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Resolution on a Lonely Planet	By : Ulrike Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 5386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the DBZ characters. This is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment. No money was made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Warnings: Attempted suicide, self-harm, mention of rape, blood and violence
He was sobbing when she sprinted into the decimated labs of Capsule Corporation. Bulma had never seen her father cry so violently in all her life. The EMTs were quickly hustling a moaning, whimpering scientist away on a stretcher, his chest completely covered in bloodstained bandages. Ambulances were parked outside their domed building as medical personnel and Capsule Corp. nurses tended to employees sporting small cuts and abrasions from the glass and metals that had been hurled through the air. Bulma’s eyes scanned the large area, her mouth becoming dry as she observed the gargantuan cracks in the floor and the destroyed inventions sprawled across the open spaces of their workplace.
Some scientists were sniffling, while others were on their phones, telling their loved ones how much they appreciated them. It appeared that death had walked into Bulma’s safe home and had almost wiped out everything she cherished. She tried asking her father what had happened, but the man was inconsolable. Every time he tried to speak, his words became lost in a flood of garbled, choked gasps. She knew that it involved Vegeta, though. That name seemed to be the only thing the hysterical doctor could spit out before breaking down again.
“Dad, please,” Bulma begged. She was feeling her panic rise with each wasted second she stood there. “What happened here? Where is Vegeta?”
Sitting in a nearby chair, the shaggy-haired scientist wheezed and coughed. “Vegeta is! Veh-Vegeta…”
And then he would cry harder. Bulma straightened and peered around the hectic mess, her worried eyes searching for at least one level-headed scientist. Finally her blue orbs settled on a short, squat man as he sat nearby, mopping his balding head with a towel. He appeared exhausted, but seemed mostly weary as opposed to terrified. Bulma made her way over to him as she left her father with an infirmary nurse.
“Dr. Himura,” Bulma greeted softly as she stood before the rotund man in her flowing skirt and loose shirt. She was off that day, but her presence still demanded a great deal of respect. “I know you have been through a lot. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help any of you. Can you tell me what happened?”
The chubby man looked at her guiltily and then nodded, his face pale and beady eyes drooping with grief.
“An argument transpired in your office between Dr. Briefs and that wild-looking fellow—Vegeta I guess his name is.” The befuddled man mopped the back of his thick neck and shook his head as if questioning what he had seen only minutes earlier. “All I know is that the whole floor shook and your father was thrown out of your office by some kind of propulsion. The Vegeta guy was furious…murderous. He was holding that,” Dr. Himura explained, nodding toward a crumpled mess of papers and leather on a nearby desk, “and he kept screaming about this microchip.”
Bulma flinched and her lips quivered. Reaching out blindly, she pulled a bent, slightly burnt chair toward her and sat heavily. The scientist continued, oblivious to the woman’s sudden shock.
“There was some kind of energy explosion. I don’t know how the guy did it, but it rocked this entire office—shattered glass, destroyed metals, and even knocked people over. Marcus Lee tried calling the police and that Vegeta person shot something at him. He threatened to kill all of us. No one knew why. No one knew what to do. Then…suddenly Dr. Briefs was calling me over and we had to create this remote control from the ripped pages of that book. Hans Probst and I read what it could do. We know what it is for,” Dr. Himura whispered. His fearful eyes stared up at Bulma. “Your dad kept begging Vegeta to rethink what he was doing. I think…I think that guy is going to use it on someone…possibly himself. And I helped build it.”
Bulma couldn’t breathe. The man was disturbed by what had happened, but even through his fear he had been able to see Vegeta’s pain. A dangerous stranger had threatened his life and Dr. Himura was able to pity the crazed saiyajin who had been pushed too far; the saiyajin who had been betrayed by the people who made him believe he could trust them.
Bulma wiped a tear from her eye and nodded. Thanking the sweating man, she stood and made her way to her traumatized father. It seemed that he was finally beginning to calm down. She grasped his hands, feeling no anger toward him even though she knew he had been the one who told Vegeta about the microchip. He had probably been trying wedge a block between her and the prince out of spite and anger. She knew she should have felt betrayed and even infuriated that her father had stuck his nose into their business, she wasn’t. The old man appeared so feeble, so vulnerable; she didn’t want anyone else to get hurt by her careless actions. She hugged the old man, feeling him tremble against her. She rubbed his back and fought off the tears that desperately wanted to fall.
