Ahem, before I start this fanfic out, I would like to say these things to you, the reader:

I do not own DBZ, it's characters, or the plot, since no one can really own a plot. In laymen's terms, I don't own anything. At all. Maybe what I write here. If you plagiarize I'm comin' after your lily-livered butts. Uh-huh. "Mammy, get Ol' Faithful out. I'm gonna hunted some rats t'night." Pa spit out tobacco into the gold pot, cackling, slapping his spencers to his chest.

This is an A/U. The characters are mine to mold. They will be somewhat like their counterparts in DBZ but not that much. Their spirit will stay the same though. ^^;; "I'LL SAVE YOU, BULMA!" Yamcha roared as he reached out for her then spotted a sub sandwich beside him, only three feet away. He turned to Bulma mouthing "one minute," ignoring her shocked look, and pulled away, grinning at the sandwich. "Come to daddy-kins. Mmmm. Goob stufb."

There will be sex in this fanfic. I warn you to go back because it's R. AH! The shock! The horror! "Run! Women and children first!" Jack yelled as he tore out the lifesavers from the Titanic's walls, throwing them to the crowd.

And that I hope you enjoy this fanfic. I tried my best, and unfortunately didn't find the 1920s to my great interest. I'm afraid I have messed some characters (then again it's an A/U, so it doesn't matter), some facts, and some of everything. However, I also hope that you, the reader, will find it somewhere in your hearts to forgive me. Now the fanfic may start. Also as a forewarning, don't be shocked at how easily these characters fall in love. Love happens slow and fast. I simply decided to speed the process, lol. Vegeta's character is young and slightly naive in matters of the other sex and whatnot, while Bulma is experienced. Very experienced. ^_~ "Mreow. Mommy likes." Bulma winked at the blushing Vegeta, who was holding her foot, rubbing it.

The year is 1924, setting: Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Thanks for your time and enjoy reading the fanfic. Yes, I know the ANs are funny. ^.^


By: Bunni


Chapter One


The dirty streets of Louisiana was retching of sin done, sin did, and sin to be. Only a man such as the one standing before the most prosperous hotel in all of Baton Rouge, could fit here.

He lit a cigar as he entered the hotel, a young man followed him, looking his identical. The boy seemed only in his late teens, shorter than his older counterpart with black hair, looked around. He had a rather ruthless look to him, with a haunted look in his eyes. He looked around the streets of Louisiana. God, he hated it here already. The streets smelled, his father looked pompous as always, and he could feel mosquitoes all around him. 'Futzing South.' He thought as he slapped a hand to his neck, scowling.

His father had auburn hair with a goatee, standing in a flame much like his son. His stance was the same as his son's, his smirk was prideful, and the money and tommygun in his briefcase made him feel powerful. He looked around the streets of Louisiana. Frieza sure picked a nice location, Mr. Ouji thought dryly. He was a North man and was sweating already from the temperature of the night.

Both men were different in almost everyway except cunning, physical traits, and the same blood. But other than that, you might as well called them strangers. Perfect ones at that. Both were in prim suits, cut to show their handsome frames.

Their two companions, both men, lounged behind them. One was bald with glaring black eyes. He looked around suspiciously, not easily trusting the environment. He was taller than six feet, towering over everyone that passed by him. His suit was a nice gray, the waist narrow, and maybe under any other circumstances where he would smile, he would be handsome. He sniffed around and shuddered. Ugh. South. The root of all Kolds.

The other had long black hair and grinning mouth as he looked around. When women (preferably beautiful) walked by, he discreetly squeezed their bottoms. They would gasp and look back at him and he'd only innocently look at him, shrugging his shoulders mouthing, "what," smiling as they walked away. He breathed the air. The South. God, he was happy to be home.

Both men followed the "twins" dutifully, each wondering about their surroundings. The boy watched his father puff on the cigar in his mouth.

"Smell that, boy?" The boy beside him sneered.

"Yeah." He never carried a like for the places his father went. "I smell it, old man." His tone implied extreme distaste. To his father, who wasn't sure where the distaste was directed: him, or Louisiana, reprimanded his son.

