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Mind Rape	By : MutantPoptart Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 18434 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own or intend to profit from any of the themes or characters taken from the Dragonball Z franchise and used in this story.

Chapter List
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The New Mission

Vegeta flew at a pace that didn't nearly lend to the severity of the situation, but he was still recuperating from the chunk of energy he'd lost in his battle against Buu and was having a difficult enough time just managing a hover. On the up side, the sliver of energy required to maintain such a sluggish speed made him virtually impossible to detect, so he was satisfied at least to play it safe.
He flew low, not breaking the tree tops. This made it difficult to keep a direct course but it made him feel secure somehow.
The soft sound of the tree branches whisking past was a comforting third party to him and his thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn't smother the images that flashed behind his eyes at idle moments, and he felt the creeping presence of the dark thing constantly. In the back of his mind, freshly buried, it was slowly and deliberately clawing it's way to the surface to poke its ugly head around at him.
This might have made a lesser man feel helpless to the trauma but Vegeta was well-practiced in the ways of ignoring glaring truths. The weathered Saiyan would do what he'd done under the employment of Frieza. After countless degrading tortures, interrogations and public humiliations, he would store away the aftermath. By now he'd become quite proficient at pushing things to the back of his mind and burying them there. Only years later, after Frieza's demise and after having spent time in the company of the Earthlings, did Vegeta begin to wonder if “burying away” was really what he was doing. When he put away his torment, was it really gone? Or was he taking it into himself and with time, coming more and more into the person it was making him, the person he was today. In reality, was he like Buu, dragging lives away into the caverns of his mind, hiding them there and neglecting them, all the while growing into a darker and more abominable monster? Would Vegeta now absorb this new and terrible offense into himself? And what would it make him next?
The Saiyan felt a disgusted shiver run up his spine at the idea of permanently wearing the shame of what had happened to him in the grove. Could everyone see it on him, like a mark? Or was it more of an accumulation of things, like baggage in a closet, piling up until inevitably crashing down on top of him?
Vegeta was thankfully pulled out of his plummeting thoughts when he saw in the near distance a great red dome poking out from the trees. He was coming up on the former home of Kakarot and where his wife, Chichi, was hopefully residing now. He would have to be quick, he knew. Vegeta wasn't sure if Buu would find reason to come here but he dared not trust to assume anything about the mercurial creature.
He would grab Chichi and leave. There would be time for explanations when they'd reached a secure place.

The cottage was tucked away in the trees as though it were trying to blend in, and Buu beamed down at it like a child who'd won a game of Hide and Seek.
The life inside the house was so insignificant that Buu couldn't sense it. How someone as powerful as Goku could fall to such a low as to attach himself to such inferior beings was beyond him. Fortunately, it didn't matter. Buu, now a kind of savior, would relieve Goku of what had been holding him back from what would be his true potential.
Buu's breath caught in his chest when he saw a flash of a midnight purple form peaking out from the screen door. Then the full body of the dark haired woman from his memories emerged from the house, stepping lightly down from the doorway and embarking the grassy yard. Buu watched, captivated, as Chichi gently knelt and poured a pan of steaming liquid over the ground, careful to keep it away from her feet and dress. Something in Buu's chest felt warm. Buu found it and smothered it, replacing it at once with the purpose of his mission.
The mutant extended a steady hand and between his fingers, could still see the distant form of the purple-clad woman making her way back into the house, now emptied pan in hand.
A different sort of heat from the one he'd felt in his chest began boiling in his open palm and he sent it down to the cottage the woman called ChiChi had just vanished into.
For reasons Buu didn't care to explore, he chose not witness the incineration of Goku's wife first hand. Instead he remained above and watched as, within seconds, a new crater replaced the modest home.
Something clenched inside of him instantly and he bit back a groan. Buu felt a pain that was not physical yet it made him yearn to grab for his chest. He resisted.
An odd sense of loss, mixed with the pleasure he often derived from causing destruction blended and erupted within him to create a new and exhilerating rush he hadn't anticipated. It was a sensation he didn't recognize, like hopelessness or sympathy. Killing randomly and at will, while exciting by nature, did get monotonous after a while. This added attachment to the victim had thrown in a certain twist, a hesitation. Fighting that hesitation caused a blazing turmoil in himself. He hadn't felt such a radiating kick in... he didn't know how long. The only thing like it that he could recall was when he walked away from the Saiyan, those days ago.
Buu pictured the splayed body, almost the size of a child, lying there twitching and soiled in the brushes, eyes rolled in his head. It was a phenomenal high he'd felt then and he hadn't really thought back on it until just now when he'd gotten the similar feeling. There was a battle raging in his head and he appeared to be winning it now as he had then. If he plucked off every one of Goku's loved one's like this, would he feel this each time, like something was tearing yet flourishing inside of him?
There was a sort of psychotic thrill in it, like he was slowly killing a part of himself but with it, growing more powerful, like slowly breaking from the anchor. As destructive as Buu was, the idea of destroying himself had never occurred to him. All the while he felt a power surging beneath his skin. The sorrow and anger and rage blended into a spiked arousal. He was bursting with an undefinable need. He wanted to go out and do more damage in the hunt for more of this wonderful feeling.
Perhaps he had found a way to tap into this new power with which Goku had gifted him.
The Earth Saiyan had something that Buu did not and it was the ability to emotionally attach himself to others, or the ability to “love”. With this power of attachment came the irrepressible sorrow when those beloved things were damaged or lost. Buu had never experienced such a dilemma.
However it was that Goku had been absorbed without his emotions getting muted like all the others was beyond Buu, but he attributed it to the fact that he'd never absorbed such a formidable energy as Goku's. With such an energy came unforeseeable side effects. All the same, Buu was beginning to see how he could use these overriding emotions to his advantage, even find some enjoyment in them.
The rush was slowly ebbing away and Buu found he wasn't ready to lose it yet.
He wanted more.