“I told…I told him that I had recreated the remote,” Dr. Briefs stammered, his breath gasping in his daughter’s ear. “I told him that I thought it would help heal him if we kept his powers subdued. But he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t believe me. I let it slip that you had actually redesigned the remote to trap his powers.” His hot tears dampened the sleeve of Bulma’s shirt. “I didn’t want to drag you into this, daughter. I never wanted this…I didn’t…”
He began to sob again and Bulma pulled away, bringing him some fresh tissues.
“All we need to focus on is bringing him back,” she said. “Do you know where he went?”
The exhausted man shook his head as a fresh wave of tears fell. “All I know is he had me recreate Skip’s remote exactly how it was. He—he even made me test it!”
Bulma’s hand fisted over her heart as she pictured the horror of the entire situation. She could feel both her father’s and Vegeta’s pain. Her desperation to find the prince was getting even stronger.
“I begged him not to go, Bulma.” Dr. Briefs’s watery blue eyes stared up at hers. “I’m so sorry.”
She hugged him again. He didn’t need to say anymore. They had both screwed up. Bulma couldn’t fully blame her father, as she had followed along with his plan from the beginning. They had trapped Vegeta, betrayed him. She would fix it this time.
“I’m calling Goku and then I’ll take the hover-jet to try and find Vegeta,” Bulma explained, transforming into her mechanical, auto-pilot persona. “Dad, you stay here and rest.” She gazed over her shoulder at a police officer who was interviewing the remaining people in the labs. “I don’t know what you’ve told the cops so far,” she murmured, “but try to keep it away from Vegeta and Skip as much as possible.”
The old man nodded and his tired eyes watched as his daughter jogged from the chaotic scene. She was holding it together, but the wise scientist knew that the strong girl was about to reach her breaking point.
……………
Goku was already on his way toward Vegeta’s energy, Bulma found out as she rapidly spoke to Chi-Chi over the phone. The blue-haired scientist nodded and quickly pulled out a pack of capsules, preparing to launch her hover jet into the yard as she switched her cell phone to her other ear. She could hear her friend speaking to another person in the background and Bulma was surprised to hear Gohan’s young voice enter the conversation. Bulma could tell the warrior was tense as he spoke tersely over his mother’s inquiring voice and the worried woman grew even more anxious as the six-year-old told her what he and his father had sensed.
“Vegeta’s power was strong,” Gohan admitted. He was far too serious for his age. “Then his energy dropped off. I can’t even feel him. Dad and Piccolo took off the moment they felt his rage earlier.”
Bulma’s stomach dropped and she pitched a capsule onto the grass, shielding her eyes from the yellow fumes as her beloved hover-jet stood ready. She knew what Skip’s original remote-control could do. She prayed that Vegeta wasn’t truly considering using it.
“The last time you sensed his energy; where was he?”
The voice on the other end hesitated and Bulma knew the young fighter hadn’t been able to track him. “Within West City, I think. His power exploded, we felt him take flight, and within a minute he masked his energy.”
Or he used that torture device and…
Bulma shook her head. She refused to think about that. But if she was talking to Gohan, it meant that Goku and Piccolo probably feared the worst, as well, and forced the helpful boy to stay home. If Goku was nervous…
“Thanks, Gohan,” Bulma said.
“No problem,” he replied softly. “Everything will be ok.”
She didn’t know how a child of six could calm her so well, but his words gave her hope. Hopping into her plane, Bulma started the engine and the little craft took to the air. Her large, blue eyes gazed down at the ambulances that were finally leaving the employee sector of the company. The sun was setting and the temperature was dropping. In the distance, dark clouds were beginning to form. Bulma wondered how a blissful, revealing day had come to a crashing halt so quickly.
………….
Yamcha was terrified: terrified that he knew where the prince was and terrified of what he would find.
The scar-faced man had left Capsule Corp. only an hour ago, feeling the first fleeting signs of happiness in a long time. Bulma had cheated on him. Had it been under any other circumstance, his heart probably would have ripped in half right there. Deep within him, he felt the anger and resentment toward the fact…and that was what made him so relieved. This was the kind of pain he needed. Betrayed, tossed aside, used and forgotten, Yamcha slowly felt his guilt subside slightly. And according to Bulma, Vegeta was moving forward; healing, content. It brought Yamcha a necessary kind of closure to the horrors of what had happened a week ago.
