absolutely no idea what she has put my body and mind through. She doesn't know how I can still feel the trace of her lips as they glistened over mine, or feel how my fingers played with her hair, as she eventually gave into the darkness. Feh! She is an idiot! She thinks that she can ignore this… me… well I'm afraid it won't happen.

I can still hear her voice from that night and see the tears that spilled from her eyes as I trapped her escape. "Vegeta," I remember her pleading, "Just let me leave."

She struggled like a caged animal as I held onto her wrists, watching and glorying in the pathetic attempt she made to run from me, and what she had done. "No!" I said, breathing heavily, "you will tell me what this is about."

Her face was turned defiantly to the side, her lips pursed into a thin and determined line.

"I'm not going to let go," I continued. "We can stay here all night if we have to."

"It's called a kiss Vegeta," she snarled.

"I know what it was woman. I want to know why you did it?"

"It was a brief lapse in sanity," she accused, "but don't worry I won't let it happen again."

Her body was no longer defiant, only sagged and depressed as it sunk limp in my hold. Her explanation, however, wasn't enough for my curiosity, and I refused her escape by lifting her arms above her head and pushing my body against hers, to keep her upright.

She gasped into my neck, her hot breath pelting my skin. "A lapse in sanity?" I questioned, determined to make her speak.

"Y…yes!" She replied, but the second time there wasn't so much purpose in her voice, "I don't want you Vegeta, I just needed some comfort."

"And so you turned to the devil?"

"I… I…"

I chuckled at this point, evilly making my claim on her senses as I let her wrists go, knowing that she wouldn't be able to escape my body. "So you're nothing more than a whore?"

The rebelliousness returned under my accusation, taunting, wild and passionate, as she struggled. I have never felt so much desire as I did at that moment, but for her purity I tamed my wild instincts. I was the interrogator; I couldn't afford to be blinded myself.

"Fuck you, Vegeta!" she swore with poison, "Let me go!"

"That's not going to happen. I've already told you that. Not until I get to the real reason. You are an adult, and as such you are accountable for your actions. Pleading insanity only works if you have something to be insane over." I enjoyed the look of anger she spat at me, "Do you have something to be insane over?"

"Insane!" she apostrophized, "I'm a frigging lunatic to have even allowed you to step foot in my house, Vegeta. Can't you see what you've done to me? I knew you were dangerous, but holy shit!"

"I can see very clearly what I have done to you, almost as much as I can see what I can do for you… if you will let me."

I moved closer, pushing my lips back up to hers, tasting their sweetness as I let my tongue slide across them. She groaned low in the throat as I deepened the kiss, allowing my desire its full sway. Her lips were unmoving at first, but then, for just a fraction of a second her brain lost the battle with her heart and she reciprocated, pulling me into a drugged dance of her desire.

It was all I needed and at once I pulled away. "You're right," I scorned, disentangling my body from hers and giving her room to leave if she wanted, "It is madness, and it's right here for the taking. I lost my mind a long time ago, onna. You on the other hand have a choice. You can walk out of this room right now and go about your life as though it never happened, or you can come back to me and finish what you started."

There was a pause, hope and anticipation. The door to my bedchamber was just two strides away, the light of the hall, creeping through its frame. She could have run the second I stepped away, but she didn't. Her eyes held with mine. I could see the fight going on behind them. She knew what I was offering, she knew the effects of what had been promised or cursed from my lips. I hadn't offered her love. I hadn't offered her commitment… I had offered her my body and my desire.

"It's your choice Bulma," I encouraged, "Do you want your human? He'd give you commitment, but could you live without passion?"

Her voice was shaking with a mixture of anger and emotion. "You seem very sure of yourself Vegeta," she taunted, "but what makes you so secure that I couldn't get both from Yamcha?"

"Because you wouldn't have come to me tonight if he gave you everything you craved."

"And you'd be willing to give that to me?"

"Yes."

"I see," she smiled, despair on her lips, "You'd give me passion, but not commitment?"

I nodded, silent in anticipation.

"Then I'd be no better off than I am now."

"That's a matter of opinion. Let me show you."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her perfect skin. "I…" she tried to speak through the emotion. "I… why? Why does everything…" she didn't finish, in an instant she had fled, no answer gracing her lips one way or the other. She bolted out of the door as though she had sampled a taste of my darkness, and it had made her sick.