From a thick hedge some distance from where the Son house once stood, Vegeta and a very frazzled Chichi lay, heads down in the brambles. Chunks of earth and debris flew over them. The flash had ended and now there was just emptied space, which Vegeta had just managed to clear.
The Saiyan had arrived in the nick of time.
Chichi coughed up some dirt and Vegeta peaked up through the hedges to see where Buu had gone. The pink freak was hovering idly some hundred feet above.
Although Vegeta was never one to hide, even he could admit that he was in no condition to face the mutant.
Chichi whined something next to him and Vegeta quickly hushed her, his eyes never leaving the gleaming pink blotch in the sky. Buu seemed to be formulating something drastic. He seemed enthused. In a flash, he darted off. Vegeta nearly jumped at the swiftness of it, almost expecting the fiend to appear next to him in the hedge.
Vegeta looked around and then back at Chichi, who was staring around in alarm. Not yet ready to talk to her, he quickly stood up, grabbed her wrist when she offered it and pulled her up as well. When she looked like she was about to speak, Vegeta said, gently now, “I'll explain later. Not here.”
That seemed to suffice. Chichi nodded and allowed him to scoop her into his arms.
They took flight.

Some time had passed and Vegeta hadn't said a word the whole way. However, the grimace on his face spoke volumes of the argument that was screaming in his mind.
Vegeta couldn't believe that Buu would go to Kakarot's home. Certainly Vegeta was preparing for the possibility, but he hadn't really expected it --and so soon! What on Earth had driven the bastard to it? What could Buu possibly get from killing the wife of Kakarot?
“Vegeta?” came Chichi's voice softly, awakening Vegeta from his thoughts.
The annoyed Saiyan hoped to Kami she wouldn't ask why they were flying so slow. But she didn't and Vegeta stared, slightly confused as her eyes began to glaze and her lip quivered.
“They told me Goku was absorbed. They told me it wasn't safe to stay but I had to wait for you. I knew that you would come here. I knew you would.”
Chichi was emotional to the point of tears and Vegeta was at a loss for a response. Instinctively, he sneered and all but dropped her when she suddenly moved to embrace him around the neck. But he let her do it, knowing it must be comforting to her.
The rest of the trip up to Dende's Lookout passed in silence. They landed lightly and, as always, the Guardian of Earth and Mr. Popo were waiting. Vegeta transferred Chichi over to them and left in a hurry to the next stop on the list, Capsule Corporation.

Vegeta was regaining his energy and flew now at a pace slightly more urgent. He didn't know if Buu would pay Bulma a similar visit but he wouldn't risk it. He hoped he wasn't too late.
When Vegeta arrived, Bulma spoke quickly. Like Chichi, she'd been informed of what had happened to Goku, but unlike Chichi, was not expecting a rescue.
“Listen, I can't just leave everything here. What about my work! I've hardly packed!”
Vegeta responded as he usually did when he wanted something done and Bulma preferred arguing about it first-- he did what he wanted. Through with the idea of arguing any further with the woman, he tossed her over his shoulder in a practiced fashion and flew out the door.