So when he felt the saiyajin’s energy explode and sensed the unfathomable rage that accompanied it, Yamcha almost passed out from the pure terror he felt. The black-haired human had had one foot inside his small hotel room when the blast rattled his senses. He had never felt such fury and Vegeta’s rage projected throughout the air, the violent streams of power vibrating within his mind like a million shrill violin strings about to tear.
He panicked, wondering what had triggered the mercurial warrior so terribly, but his mind went blank as the energy lifted from its spot at Capsule Corp. and headed toward him. Yamcha remained frozen in his doorway, unable to move as Vegeta’s spiking aura drew closer…before suddenly spiraling sharply and disappearing.
Yamcha wanted to believe that his first instinct was to go to Capsule Corp. to make sure everything was ok, but that would have been a lie. He focused solely on Vegeta’s energy, a line of sweat running down the side of his face as he could only pick up on a small flutter of power somewhere near the edge of the city. He gulped and slowly closed his door, pocketing his key card as his black eyes grew glassy from staring into the darkening sky. His heart pounded loudly in his ears and he realized he had been holding his breath. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he felt something deep within his heart telling him that Vegeta was in trouble. Yamcha knew exactly where the tormented prince had landed.
As he flew over the busy downtown of West City, Yamcha felt a spark of energy from Goku and Piccolo. The other warriors of Earth were much further away, but he could tell that Vegeta’s wicked energy-spike had drawn their attention. He frowned and sped up, desperate to speak to the prince before any of the others arrived, though his fear grew the closer he came to the location of his recent nightmares. His dark eyes landed on the angelic fountain that seemed to guard the large forest covering the entire eastern peninsula of the Western Capital. His stomach twisted violently and he wondered if he might be sick as his pace slowed.
Gliding through the trees, Yamcha’s eyes adjusted to the failing light and he began to tremble terribly as he followed the familiar pathway he had walked along with Skip only days earlier. He looked away from the steep, rocky cliff where Skip had plunged to his death. A shocking image of Vegeta’s bloodied body sailing from the edge entered Yamcha’s mind and he let out a choked cry, grabbing the sides of his skull as he remembered the saiyajin’s blood splattering onto his face as he failed to save him.
Collapsing onto the ground, Yamcha hugged himself and shivered as the wind began to blow, sending fall leaves fluttering past his scarred face. He was breathing harshly, too afraid to open his eyes lest he see Skip’s rotten corpse at the bottom of the steep plummet. Yet the voice that coldly spoke to him made the human snap to attention as he quickly realized that he had somehow made it to the pile of wood that was once a cabin. He remained on his knees, wrapping his arms around his sides as he stared at the darkly dressed prince who casually sat upon the plaster and planks that had been Skip’s hideaway home.
“Won’t speak to me? Rude.”
Yamcha could only stare at the alien, suddenly feeling quite afraid of the shadowed face peering at him from the wreckage.
“I asked what you were doing here.”
Gathering his nerve to talk, Yamcha finally stood and faced the prince.
“I felt your energy, Vegeta. I came to make sure you were alright.”
The cold eyes continued to stare forward, unblinking even in the cold wind. Vegeta was sitting upon the dilapidated ruins of the cabin as if it was his throne, arms resting on protruding slabs of wood, his legs spread out before him as he lounged back in his makeshift seat. Yamcha could see the insanity in his eyes, the unhinged cruelty he had only heard about from Krillin and Gohan. Yamcha had not seen the saiyajin’s true diabolical ways. He had died early in the battle against Nappa and Vegeta before he had a chance to see how sick the prince could be. But Yamcha knew it was there. He had witnessed Vegeta’s undying arrogance and pride even in the face of absolute horror and torture. He slowly realized that perhaps he had made a mistake entering the forest.
“I’m fine,” Vegeta’s blank voice responded, his wrist flicking with agitation. “What would make you think I wasn’t?”