At first I was angry, and I still am, but I have the conviction that she couldn't turn me down, that she needed escape and thought, and so I have given it to her. I have endured for so many days and now I finally have my answer, abused and forced onto me in such a disgusting way. She has shoved it in my face by inviting her old lover to take her out, and it is as distasteful as it is misapplied. She thinks she has her cure of me in the human? Ridiculous!

I said I would give her the choice, but at this moment, sitting in a house that I have yet to call home and which has no true hold over me, I am ever more determined to stay. Is it because I want to rub her face through the dirt when she realizes her mistake, or because her rejection has just made me ten times more resolved to succeed? I want to congratulate my ego on it being the first, but I get the horrible and sour taste in my mouth that my obstinacy springs from not being able to let her go.

It's so disgusting! When did the Saiyan no Ouji become so deranged? How did it happen that I want to prove that I am the only creature that can bring her to such a state of pleasure that it would have to be screamed in the throes of passion? I cannot place an exact time on it. She just seems to have cast a spell on my logic, first applied when she invited me into her house and which has secretly been working its dark art over me ever since, building me up blindly to this point.

The first sickness of obsession was in observation. I watched her for hours at an end, unnoticed, unhindered, and uncared for. It was like a sick and twisted imagery of curiosity mixed to the breaking point with loneliness, disillusionment in myself, and constant deprecation. Then it was her turn to take up the baton I had placed in my own mind. She started to tease. She noticed my attention and she pretended that there was some quarter of reciprocation available to me. She went out of her way to get to know me, asking questions, becoming concerned with my life when I had made it obvious to everyone about me that I didn't require friendship, but she… she persevered where all others had given up.

I wouldn't have been taken up so completely in her pathetic little life if I didn't have encouragement. The boyfriend… the human… he meant nothing to my ambitions with regard to her. As a part of my disturbing vigil I had very often been privy to the façade they called a relationship. What a joke. The human was so out of tune to her world, he couldn't understand her on a level that was so glaringly obvious even to a creature as detached as myself. He was gentle, coaxing and gave way far too easily.

Her eyes never sparkled, only held the light of forgotten or infantile memories when she looked at him. They were filled with a shade of nostalgia rather than present occupation and fire. She liked his attention, she enjoyed his friendship, but there was nothing more raw and powerful than the comfort of a long acquaintance.

"Vegeta-chan, are you feeling ok?"

"Of course I am, stupid." I snarl with unrestrained venom as the mother's voice pierces my skull and throws me out of my thoughts.

"Are you sure, you haven't touched your food. You're usually so enthusiastic about meals."

Sickening witch! Doesn't she know when to let things alone! "What I choose to do is none of your concern, human. Keep it that way."

Not wanting to endure such a demented conversation I leave the room. I will wait for Bulma's return upstairs in the comfort of my own room, where my brain can think things through unencumbered.

The cold and vapid air makes me relax. I like to keep my quarters in keeping with how I have become accustomed over the years. There are no personal artifacts to grace its closed walls other than the training garments that adorn my wardrobe, and the thermostat is kept off at all times, just as I have endured for all my adult life. Only the glow of my ki is needed to balance it when I choose to sleep.

I lay down on the hard sprung and cotton covered bed, looking up to the ceiling, trying to let my mind drift into the plaster. I don't usually spend much time with my head in the past. For such a well-adapted weapon like myself, it is unsafe, but for once I don't give a shit. There is too much to handle in the present and so I will concentrate on the pain of the past as a means to gain an uncertain end.

I don't want to be this way. I shouldn't have let myself become anymore involved with these creatures than I have the others I encountered along my meandering path through the universe. What did I think was going to come of it? Each race has its own way of trying to defeat a warrior. Had I really believed that I was safe on this planet, just because the majority of its inhabitants didn't even know what ki was, let alone how to wield it? Well… I'm never going to be blind to the humans' powers again. Their aim is to break your spirit, confuse your emotions, and then play them against you.

"Idiot!" I scold.

It's a whole lot of nonsense. Since when have I been this way? What the hell am I doing moping around like a lovesick baka when I could just claim what is rightfully mine, and fuck the consequences! The Saiyan no Ouji does not back out of a challenge. Her eyes challenged me, and I will take it up, because in the face of adversity I thrive. Bulma Briefs has made her own bed, and now I will make her lie in it with me!

I allow myself a dry chuckle. She is a damned woman, and I will make absolutely sure to be the one to claim her soul, once and for all.

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