Breaking the Prince (Part 1) | By : Doog Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3089 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters. I will not make a profit from this story. |
A/N: I began working on this in 2011 as an exploration of how Vegeta became the character we meet in Dragon Ball Z. What started as a short experiment evolved into a 43,000+ story...with an even longer sequel. I hope you enjoy it.
For Piquan.
Prologue The crack of fist on bone reverberated through the training room. The sound of the warrior's armor smacking against the sterile, white wall followed almost immediately after, leaving no doubt in the onlookers' minds that their comrade had been rendered either dead or useless in battle. They stared at the crumpled form, its dark green scales crushed inward to reveal even darker, viscous matter oozing through the mass of broken chest plates. Their gazes quickly returned to their adversary in renewed determination; Vegeta stood with his arm extended, retaining the battle stance from which he had thrust his fist into the alien's chest."You are going to have to come at me all at once to make this interesting," Vegeta announced, half-smiling smugly. He was satisfied with the effect of his first blow; their natural plate armor was going to be no trouble at all.
The more than fifty elite Furujin warriors growled menacingly through their bared teeth, but held their ground in a wide half-circle around Vegeta, glancing at each other with their dark eyes, unsure of how to initiate another attack. Vegeta watched as one to his right side lowered his scaly head then launched himself into action, thrusting his shoulder forward. Vegeta leapt over the bodily attack, letting the alien twice his size shoot under him. Before the attacking warrior could register this movement, Vegeta grabbed him by his trailing arm and swung him towards the line of soldiers still watching.
Vegeta had little time to relish in the toppling of a dozen reptilian bodies before he turned his attention to the numerous fighters that had joined the attack. He struck one directly in the face, feeling the skull hidden under the coarse flesh cave around his white glove. The next he kicked in a lower limb, the muscular structure snapping at its joint. He attempted to claw Vegeta as he collapsed on the broken leg, but Vegeta dodged and elbowed him in the torso, pushing him aside to make room for the next attackers.
The Furujin soon realized the extent of Vegeta's advantages in strength and speed and began to attack from all sides in waves. Their movements were slow, even careless compared to the cold efficiency of Vegeta's counter-attacks. He used their bodies against them, redirecting their punches to attackers coming from the opposite side. Using one arm and the momentum of his victim's body, he was able to rip a forelimb from its root, cleaving the joint with the stiff, extended fingers of his other hand. The detached limb became a weapon to break the jaw of the next soldier. It was too easy.
When the Furujin had learned of the arrival of Freeza and his men, they had naively believed that an alliance would follow. The Planet Trade Organization's intentions had quickly become clear via the destruction of several of the Furujin’s largest cities. Refusing to accept that they could not change the fate of their planet, the ancient race had even more naively sent a group of their best warriors to fight an equal number of Freeza's men. Freeza had been amused at the idea and invited them to a nearby planet that he had already occupied and developed, intending to vaporize their ship in space. Vegeta, bored from being underutilized for some time while Freeza had been preoccupied with planning, had volunteered to exterminate the group of warriors personally. Freeza always seemed to find Vegeta's enthusiasm for intimate combat pleasing, and had allowed the ship to land and the occupants to be escorted to the structurally reinforced training facilities.
Upon their arrival at the tall, cold, brightly-lit space, they had been taken aback to see a solitary Vegeta standing confidently in the middle of the empty floor, accompanied by only a smattering of soldiers along the periphery of the room. Vegeta smiled at the memory of their initial confusion. When they were told they were to fight only Vegeta, their reactions had ranged from insulted to arrogance. That was changing now; Vegeta could see despair growing in their tense expressions.
"Are you determined to die so quickly?!" Vegeta taunted, pounding his fists relentlessly into another Furujin's chest, enjoying the sensation of the hard armor giving way to the softer flesh underneath. The warrior was long dead before Vegeta turned to the next, interlacing his fists and enhancing the blow he dealt with a little more ki. The result sent two of his opponents flying wildly away, their bodies contorted with the force of impact.
The attacks were then constant, the doomed warriors recklessly pooling their efforts to overcome Vegeta. The Saiyajin prince increased his speed, but continued to deal more than the necessary number of blows to each fighter, sometimes returning to unconscious or dead forms around him simply because they had not yet toppled lifelessly from their upright positions. Soon, the only sounds in Vegeta's ears were the echoes of the impacts, the wet cracking of bones and flesh being pounded into a homogenous mess.
It had been too long since he had been sent on a mission, let alone on one in which he had been able to wreak wide-scale destruction. Being cooped up on a newly-redeveloped planet while Freeza was consumed with unknown tasks was the last way that Vegeta wanted to spend his time. Even this pathetic battle served as a welcome reprieve from the tedium of what he considered to be the "domestic" aspect of life under Freeza's rule. The only saving grace in the past weeks had been the lavish lifestyle that Freeza afforded his closest men, and Vegeta certainly enjoyed the luxuries that Freeza’s facilities had to offer.
These details, however, were inconsequential to Vegeta at the moment. Vegeta was now not thinking about the large cleansing compartment where he would soon be enjoying a leisurely, hot shower to wash away the thick residue of his dead enemies. His mind was preoccupied with one simple goal: killing. Time seemed to slow as the remaining Furujin rushed forward to die with the honor of sacrifice-without-hesitation. Vegeta savored the moment, relishing in how easily he could thrust his boot into the cracked plates of their abdomens. There was the even more satisfying feeling of his boot pushing through the spine and out of the back of one particularly unfortunate victim. The last fighter to confront him endured a continuous barrage of punches and kicks over the entire surface of his body. Vegeta only stopped when he realized he was simply mutilating unresponsive meat.
Vegeta was left crouching, panting, and gritting his teeth in a grin of savage delight. His eyes darted over the concentric circles of destruction that surrounded him, looking for an opportunity to use a ki blast to finish the job. A self-satisfied laugh shivered through his body as he felt almost giddy with the release of his bloodlust. Allowing himself to relax out of his battle stance, he stood cockily among the piles of corpses. His arms, legs, and chest were coated in blood and fragments of bone, his face splattered with residual carnage.
It wasn't until he glanced downward to laugh at a dismembered warrior, who still seemed to have a few agonal breaths left, that he noticed something was amiss. Looking down at his legs, he noticed a bulge along his right thigh under his battle uniform. Vegeta's back immediately stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he realized what had happened as he had reveled in the carnal pleasure of battle. It had only happened a few times before, but never where anyone could have seen it, and thankfully it had always subsided on its own quickly. Vegeta was frozen, not understanding why this was happening now, but knowing that it was something that he had to conceal. He suppressed a twinge of dread at the vague thought of Zarbon or Dodoria seeing him in this state, and tried to conceal the tightly confined lump of hardened flesh with his hand before turning his head to find the nearest exit.
Trying to appear casual as he walked over limbs and intestines and weaved around the larger piles of broken bodies, he made his way to the side entrance of the training room. Two of the attending soldiers jogged closer to assist, but Vegeta ignored them and went straight for the exit, calling, “Clean up this mess.” He activated the door and slipped through, deciding that it would be best to head straight for his quarters to clean up in privacy.
From his hover vehicle in his empty quarters, Freeza turned off the monitor for the training room. He relaxed into his seat, leaning his head back. His dark lips curled into a smile.
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