Yamcha knew the man was toying with him, but he felt too frightened to get smart with the volatile warrior. Something was definitely wrong with Vegeta. The fearful human lifted his hands up in a gesture of peace and took two steps forward. The dry, cold ground around his feet burst with sharp rays of ki and he immediately backed away.
“You come near me and the next shot’s in your fucking head.”
The macabre creature’s face remained somewhat obscured by the darkening light of the forest, his usually tan skin striped with the claw-like shadows of the naked trees surrounding them. But even in the dim, haunting environment, Yamcha could see the glittering, animalistic eyes glaring at him from within the darkness.
Yamcha was becoming more confused. Bulma had told him that day that she and Vegeta had slept together and the prince was happy. He had apparently started to recover from the tortures inflicted upon him. Yamcha could not comprehend the sudden madness that had gripped the saiyajin prince.
“What happened to you, Vegeta?” Yamcha asked gently. “I thought you had gotten your powers back. I thought you and Bulma made a step forward together.”
The gloved hands tightened around the splintered wood under his fingers and Vegeta’s mouth twitched wildly before cracking into a crazed sneer. His body swelled and he shook with barely contained rage.
“You humans and your deceitful ways,” he hissed. “Don’t act like you didn’t know what was happening, you sick fuck! You were probably waiting for the right moment to take me down. You and that lying whore and her traitorous filth of a father. You were all in on it from the start; all joining in on the fun with Skip and friends.”
Yamcha’s mouth fell open from the pure venom that dripped from Vegeta’s words. His voice had taken on a high-pitched snarl, the growling threats reminiscent of his earlier days of madness.
“Vegeta, what--”
A hard body tackled him to the ground and Yamcha screamed as ki-lit fists plowed into his face repeatedly. The saiyajin sputtered incoherently as he struck the human, his gloved fists becoming stained with red blood. Yamcha tried to shield his face, but his hands were knocked away. His world spun as the incredibly powerful warrior punched him again and again before tightening his fingers around his throat. Yamcha’s mouth fell open and he tried to gasp for air, but the saiyajin prince was choking the life from him. Unbreakable fingers dug into his muscled neck and Yamcha kicked and bucked, trying desperately to rid himself of the deranged alien, but he could see the madness in Vegeta’s eyes. He knew that the saiyajin was not there anymore. His black eyes were glaring down at him blindly, a wicked smile stretched across his face as he was finally killing one of his tormentors.
Yamcha’s vision blurred and the glinting teeth of his killer faded in and out of sight. Knowing he could not fight back against the saiyajin’s strength, the human allowed his body to relax and he welcomed the blackness that would claim him. Whatever Bulma had believed was incorrect. Vegeta wasn’t better. Yamcha’s guilt still remained. And if this was his just punishment, so be it.
Yamcha came to, choking and gasping for air as his windpipe was freed of the indestructible hold. Hands urgently rolled him onto his side as he spat and hacked, sucking in precious air as his lungs burned. A few feet away he could hear yelling and snarling rage. The darkened forest was flickering with a gorgeous violet light as Vegeta’s blue aura shoved against Goku’s red.
“Look, calm down!” Goku’s voice echoed throughout the chilled land. “What is this all about?”
Yamcha sat up, shielding his watering eyes as Krillin knelt at his side, one hand supporting his back. The scar-faced human watched in fear as the saiyajin prince shook violently, his powers completely out of control as he glared at his rival with outright hatred. Yamcha could see that the flame-haired alien was out of sorts, his irises almost invisible as his energy quaked and lurched within him. Certainly Goku had to sense it, as well.
The short warrior rushed forward again, striking at Goku with explosive energy. His teeth were clenched so hard Yamcha was sure the saiyajin’s jaw would snap. Piccolo, Tien, and Krillin gasped in surprise as the prince landed some solid hits, forcing their kind-hearted friend back as he tried to shield his face and body from the gloved fists slamming into his skin and muscles. They all knew that Goku overpowered Vegeta dramatically, but the innocent fighter refused to hurt the deranged soldier, obviously sensing that something was terribly wrong.