He sent a sharp look to his son, who defiantly glared back. "Watch your tongue."

When his son said nothing, the father walked on into the hotel, stopping at the reservation table to talk to the worker. The onyx haired boy mumbled as he looked away, "Yeah, yeah. I'll watch it all right." He walked in, looking back as the two men behind him carried their suitcases.



"I don't see why we get stuck with baggage duty." The long-haired man mumbled. The bald one nudged him roughly.

"Cut the bushwa, Raditz. It's a job and it pays some nifty clams so shut your yap."

"Futz." Was the reply.

The boy watched his father return with the keys jingling in his pocket. Raditz smirked and the bald man looked around suspiciously still. They entered the elevator barely acknowledging the African man in a bellhop outfit, a dark purple with golden tassels. The dark-skinned man said in a deep timbre, "Going up," and swung the switch, smiling to himself. The elevator jolted upwards. The bald headed man mumbled to himself, "Kold better be offering a darn good offer."

The hallways were empty and had the cold and plastered appearance to it as the men walked. All walked in long strides with scowls on their faces, daring people to step in their paths. To anyone who might've walked out their rooms at the wrong moment, immediately retreated back, jumping away in fright. It was rare for someone to recognize the man more formally known as the King of the North with his companions.

Raditz looked around, impressed. The South changed while he was gone. "Nappa, it sure is a beaut, ain't it?" He paused and sighed at a painting. It look like something his dear ol' Auntie would make. He sighed again in wistfulness. I should give her a call... Then he felt a rough shake of his shoulder and he turned to meet very angry, very black, very Nappa eyes. The baldheaded man glared, hissing between clenched teeth. The two others stopped to watch, the boy snickering a little and the man coldly smiling.

"Move it, Raditz."


Nappa narrowed his already narrowed eyes. "Not gonna tell you again. We're not here to play tea party and be old birds on the patio thinking about grand Ol' times... Right Mr. Ouji?" Nappa suddenly had a small meek look to him. Raditz snickered before Nappa discreetly stomped the his foot. Raditz bit his lip to keep in the yowl of anguish and passed it off as a teary-eyed joy look.

The one with auburn hair and goatee answered with a smirk. "Right, Nappa." The boy beside him looked as if he were dying of boredom. Mr. Ouji sent another sharp look to him, "For crying out loud, boy, I don't like the place either but at least I don't look half-dead." The boy snarled quietly but held his tongue. He gazed resentfully at his father, feeling the utter hate rise up within him. Raditz looked confused and silently asked Nappa what was going on. Nappa shrugged and mouthed through the side of his mouth, "Family trouble." Raditz nodded. Yep. Better stay out of it.

"C'mon." Mr. Ouji growled, glaring back at his son. He walked on, grip tightening on his suitcase. Raditz was slow, taking in everything in the hall. The beautiful paintings, the lovely peach color, the smell of spice and heat everywhere. Home. He grinned and winced as Nappa slapped him over the head.

"I told you."

"Yeah, yeah." Raditz mumbled. The boy rolled his eyes at that. God, what goofs. He turned to his father, "Gimme the key, old man."

"First say please." Came the gruff reply. The boy clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes.

"Please, Father."

A cold chuckle came from Mr. Ouji. He threw the keys to his son. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

The boy snarled and viciously put his key in the door, stomping in, and closing it vehemently in his father's face. Darn him! He punched his fist into the wall, making a hole and some blood leak out of his hand. He looked down and saw the key still in his hand. He sent it to the floor, holding his injured hand.

The boy slammed a door opened and growled at the closet space. He turned and opened another door. He smirked and slipped inside the bedroom, strolling slowly, his gaze on the bed. Wow was the least of it. But he could careless. He snorted at the canopy bed and it's silky covers. Like he was ever going to enjoy that in the hot and scratchy nights of Baton Rouge. He shuddered when he thought of all the insects that would creep into his bed and fly around his face, sucking his blood.

