A Fanfic by Vegita, Guardian Of Destiny
A bright flash of light. A swift breeze.
The rocky landscape. The blinding sun. And him there, staring.
Vegita looked down upon Gokuu with hate in his eyes, a hate unsurpassed
by anything. "Except my strength," thought Vegita. Today was only a
distant memory, yet was as real to him now as his morning breakfast had been
not an hour ago. He savored the taste of the wind, the slight heat
temperature, the glare from the sun, a slight itch in his shoulder. "Are
you going to fight, or not?" Gokuu called out. Vegita smiled.
"No, I'm not going to fight. That'd be to hard for you." With
that, Vegita moved with a speed that Gokuu couldn't follow then...no, Gokuu
could never follow this speed. Or match it. Or beat it. As
Gokuu's eyes looked everywhere for his opponent, Vegita calmly struck up
a pose directly behind his adversary. His fist plunged through Gokuu'
chest, from the back. His scream echoed for miles. Vegita smiled.
He had imagined it would sound this way. The light from the sun
suddenly faded around Vegita, and he was plunged into darkness.
"Training simulator complete. Objective:
Kakkorot. Status: Terminated." The computer rattled
off the statistics of the latest simulated battle as the harsh florescent
lights came up in the room. Vegita ignored the recorded voice of his
wife, pondering on his latest victory. He didn't notice Trunks enter
the room from the door behind him. "Father," he began. Vegita stopped
him mid-sentence with a raising of his hand. Without looking up, Vegita
said, "I've beaten him a thousand different ways on a thousand different
planets. I've killed him every way I know of-" Trunks cut him
off. "Yet you won't stop. You know, Dad, you really shouldn't
do this. Mom and I are getting worried. You spend too much time
in here, doing the same thing over and over again. The Simulator wasn't
made so you can go back to any time in your life and do something differently."
Vegita looked at his son coldly. "I know what it was made for.
It was made so I can train to be stronger."
Trunks began, "And you are stronger! I'll
bet even Gohan would be awed at your strength. Heck, if me and Goten
ever fused again-" Vegita turned, grabbed his son by the throat, and
lifted him off the ground. "If you EVER mention that bratty son of
a....son of a....son of..." He trailed off. Trunks wrenched himself
free of his grasp, and walked over to the door. "Besides," Vegita said,
"You're right. I am stronger, aren't I?" Trunks turned and left
his father in the cold confines of the training facility, while Vegita walked
over to the panel to punch in the next scenario. "I am stronger,
physically. I have healed so many times, it's impossible to count;
death is but a fleeting memory. But..." he looked up from the program
screen. "When will my mind heal?" He punched in the keywords
'Namek', 'Freeza', and 'Piccolo', and went to work.
Trunks walked across the courtyard, where
his mother was lying under a shading umbrella with the Capsule Corp. logo
on it. She was sipping a margarita, and reading a manual on hypercar
races. "Did you know," she said as he approached, "That those cars
can get up to speeds of 2,000 K.P.H.? Can you believe that? And
Vegita can fly faster than that without breaking a sweat." Trunks looked
at her with disgust. "What about me? I can do that too, you know!"
He sat next to her in a wicker chair.
"Why are you looking at that? You planning
on becoming a driver? Trying to do something dangerous just so you
can earn enough money to make ends meet?"
His mother laughed. "Sure, honey. That's
it. Since the President of the company doesn't know the first thing
about running a business, he's killing off our profits. I guess it
couldn't hurt to use my knowledge to create a car that would easily ace theirs."
Trunks gave her a strange look. "What do you
mean? You can't be serious! You know full and well that you wouldn't
survive a car wreck at 60 Kilometers an hour, let alone 2,000! Only
dad and I could survive that. Or The Son family, or the Kuririn Clan,
or even...Yamcha?"
Bulma looked up from the manual, and glared at
her son. "How do you know about Yamcha? Did Veggie tell
you about that?"
"How could he? He didn't know him. The
most Dad ever knew of him was that he saw him die by those weird little seed-men,
and Android #19 did him in, or various other times he lost in a fight." He
sat back in his chair. "What did you ever see in him? He never
trained that hard. The most he ever did was try to get stronger than
TenShinHan and Kuririn. And the short time that I ever saw him, he
was dying because Dr. Gero had nearly killed him."
"I guess he felt he didn't need to try so hard
once you were around, dear." Trunks looked away in disgust. "Mom,"
he said, "I'm a grown man. Don't call me dear." She kept going.
"Oh, does my little snookums not like that? Does my widdle iddy biddy
baby boy not want his mommy to call him-"
"You know, sometimes you really make me sick."