Piccolo and Tien, however, couldn’t care less about Vegeta’s well-being at the moment. They joined the fray, punching at the wild saiyajin’s head and back as he growled and roared with fury. Yamcha and Krillin watched with open mouths as Vegeta simply ignored the harsh attacks, his mind clearly not in the present. With a howling scream, Vegeta brought his hands to his chest and then shoved his arms outward, sending Piccolo and Tien spiraling into the trees with the force of his energy-expulsion. But the blast of wasted ki was taxing and Vegeta’s blue energy flickered and faded slightly. Goku accepted the opening and launched forward, his black hair sparking momentarily with stripes of gold as he charged the disturbed fighter, his large fist slamming into the prince’s face with a sickening crunch. Yamcha cringed as Vegeta’s small form sailed into the wreckage of the cabin, his body tumbling over the mound of plaster and wood before finally rolling to a stop just outside a line of towering trees.
Goku glanced at his upraised fist, eyeing the dark blood along his knuckles, before leaping across the wooden disaster. The other Z-warriors glanced at each other and moved forward with much reluctance, not wanting to be anywhere near the saiyajin prince when he awoke. Yamcha’s stomach twisted with nausea as he grew closer to Vegeta’s still form, his dark eyes landing on the deep cuts in his blue training uniform. Clad in a baggier pair of pants than he usually wore and a tight, sleeveless shirt, Vegeta appeared so small, his broken body lying defenselessly on the cold ground.
“What happened, Yamcha?” Piccolo asked darkly. “What caused him to snap?”
The scarred fighter shook his head slowly, completely confused by the entire situation. He rubbed his neck, wincing as his fingers traced the dark bruises around his throat.
“I don’t know. Bulma said he was doing great. He just got all his powers back today and--”
“Today?” Goku snapped.
The other fighters stared at the troubled warrior, seeing the concerned expression upon his face. Goku knelt beside the fallen warrior, placing a hand on his side and shaking him gently.
“I talked to Bulma this morning,” Krillin added. “She said that Vegeta was handling everything alright, but I wonder if it all came to a boiling point when his powers returned. When I visited Capsule Corp., everything seemed normal…besides Vegeta not being back to full power, which I also found strange.”
“Why would it have taken so long for his energy to come back?” the third-class saiyajin wondered aloud. “I thought his ki felt weird—shaky, as if he didn’t have complete control over it.”
“Of course he didn’t have control over it!” Tien barked. “He’s been out of control since he stepped foot on Earth.”
Goku quickly looked up at the three-eyed fighter angrily, but the pained moan that escaped Vegeta brought his attention back to the problem at hand. The prince’s dark eyebrows drew together as he began to rouse, the blood on his face staining the solid dirt as he twitched in agony.
“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, restrain him or something?” Krillin asked nervously, slowly creeping his way behind Piccolo’s powerful form.
“Absolutely not,” Yamcha growled.
“Perhaps you should get back,” Piccolo warned. “It seems your presence agitates him.”
Yamcha glanced at the large, green alien and bowed his head in submission. He stepped out of the circle, trying to conceal himself in the shadows of the trees.
Vegeta moaned again and his hands moved, pushing slowly against the ground as he sat up clumsily, his eyes still squeezed shut in pain. Goku placed a calming hand against the prince’s skull, as if giving Vegeta a reminder of the small battle that had just occurred. The injured fighter stilled at the touch and he slowly opened his eyes, rolling them toward the orange-clad warrior kneeling beside him. Vegeta blinked as he gazed at his rival’s knees, his actions sluggish as he tried to piece together what had happened. One gloved hand trailed along his hip, massaging the pained spot, though Piccolo thought it appeared as if he was checking for something. Vegeta seemed to nod to himself before glaring hatefully at Goku.
“Vegeta, what happened?” the concerned warrior asked, ignoring the blatant animosity within the prince’s eyes. “Yamcha tells us you just got your powers back today.”
With impressive speed, the saiyajin prince stood and trudged toward the tree-line, his bare shoulder pressing against the cold bark of a large oak as he ignored the presence of the other warriors. Goku stood, as well, and peered at Yamcha who was staring at the prince’s strong back. No one seemed to know what was happening.
“Vegeta,” Goku said softly, “maybe you should head back to Capsule Corp. Bulma’s probably-”
The prince whirled around, the same crazed anger burning in his eyes again. “Don’t you ever mention that whore in my presence again! I will never return to that prison!”
Yamcha frowned and he glanced at the others. They stood with identical expressions of shock.