He warily turned away from the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

At least the rooms were spacious, he mused as he wrapped a towel around his hand, like all the others he'd been to. Of course he wouldn't accept any less than that. It was known that the Palace had a reputation of spotless gold. Or that's what his father liked to remark about it. The boy snorted. To him, everything printed was a lie, unless he saw nice hard facts to go with it.

He bandaged his wound, and looked to the bathtub. He shook his head, deciding against the shower. Afterall, what kind of stuff might they have in South water? He thought disgusted.

Flinging himself over the bed, he eyed an open balcony-window. Cheers were still heard and the moon was shining bright. Midnight and past, he yawned. Then he slapped his hand over his cheek and looked at it. A small insect twitched on his fingers. He scowled as he put a pillow over his head. Futzing South. He groaned, feeling miserable that he was away from his home. On the ground, a small note that was on the pillow fell down, going unnoticed by the boy.

It read: WELCOME VEGETA OUJI JR. in annoying good cursive that you could hardly read it. On the back it said many cheerful things to do in Baton Rouge. Was Vegeta interested? Heck no. He already dozed off from under his pillow.



He opened an eye and immediately shut it when the sun shined directly into it. God, he missed the North. The smog, the clouds, the comforting coldness. Here it was too sweaty, too sunny, too ... happy. He shuddered in contempt.

Vegeta, with his hand over his eyes, got up and half-crawled, half-walked, to the balcony window, slamming it shut. Shadows welcomed him. He smirked. Well, at least it wasn't so sunny anymore.

He looked around, eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. He stumbled around a bit before finally getting his settings. He leapt into his bed and pulled the covers over his head, not minding his still cut hand or the fact he still had clothes on.

Three minutes later he felt scratchy and hot all over. His back and legs itched with something invisible. Oh no. He opened one eye and looked down at his spasming lower body. Futz. He reached down and scratched his leg over the fabric. It only aggravated the irritation more. Vegeta scratched it more and finally lifted himself off to strip himself of his pants. Humid air seeped through his room, making him sweat. He laid on the bed, wondering even if South water was dirty, would it be nice and cold to sleep in for the day?

He kept thinking that throughout the day as he roasted in the sauna called his room. Maybe the weather would get better and cool down.

I can't stay here forever, Vegeta groaned to himself as he stared at the canopy bed. If it was hot at night, it was hell during day. The heat kept going up and up, he noticed with displeasure. Why did they have to come during the summer? And to this futzing place too! He started to bang his head against the pillows out of insanity and boredom.

He looked to the balcony doors. Sunlight still streamed from little openings, making odd light shapes on the floor. Darn, he needed a shower. The prospect of getting nice and cool (nevermind that it was South water!) was very appealing to him right now. He looked at the open bathroom, smiling a bit, getting off the bed and dragging himself on the floor to it.



"He hasn't gotten up." Raditz noted as he peeked his head out the door, seeing the closed door still. "You don't think.." he trailed off. Nappa scrunched up his face.

"Nah. Vegeta wouldn't do that."

Raditz looked unsure. "Still."

"Listen, Small Fry," Nappa rolled his eyes and dealt with the cards, "I know Vegeta. I've known him since the day he was born. The Ouji family and the Abbages have been working with each other since...since...ever." He shrugged. "I think I know what Vegeta will and will not do."

Raditz arched his brow and sighed. He leaned back in his chair. "You'd better, baby grand. Otherwise Mr. Ouji will chop off our balls."

Nappa smirked. "Trust me." And of course against his instincts, Raditz did.



"Heh heh heh." Vegeta snickered to himself as he dressed his hand. After a nice, long, and might I add, COLD shower, he came up with a prank that would pass the time in Louisiana.

It was simple, he decided as he tied a tie and fixed his coat. He frowned down at the height. Tall, high, dangerous. The smirk came on his face.

Just his style.



"He's been awfully quiet..." Raditz mused. Nappa grunted. "So?"

"Just sayin, Nappa. Just sayin."

"Well, shut your sayins up and get back to the game. You know I'm winning."

Raditz scowled. "You wish."

Nappa gave a smirk. Flies buzzed around him in the small hallway. The whole floor was deserted (things that Raditz, bored as heck, decided to check out). When they discovered this (or rather Raditz discovered, Nappa just stood there), they brought out a table and cards in front of their young charge's room.

