Dame-nation

S/D: In all the riches of all the lands, why would I claim the rights to a cartoon that can’t manage to destroy evil in less than fifty episodes? Oh yeah… Gogeta.

A/N: Third installment. This one’s for Barb. Whether you read it or not, I love you!

Dame-nation

Bulma and I had housed up in some shady places.

Sometimes it was a hotel room with nude photos on the wall from the last visitor. Sometimes there were guns under the bed. Sometimes the water didn’t even trickle from the faucet.

The wallpaper was peeling from the walls in this place. I think it was the stench that did it.

She was looking like a beached whale as she lay out on the motel bed, her hands sliding up and down her stomach, eyes filled with that distant quality of a seer. Behind her, aqua locks trickled from her temples and scalp, pouring over her shoulders and bubbling over the curved pillow. To me, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful.

I sat up in my chair, hands gripping the steel chamber of my weapon like a lifeline. “We can’t stay here anymore.” My fingers stroked the cool metal almost affectionately; a revered awe of fear. It had saved us more than once.

Crystalline gems of sapphire hardened into blue diamonds as her glare rested on me. I know she hates the constant running. Shouts and scuffling echoed in the wasteland behind the door. Her argument died on her tight lips.

I tossed her a look. Scrambling, she made for the bathroom, knowing the bathtub would be the safest place were Hell to break loose.

I pressed against the wall at the side of the door.

Shadows of shoes filled the small crack beneath the door. They lingered, quiet voices whispering. The handle turned, rattling as the locking mechanism stopped the intruder. A crude curse slipped from their mouths.

They were going to bust down the door.

The exits were being guarded. I could hear the cold tapping click of shoes on the fire escape just outside the only window of this dump.

They were coming.

I reached into my jacket and pulled my backup piece. The .50 caliber looked like a snarling cat itching for a bloody mouthful.

Shoving from the wall I faced the door and waited, both of my guns aimed and ready.

A carefully placed kick buckled the door in an instant. Men poured in through the broken door, filling the frame. Fragments burst inward as I unloaded, lodging lead in several soft bodies.

The echoing groans and thumps sent the feet outside to the window in a hurry.

Bullets screamed. Glass shattered, the bed nearly jumping as it was torn to shreds, the walls groaning as the wood splintered and fragmented.

I turned, the roar of my weapons filling my ears like quiet atom bombs. My assailants shuddered, twitched and fell, tumbling backward from the narrow ledge and toppling to the unforgiving ground below.

Bodies surrounded me.

My clip dropped from my handgun and I slid another one in. I spun the barrel of my Magnum. I needed ammo.

Debris littered the pile of blue hair that stuck up above the rim of the bathtub. She coughed, her hand cupped over her mouth as she tried to keep some semblance of silence. It didn’t matter. They were all dead or dying; a foot twitched here and blood sluicing there.

Lifting herself from the tub she turned immediately to the toilet and vomited. Her body convulsed, muscles tightening and heaving as she emptied her stomach.

I winced.

We left without words. She hardly made a face while tiptoeing through the crimson stains that crawled across the wood floor. I offered her my hand to lift her over the bodies. Her head inclined almost regally before she acquiesced and allowed me to carry her. Perhaps she didn’t want to be held by a killer.

I felt cold; colder than the bodies we left to chill in the snow.
.
.
.
“I’m not running anymore.”

I turned to face her, sizing up the solemn woman before me.

Her jaw was set, molars grinding, the muscle twitching clearly across her pretty face. Blue lapis clouded her eyes, veins of a blue so deep it was nearly black threading the stone, darkened by the dancing shadows of death and decay.

“We have to.” I didn’t think another explanation was needed. If we stopped moving, they’d corner us.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“I won’t.” Her small hands balled up at her sides, fisting in the torn remains of her once elegant dress.

“You won’t,” I echoed, lifting my face skyward. Gods above, save me from this woman.

“Vegeta, we can hide!”

“Woman, what in name of Guru’s asshole do you think we’ve been doing? Playing tag?”

“My parents own some land north of here. We could live there for a while and escape from everything! There’s a house we can live in together! Please, Vegeta. I don’t want anyone else to die.” Her voice became strangled, tears cascading down cool cheeks of alabaster. “Please, Vegeta. Can’t we get away?”

She was crying again. I stiffened, torn between the want to provide her every whim, to bow before her as the goddess she is, and the surging need to protect what is now mine. I couldn’t do both at once.

“Vegeta, let’s run and hide. We can disappear from here and never come back. We can raise our child away from all of this.” She gripped me with the desperation of a starving woman. “We can leave!”

Was it so simple in her eyes? Her hands were not stained. Her heart wasn’t heavy. Of course it was that simple. So was my answer.

“Let’s get a taxi.”
.
.
.
They say every real relationship’s a two way road.

This was a one way ticket straight down the highway to Hell, if you ask me.