“But, Vegeta,” Yamcha murmured, “according to Bulma, you two…”
The nervous man missed the curious exchanges between Goku and Piccolo and he let the words hang. Vegeta stood a few feet from the earth warriors, but his posture spoke a thousand words and he remained guarded.
“Anything that woman says is a lie. Her father is a liar and so are all of you.”
“Oh? About what?” Tien spat.
“I don’t answer to cowards like you,” Vegeta growled. “I don’t owe any explanations to humans. Besides, don’t pretend like you didn’t know.”
Yamcha stepped forward, desperately wanting to know what the tormented creature was talking about. “You keep saying that, Vegeta, but we honestly don’t know what happened at Capsule Corp.”
“The microchip, you stupid fuck!” the saiyajin roared. His energy sparked around him and the earthlings crouched in defense. Vegeta made no move toward them, though. “You stood by and allowed that blue-haired bitch and her father to subdue my energy with that—that horrid invention!”
Yamcha’s mouth ran dry and he took a staggering step back. Immediately his thoughts were flooded with images of Vegeta screaming; frothing at the mouth as blood seeped from his ears and nose from the rolling waves of electricity that charred his insides. Skip’s grinning, devilish face hovered above him, a remote in his small hand as he continued to press the button that controlled the seemingly insignificant microchip embedded in the prince’s stomach.
“Dr. Briefs mentioned the microchip,” Goku said cautiously. “He said it was removed.”
“Well, he lied.”
“It doesn’t seem to be an issue now,” Tien butt-in. “Your power is back and it’s obviously not causing you any problems.”
The saiyajin strode forward, an energy ball already glowing in the palm of his hand. Goku leapt in front of the charging madman and waved his hands wildly.
“Whoooaaaaa!” Goku cried. “Tien, just…take a step back for a sec.” He turned to Vegeta, a serious expression on his usually smiling face. “Are you saying that chip is still inside you and Dr. Briefs was controlling your energy?”
“Kakarot…I’m done explaining this,” Vegeta said flatly. He turned away from the small group and found his tree once again, giving them his back. “I already told the old man I won’t be seeking revenge against him. He still has the remote that can block my power. He and his vile daughter have been using it since I was…found…a week ago. They can use it any time they wish.”
“But that remote…” Yamcha trailed off, entirely confused by what the prince was saying. “That remote triggers the microchip.”
“The Capsule Corp. whore redesigned it—made a new one. They used it as a leash to keep my powers in check.”
Goku gasped, his eyes falling to the ground at the words. He could hardly believe that one of his closest friends would ever do such a thing, yet Vegeta would never admit to something so humiliating and degrading if it wasn’t true. Anger burned within Goku’s chest as his faith in humanity took another blow. A leash, Vegeta said. Bulma and her father went out of their way to trap the prince’s energy inside of him, making him helpless to a planet that had abused him so terribly.
“Vegeta, you can’t stay here,” Goku said. “It’s going to rain tonight and then a cold front is moving in.”
The prince remained silent, his back to the group as he leaned against the tree, arms folded and ankles crossed. His head was lowered and his energy told of the angst he felt.
“He can’t go back to Capsule Corp.,” Yamcha explained quietly. “I’m sure you guys felt his energy earlier. There’s probably severe damage done to the structure of that building.”
“Plus, we can’t trust him to be anywhere near the Briefs,” Tien added. “Even though he says he won’t hurt them, we cannot believe him.”
“After you’re all done deciding my future, let me know,” Vegeta grumbled. “I have better things to do.”
Piccolo’s face darkened and he took a step forward, not missing the tension growing in the saiyajin’s casual stance. The arrogant prince refused to look at him, but Piccolo could see that Vegeta understood he was outnumbered.
“While I am sickened by the way you have been treated, Vegeta, we can’t let you roam the planet now that you have posed such a threat.”
“Piccolo!” Goku admonished. “It was just a scuffle. Vegeta won’t-”
“A scuffle that damn near wiped out Tien and me.” Piccolo turned his attention back to the rigid saiyajin. “What happens when we leave here, Vegeta? You go around the planet killing earthlings until you find the ones who tortured you?” The prince’s shoulders jerked and his arms tightened across his chest. Piccolo continued. “What if you achieve super saiyajin and actually manage to triumph over Goku? You have the perfect motive to destroy the planet once and for all. If we leave you here, nothing will be solved. I’m sorry, but you will have to remain with one of us.”