"You think he's okay?" Raditz asked all of a sudden.

"Don't get all motherly on me, Raditz."

Raditz held up his hands, "Hey, hey, I'm not. I just don't want-"

"-your balls chopped off." Nappa shifted the cards in his hand. He continued in his bored tone, "I know." Raditz rolled his eyes and looked down at his cards. Silence continued and Nappa started to relax. Ah, this was the life. Just sittin down, playin cards, peace and quiet. No one could bother him. Not even-

"But what if something happened to him?"

Nappa took in a deep breath and laid down his cards, face down. He stared at Raditz with wide, black eyes. "Shut. Up. Quit beatin' your gums for a second and play, you little Ethel." He calmly picked up his cards and looked at them. Raditz stared at Nappa for a couple of seconds before picking up his cards as well.

"I just was worried." he muttered under his breath, feeling a little hurt at the namecalling.



He had climbed down the tree just outside the hotel. It was, what, 40, 50 feet? He could take it. Suddenly the branch he was holding unto bended.

He widened his eyes and held his breath, struggling to get any other branch. His arm reached for one nearest to him but he couldn't seem to reach it.

The branch was beginning to snap.

Vegeta grunted and reached for the branch. Just a little further and-the crackling of the branch grew more pronounced-he had to reach-he was going down-just a little more, he thought as he almost reached it.

The branch snapped. He let out a scream.



"Didya hear that?" Raditz's head snapped around as he set down his cards. Nappa took a peek at them when Raditz turned his head to the door. "Didya, Nappa?"

"Nope." Nappa smirked at the hand Raditz had and leaned back in his chair, acting as if he had never seen the cards and had been innocently looking at his cards the whole time.

"It was someone screaming. Someone who sounded a lot like Vegeta.." he trailed off, hoping Nappa would get the message. The bald man didn't. Raditz growled, "I said-"

"Oh I heard you!" Nappa set down his cards, irritated with Raditz. He got up and folded his arms. "If you love Vegeta that much, knock down the door and see for yourself." Raditz looked unsure but Nappa gestured impatiently towards the wooden door.

So Raditz knocked down the door and both walked around the hotel room. Nappa scowled. Raditz was caught between triumph and loss. He wanted to dance and squeeze a woman's soft bottom for his victory of being right and wanted to whine because he didn't particularly like playing hide-and-seek in a large city, with a seventeen-year old kid who wanted to play hooky from the hotel and cause two bodygaurds some trouble.

"See? I toldya-" The rest was muffled as Nappa's large hand covered Raditz's face, preventing him from speaking. Nappa closed his eyes and had an angry glint in them when they were opened. He glared at the open window. A piece of cloth was tied to the post in a traditional escapee fashion, making a makeshift rope. He couldn't believe Vegeta would do this. Then again, he should've expected Vegeta to do this. The boy was just confusing. Nappa growled.

"Just ... be quiet."



People walked around on the hot sidewalks, used to the heat. Too bad Vegeta wasn't. He tried to keep his tongue in and breathing in check. Darn, it was hot. He rolled his eyes at the obviousness of the thought. Slowly he plucked himself from the bushes and winced at the ache in his back, brushing away stray twigs and leaves that clung to his shirt.

Louisiana wasn't so bad, he decided. Heh, yeah right. Vegeta sloothed on the sidewalks, avoiding any contact with people. The plan almost worked. Almost.

He bumped into someone. Or rather, the person bumped into him. He scowled and looked at the offender. He was hot, sweaty, and to top it all off: a temper easily roused. Vegeta grabbed the woman that bumped into him. "Hey watch where you're going," his voice trailed off to the air as he stared. He blinked and let go of her arm. "doll.."

She blinked at him also, one hand deep in her coat pocket and one fingering a blue bang that fell from under her hat. She gave a sideways look and furrowed her eyebrows. Her eyes, which were a nice blue, looked apprehensive, nervous, very uneasy. "Somethin' wrong, Sir?"

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Chapter 2