The day was coming to a close and every living Earthling Vegeta and Goku had called friend or family , or in Vegeta's case, tolerable company, was now bunched up at Dende's little place in the sky.
There was jumble of noise, mostly dominated by Bulma and the occasional quip from Chichi. Vegeta stood off in the corner not wanting to draw much attention to himself. He wasn't quite at home in his new role as the hero.
Somewhere between all the bustle and noise, the young Namekian, Dende, made his way over to Vegeta's corner.
Vegeta didn't greet him and he didn't need to ask what was on the Namekian's mind. He knew no action on Earth was hidden from the broad gaze of the Guardian.
They were silent for a solid few minutes before Dende finally spoke up.
“They'll be safe here, for now,” he said.
Vegeta said nothing. He understood. The words, for now, hovered ominously in his mind.
“There is a humanity in Buu that still holds some things sacred. For whatever reason, he has been ignoring this place. I don't know for how long he will overlook us but I think it's safe to assume that we don't have long.”
Vegeta's agreement took the form of a stern silence.
The Prince had never quite taken to the new Guardian of Earth. Perhaps it was his lofty position at such a young age and all the responsibility he assumed. But Vegeta understood that Dende had never asked for it. Still, he'd accepted it, like he did with most things, with grace and optimism. Maybe it was that unyielding optimism that had always rubbed Vegeta the wrong way. He realized then that Dende reminded him of Kakarot. Vegeta tensed slightly.
He had to admit, though, the young Guardian did have a soothing way about him. Vegeta found that the weight he'd been carrying with him all day was easing slightly. Despite himself, Vegeta was grateful that the little sop didn't come over to chide him for his heart that, as it turned out, was not made of stone. He didn't need the condescension. What would have been worse still, was if he'd come to pity him for what Vegeta was sure he knew had happened. But Dende didn't appear to want to do either.
They watched the crowd for a few moments.
“Vegeta,” Dende gently broke the silence, turning to the stony Saiyan.
Vegeta turned to see the Namekian looking him up and down with a curious sort of expression.
“Did you want to borrow some clothes?”
Vegeta looked down at himself. He was still wearing the Earth clothes that he'd found in the vacant house he'd woken up in that morning. It was khaki slacks, too large around the hips so they sagged, and a beige, short-sleeve shirt which was buttoned sloppily in a haste.
“It's fine,” Vegeta replied dismissively, masking his slight embarrassment. “I just need a belt.”
Dende nodded in his accepting way that seemed to hold no judgment. Vegeta examined the innocent face and couldn't honestly imagine Dende judging anyone hastily. The Prince considered for a passing moment that perhaps the Guardian did not think less of him for what had happened in the grove.

The rabbling crowd was simmering down. They had come to a conclusion.
They didn't have to deliberate for long, in fact the decision was unanimous. In such dire times as these, when all hope seemed lost and heroes had fallen, where else had they ever found hope but in the gleam and promise of the seven ancient Dragon Balls?
Of course the Dragon Balls.
Vegeta's folded arms tightened over his chest as he listened to the plan which did not involve the present, remaining Saiyan saving the day in a final, harrowing battle. Vegeta didn't blame them for leaving him out of the equation. He was no hero, he knew. They all knew. He'd had his chance at Buu and lost not only the fight but much more. He could swear he'd even lost himself at some point in that dark, thorny place, as much as he hated to think back on it.
Bulma must have mistaken his bowed head and averted stare as a show of displacement.
“But don't think you're off the hook, Vegeta,” she called over with a finger and a smirk. “You play an important part in this. We'll need your speed to fetch those Dragon Balls in a hurry.”
Vegeta felt patronized and turned away with a clipped murmur.
They discussed the plan a little more and went into some in-depth planning. Bulma reaffirmed that Vegeta was wrong in snatching her so quickly, as she had been forced to leave some key tools behind. For one, the Dragon Radar.
Vegeta was tasked to swing back to Capsule Corp. and snag some survival equipment. From there, they would begin the hunt for the Dragon Balls.
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Mind Rape