The wind howled through the trees, sweeping the dry leaves across the hard dirt. Small droplets of rain began to fall and Vegeta slowly turned around, a terrifyingly haunted shadow in his eyes.
“You know about the humans who did this to me?”
Piccolo gave a curt nod and Goku took a step forward, his dark eyes downcast and filled with grief.
“We all know the pain and humiliation you went through. Let us help you.”
Vegeta’s shadowed face looked ghostly pale, but he did not move or fall victim to an explosion of rage. Instead, his energy seemed to drop and he looked completely lost. He had no idea that everyone had been privy to his rape and absolute degradation. Numbness took hold of his body and soul and he rocked on his feet unsteadily.
“And now I need to remain under your constant watch,” Vegeta confirmed in a lifeless voice. “Forever in one’s control.”
“It’s not like that, Vegeta,” Goku pleaded. He opened his mouth to continue, but the prince snapped to attention, his eyes a bit more lively.
“Go make your decision then,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll give you one minute to decide who gets to keep me as their pet.”
Goku took another step forward, but Piccolo held out a clawed hand, blocking his ally’s path.
“What do you mean by that, Vegeta?”
“I mean, go decide in private where you want to keep me. Go chat amongst yourselves.” His black eyes slowly slid over to where Yamcha was standing, a calm, resolute look on his face. “One minute is all it will take.”
With that, the prince walked back to the black shadows of the trees, his body disappearing into the nightly forest. The earth warriors could still sense his ki and Vegeta knew they would be on him in seconds if he flew off. The saiyajin prince, however, wasn’t planning on running. He glared through the opening of the woods and watched as the confused fighters circled around the back of the dilapidated cabin to converse. Vegeta felt his throat tighten and he pursed his lips, trying to subdue the anguish that was screaming deep within him. His gray, CC glove slid into the pocket of the snug pants he wore and he pulled out the familiar gray remote, a shuddering breath escaping him as he slowly trailed a finger along the dial on the edge, clicking the settings from the one to five.
He was shivering, but not because of the icy rain that sprinkled through the trees. He remembered the agony that Skip’s horrible creation would deliver. On level five, the microchip inside of him would fire his own energy throughout his body, collecting every last shred of his ki to incinerate his organs from the inside out. And with the amount of power the saiyajin held, he would be finished in one minute: free of planet Earth, free of people trying to control him, and free of his humiliation and suffering.
“I don’t know, this is weird,” Krillin whispered as he stood among the tall warriors.
He glanced around the hideous pile of wood where he and Tien had found the two strange men about to shoot Yamcha in the head several days ago. It had become nighttime quickly, the sky completely black as dark clouds spilled cold water onto them. The bald human could sense Vegeta standing within the shadows and he felt a chill run along his spine. Something was not right. His eyes followed a trail of clumsy shoeprints leading from the destroyed house and he shook his head, peering up at the serious expressions of his friends.
“I may not know Vegeta well, but he was hiding something.”
“Agreed,” Tien said quickly. “I think we should investigate this remote Bulma and her dad made to see how it’s used to block-”
“No, Tien!” Yamcha yelled. He glared at the giant man angrily, his fists clenched. “That’s the whole problem. Vegeta was treated like a dangerous criminal and held captive by Bulma—someone he trusted greatly.”
The three-eyed fighter scowled and turned away, pacing in annoyance.
“I think the best option is to have him stay at my house,” Goku said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Vegeta may hate me, but I would love it if I could spar with him whenever we wanted!”
“No matter what happens, he will always feel like a prisoner,” Piccolo explained. “He has spent his entire life under the watchful eyes of someone stronger than him. Unfortunately, the people at Capsule Corporation failed in helping him. If Vegeta can’t trust us, then he will betray us at some point.”
“Now that’s not-”
Goku was interrupted by the ringing cell phone in Yamcha’s pocket. Startled, the scar-faced warrior pulled out the small device and took a deep breath.
“It’s Bulma.”
“Why didn’t you call her in the first place?” Krillin cried.
Yamcha accepted the call and shrugged casually. “We broke up today.”