They both turned and looked at Vegita, who was standing over them with
the usual pose: arms crossed, head up, etc. "But then again, that's
the price I pay for marrying you." Bulma looked at Trunks, then him
again. "So, how did you kill Gokuu this time? Beat him to death
with a chicken? Drop a house on him? Pick up a dead Namekian
and club him with it for a while?"
"No, no, and yes. That one was rather fun.
Piccolo squirms a lot." Trunks and Bulma gave him an odd look.
Vegita continued. "But enough of that. When's lunch? I'm
starving." Bulma's first instinct was to say "She probably sneezed,"
but decided not to, since neither of them would have gotten the joke. "Why
do you always want to eat? I swear, sometimes you remind me of-" He
cut her off by lifting up her chair, with her in it. "Don't you dare
speak that name!!!!" he yelled. He then stormed off, after dropping
the chair. Trunks managed to catch Bulma. They both watched him
fly off. "Why does he do it? Why does he continue to torture
himself? He knows that we can't bring him back. Shen Long said
we can't use the Dragon Balls, and we don't even know if he's dead or not!"
Bulma looked to her son, and replied, "I know. All we know is
that he disappeared. He could be anywhere. Hanging out in the
afterlife, floating along out in space..." She looked up at the sky.
"I haven't been in space for ages. I wonder if I should take
a vacation." Trunks snorted at the notion. "Sure, you need a
vacation. Fron your busy schedule of sitting around and dreaming of
becoming a racer." She ignored him, and began reading her story
again.
"Why no, actually, I haven't seen her." Dr.
Briefs looked at the girl. "Why do you want to find Bulma? If
you want a mechanic, I can help you, you know-" "Thanks, but no thanks,"
she cut him off. "I'll just look around here myself." She turned
and walked off, heading for the door leading outside to the courtyard. The
harsh sunlight made her squint her eyes, as she put her hand to her forehead
to block the sun's rays. She spied Trunks and Bulma off in the distance,
talking underneath the shade of an umbrella. She flew over to the site,
and landed in front of Bulma's lawnchair. "Well well well, if it isn't
Pan, my father's mortal enemy's granddaughter. I see you've grown up
quite nicely." She shot him an angry look, and turned back to Bulma.
"I'm only 19, Trunks. I've got a ways to go to grow up. Then
again, I'm not that much younger than you and Uncle Goten, now am I?"
Bulma looked up from her manual. "So, what brings you here, Pan?
Looking for Bra to do some shopping with? I'm afraid she already
beat you to the punch, she left for the mall an hour ago." She
shook her head. "No, I want to look at some of your...old equipment."
Bulma looked at her, puzzled. "What do
you mean, old equipment? I've got plenty of equipment that's decades
old, but what are you looking for specifically?" Pan looked at Trunks,
then back to Bulma. "I'm looking for the equipment my grandfather used."
Trunks cut in. "Huh? What are you talking about? He
didn't use anything but his fists and that Space Pod. Oh, I get it.
You want to use it to train, don't you?" She paused. "Yes.
Where is it?" Bulma pointed off to the west, where a small building,
the size of a small toolshed, was kept. "It's in there, with the other
stuff I used at about that time. Neither of you would know about it,
but I had some pretty hecktick adventures on Namek, too. I had to go
underwater, in a gigantic walker, and I had to deal with Zarbon, and Vegita,
and..." She trailed off when she realized that they didn't know what she
was talking about. Or didn't believe her, she couldn't tell.
"Thank you. I won't destroy it or anything."
She headed for the building. Trunks called after her "And you'd
better have that thing home by 11 o' clock, or no TV for you! And if
you scratch it, it's coming out of your allowance!" She smiled, and
walked on. Bulma went back to her manual. "Why, because if she
scratched it, we wouldn't be able to afford to fix it?" Trunks grabbed
the manual from her. "Gimme this thing. I might as well look
at it if you're going to be that way."
Pan rummaged through the various objects that littered the floor of the room, which was several times the size of it's outer shell. She spied the ship off in one corner, but kept on looking. "It's got to be in here somewhere," she thought to herself. She looked upon the shelves, underneath the piles of capsules labeled "Bulma's Cars", and even in the ship itself. No luck. Then, she noticed a safe on a shelf high above the ship. A slight glimmer of silver caught her eye. "Thought no one would notice it, huh, Bulma?" She grabbed the safe, fiddled with the combination for a few minutes, then shook her head in disgust, and punched through the door. She ripped the door off, and looked inside. There it was. The Dragon Radar.