I watched the woman I care for, our child filling her swollen belly, drive away with tears in her eyes.

I made myself wave, convincing myself that I would see her again; at least one more time before I died.

Hours later I had yet to move from my seat, the dingy bed warmed and molded to my posterior. I felt alone; almost …abandoned. Yet I was the one who did the pushing. I pushed her away to save her. I only had myself to blame.

She was silly to think Freiza’s men wouldn’t find us. They have eyes all over this planet, under every rock and in every sinking hole that dimpled the greenish terrain flecked with patches of white snow.

They would find us and kill us. Kill us quick and clean if we were lucky.

They would come after us and I would fight. I will fight until they kill me. It didn’t end until one of us was dead.

I had to stop the pain. I would do anything and everything to protect her from those bastards. I’d kill, I’d hunt, I’d maim. I’d destroy Frieza with my bare hands and smile as the life faded from his bulbous body. I’d do anything to protect my beautiful Bulma.

My hand came to my heart, the heavy weight of my badge protecting the soft tissues of my life beyond. It pressed flush to my chest, feeling as much like the cold steel it was made of and yet of the protection it ceased to stand for. It was my vest, my Teflon, my shield, my ward. It was a reminder of my past that would not go away.

My hand tightened around the edges of the emblem, wrinkling my coat and shirt as the tips of my fingers dug into the skin. It was my security.

And I was Bulma’s. She was depending on me. She trusts me to make things right, to end the war of all wars and become the man I’m supposed to be for her. I was to break down doors and destroy the filth that filled the streets. I was to sweep away the decay and cretins and villains and the thieves with a mighty axe of justice.

Or at least just wipe out the single largest mafia in the known universe.

My job was sounding easier by the minute.

Holstering my pieces I strode forth, my sense of duty renewed. I would kill all those who dare to stand in my way. I will make my world safe for my child… and the mother of my child.

I hand put my hand on the door handle of my car when I noticed something was wrong. I noticed a second too late.

It felt like my head exploded. Lights, brightly vivid, danced psychedelic spirals and dizzy cobwebs through my brain, sparking electrical pulses and currents over my grey matter like lightning.

I awoke, colored dots pouring through my vision, obscuring the wide, hulking squat man with a mouth that split across his discolored green face. His boiling pot of features reminded me of the fish they packaged in frozen blue boxes. His eyeballs were on either side of his head; round protrusions with distinct yellow tingeing.

The smoldering remains of my car smoked and stunk of burning rubber and leather. I squinted, patted out the residual flames on my jacket and made for my feet.

It was time to repay the man who blew up my retirement penchant.
.
.
.
Things were always exploding here. In fact, it had become so common, Bardock didn’t even bat a lash when something turned inside out involuntarily just beyond the double paned glass door of his new favorite coffee joint.

His big hands enclosed upon his coffee mug, allowing the heat to seep through the ceramic and into the meat of his fingers and palms.

He knew why things were exploding. He knew before he sold his hide and his services and now felt even less comfort as his suspicions were waylaid.

His shoulders sank. He felt …responsible? No. Not responsible. It’s not his fault some chump messed with forces greater than him.

Perhaps he was …concerned. No, it wasn’t his problem. He had a laundry list a mile high of his own shit, he wasn’t about to add on some poor sap’s crap on top of his shoulders. Just put if out of your head. It doesn’t bother you when you don’t think about it.

His coffee was stale. It was always stale. He didn’t care. He wasn’t here for a hot cup or even a caffeine fix. The food here was as equally awe-inspiring. No, Bardock came here to watch her; the lovely brunette that had occupied his dreams, fantasies and had consumed his every waking attention.

She started out as just another photo sprawled out on his desk; another attorney that got too close and knew too much. He had her file, her psychoanalytical analysis, her habits, even a list of her previous boyfriends and their addresses. The location of her parents, her home, her friends, was all there.

He knew her favorite restaurants, where she liked to shop and her jogging route. He knew what movies she’d seen, rented and the library books she had borrowed. Her life, every scrap recorded on leaflet paper, was in his hands.

He heaved a sigh, causing a tingle to run through the wires of his jaw. He felt it down to his toes. It caused a shudder to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

He was to make sure she didn’t make a run for the border or squeal like a stuck pig. He was to call his employers should he need to take action. But his job had turned into his obsession. He took a leave of absence from the force, his waking hours devoted to watching – no, protecting – the lady.

He couldn’t explain it. He felt compelled, obligated, required to be at her side at all times. He desperately wanted to ensure her safety and even her happiness. He realized fully that his behavior was irrational. Yet, he didn’t care one way or another. He would protect her in any fashion. As long as he was there, he didn’t worry.

Well, he didn’t worry as much.

Should his employer decide that she should be eradicated prematurely whether through her own action or lack thereof, there would be little he could do to protect her.