The warriors, except for Piccolo, flinched in surprise. Bulma had “broken up” with Yamcha many times before. It usually resulted in the man sobbing into Krillin’s couch, drinking himself stupid, and cursing the gods dramatically for days. His lack of emotion was unsettling.
Before the man could speak, Bulma’s screeching voice vibrated through the air, causing Yamcha to pull the phone away from his ear.
“—called you twice already! Why weren’t you picking up?”
“Bulma, what happened? Vegeta’s a mess and-”
There was a panicked scream on the other end and Yamcha gave his friends a worried look. “Where is Vegeta? Are you with him?”
“Yes. He’s off by himself right now, but Goku, Piccolo, Tien, Krillin, and I are discussing what to do. Vegeta says-”
Bulma began speaking rapidly, her shrill tones causing the phone to crackle loudly. Yamcha’s face twitched as he tried to follow what the woman was saying, but she seemed to be sobbing suddenly as she spoke.
“Calm down—I can’t follow you. What?”
“—made him create another remote. Skip’s remote—the same, exact one! He has it on him now. He held the scientists hostage and made my dad replicate the fucking remote. Vegeta has it! The real one!!”
Time seemed to stand still as the phone dropped from Yamcha’s hand. He turned too slowly, his senses freezing-up just as they had when he was at the bottom of the cliff, realizing what was about to happen to Vegeta. All too late. He hadn’t been fast enough…and it was happening again.
They all felt it: the snapping of Vegeta’s power, as if sucked into a black hole and then catapulted violently throughout his body. They jerked in surprise and Goku disappeared from the scene, rushing to the prince’s aid. Yamcha clutched his head, screaming as terror gripped him. He fell to his knees, the flashbacks of the nightmare causing him to almost blackout as he felt Vegeta’s burning power electrocute his organs and boil the blood in his veins. A voice was calling to him in a panic, but Yamcha couldn’t move. All he could hear was the tortured saiyajin’s voice screaming in agony inside his head, the prince’s dying gasps pulling him further into the horrendous nightmares that plagued him every day.
Krillin was torn. He wanted to help his fallen friend, but his senses could clearly detect the tremendous, horrifying ki that ripped through Vegeta’s body. It was as if every molecule within the prince had collected together into one spot and then exploded outward. The bald fighter paled as he could feel Vegeta’s body breaking down, the disgusting smell of charred flesh wafting through the windy air as a body became illuminated in hideous, purple flames deep within the woods.
Krillin gagged and looked away, knowing that the flailing, shrieking body belonged to the same proud warrior who had been standing before them only minutes earlier. He stood and glanced at Tien, observing the way the three-eyed man could only stare in absolute shock, his mouth hanging open at the nightmare in woods. As the shorter warrior took a step forward to help, the awful torture came to an end. Krillin’s stomach sank and he flew over to where Goku and Piccolo stood, surrounding the choking and gurgling being on the rain-soaked ground.
Goku held a gray remote in his hand and shattered it in his shaking fist. Falling to his knees and gathering the slightly steaming, bloodstained prince into his arms, the powerful fighter listened to the watery, gasping breaths of the dying saiyajin for only a second before standing silently. Krillin had a sudden flash of his best friend holding Vegeta in a similar fashion on planet Namek and the bald human had to look away, his eyes burning suddenly.
Goku was about to I.T. himself and the broken prince to Capsule Corp. when the sound of Bulma’s hover-jet made him hesitate. Before the machine even landed, the blue-haired woman leapt from the yellow vehicle, stumbling slightly as her feet hit the ground, and sprinted toward Goku. Her eyes were already streaming with tears and the rain made her mascara run down her cheeks.
“There’s one senzu left!” she cried, already knowing what Vegeta had done. “It should be in the same medical room as before. Goku, please!”
She collapsed into the mud at the saiyajin’s feet. Her tear-streaked face looked up at him and Bulma let out a pathetic sob as Goku stared coldly down at her. His gaze was intense and Bulma could see the fury burning in the kind-hearted warrior’s black eyes. Without saying a word, Goku let the woman know how furious he was with her and her father. She cried harder and sank into the growing puddle around her knees.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
But Goku was already gone.
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Resolution on a Lonely Planet