Her peels of laughter were music to his ears. Each sounded like twinkling bells, the Heavens attuned to such a sound. The sun filled up the window behind her, its glorious rays shrouding her in loveliness. She was glowing, her hair swept up into a halo of gold and auburn, her smile radiant. She was a fallen angel, surely, for no mere mortal could melt a heart of lead with just a glance.

Bardock released another sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. Sparks of electricity scattered down his spine and across his jaw making the hair on his arms stand straight up.

Yes. He must protect her, no matter the cost. No one would harm his precious angel, his beautiful lady.

She laid a hand upon his arm, setting the flesh afire with a mere touch. “Are you all right, Bardock?” Concern kitted her eyebrows.

“Better than ever. You’re here with me.” And he meant it. His hand settled over hers, light and warm.

She shot him a look of disbelief before shrugging; knowing he would tell her in the right moment what caused shadows to curl over his countenance.

Motioning outside to the curling smoke with a dainty dip of her head, she held herself in her arms. “I hope everything out there’s okay.”

Bardock’s head was like a hunk of lead, a burden and impossible to move. His eyes felt like they weighed tons. But he looked, knowing all too well he shouldn’t have. Why not? Why not look, just once? If he didn’t look, he didn’t have to care…

Bardock’s eyes followed his head, moving only after he could turn no more. His jaw dropped to its given width - due to the pins - allowing his mouth to form a twisted look of abject horror.

“Vegeta,” he whispered.
.
.
.
The man drew a gun. He walked toward me and fired a single shot. It hit me in the shoulder, shoving me back down. The concrete wasn’t forgiving. Every inch of me resonated with the hum of pain. I felt like I’d been hit with a cement mixer, my head crammed up in the fender, the wheels still spinning.

Blood blossomed on my jacket, the wound feeling like fire and agony. A chunk would be missing from my shoulder, no doubt. The asshole was gloating about it, too.

Bloodless lips peeled back from teeth that were stolen from some unfortunate shark. He hissed, apparently pleased about something.

Leaning my head back against the building, I struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the howling discomfort from using my left arm.

“One bomb was all it took. I’m disappointed in you, Vegeta. I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

I shifted, letting my jacket slide open, giving me open access to my shoulder holster.

“Don’t even think about it,” he chortled, pressing the heel of his dress shoe into my shoulder. “I get twice the amount for bringing you in alive.” He twisted his foot, grinning when I winced and shook.

“Now, tell me where you’ve put up your whore and we’ll make this fast. Or I take you to Frieza and we do it his way…”

The words slipped out of his mouth with a detestable sexual tone. His tongue wound behind his narrow teeth, curling like that of a lizard. What the Hell was this guy?

I coughed, fighting off the shock that threatened to slip over me like a cold glove. I looked up at him, pale and sweating, waiting for the chance to rip his balls of and feed them to him. Right now I’d take bleeding on his pretty shoes.

“Guldo,” a voice from the street stole the shorter man’s attention. He turned, aiming his gun at the newcomer. My eyes were level with his unprotected groin. I knew where my fist wanted to go.

“Drop it, Guldo.”

Hey, I know that voice.

A hissing cough that must have been the creature’s laugh shook his body, his heel jamming into my shoulder again and again. I cringed, blackness creeping upon the backs of my eyes, a cool wave climbing over my feet. I must have had a concussion. If only I could just reach my gun… so close, so god damned close!

“You,” he spat the word, “you can’t do anything. Frieza owns you! You interfere and you’ll end up worse off than this piece of shit.” A slobbering sound must have been his wretched tongue sliding along his fishy lips.

“Guess I’ll have to kill him too. Drop the gun before I plug you.”

The creature known as Guldo turned its bulbous head turned back to me. I gave him my best, winning smile. He scowled as much as his lips would allow, his heel renewing the agony. Blackness filled my world. Terror sent icicles of fear through my veins. I jolted awake, renewed in my desire to win, to live.

“If you’re dead, Guldo, I get away. Frieza will think he killed you,” Bardock motioned to my limp form.

“Bastard!” Those razor teeth gnashed, hand raised to take aim and shoot the disembodied voice.

I gathered myself and ignored the fact I’d much rather fall asleep and never wake up. I gripped the steel beneath my left arm and yanked, the barrel turned, and fired. Two more rounds echoed in the air. Only one was mine.

Something heavy and wet was in my lap. Guldo’s lifeless body slumped into mine, his brain scattered upon the concrete sidewalk. Thick fluids were soaked up by my pants and shirt, staining them permanently with death.

“Vegeta.” I heard him calling my name. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

“Vegeta, you have to stay awake. Stay awake, Vegeta!” Hands shook me, slapped my cheeks.

“Damnit, Bardock,” I groaned, slumping. “I wanna take a fucking nap…”

I fell asleep, whether I was supposed to or not wasn’t open for debate. I was out cold.
.
.
.
A/N: Yay for fixedness!