Awakening
By: Toshiba

"Miss? Excuse me, Miss?"

"Miss Briefs!"

"Yes, Mr. Baka, I mean Bakna?"

"This gentleman has been trying to get some assistance for several minutes. Next time you decide to black out, do it on your own time, or you'll have more time to day dream than you could ever need, IN THE UNEMPLOYMENT LINE."

"Yes, sir, right away, sir." Bulma agreed grabbing the customer's purchase with a phoney grin plastered to her face. The false expression remained until the tyrannical floor manager was out of sight. The girl then turned back to the customer before her, the initial shock of being jarred out of her dream world was soon replaced by her unnatural nervousness in front of most males. Flashing the man in front of her a nervous smile, she began to ring his order through; this was going to be a long day.

***

"Vegeta!" A maniacally voice yelled out, echoing off the unseen walls that stretched on for eternity. Periodically, the face of the impatienet man would be illuminated by flashes of flames, revealing the face of an impossibly handsome man. Well, at least the thing seated on the twisted mutated throne of bones was humanoid now, compared with the other, more grotesque incarnations that he usually adopted.

"You called, My Lord?" a strong baritone voice replied. The Saiyajin Prince knelt before the Lord of Hell, keeping his eyes from the seated figures face, trying to avoid those blood red eyes. Staring at the floor, his keen eyes discerned the writhing terrified souls made to spend eternity as the tiles in the twisted palace of the demon King.

"I have a new assignment for you, Saiyajin Prince, one I think you would be very interested." Vegeta never broke on his steady stare on the souls locked in the floor, every corner of this palace was built on death and suffering. In truth he was one of the lucky ones, he still kept his original form, the power that ran through his royal Saiyajin blood, when he was still alive.

"I am always honoured to serve you, my Master." The Saiyajin replied; his time in this pit of degradation had taught him when to bit his tongue and act the willing lap dog, yet another torment to add to the list. Hearing a sadistic chuckle from the being before him, the Prince finally broke his gaze on the floor and centred it on demon King. His eyes widened in surprise at the appearance of the creature before him, the human look was definitely something he had not seen.

"I am rather surprised sometimes by you, Saiyajin. You were sent here five years ago for your deeds as a mercenary of Freeza, killing by rebelling against your Master. I suppose I should not have trusted you to take you into my service but how could I not allow you, one whose soul is so black, to serve at my side? I must say though, you have exceeded all my expectations, have become my greatest servant; and yet I can feel the rebellious nature in you, the anger of your death haunts you still, so delicious is your pain." Vegita scowled at his Master's words all the while his head returning to start at the floor. If that creature was nothing else, it certainly was a master at reading emotions, of discovering and exploiting weaknesses, probably how it had attained such a high position.

"That is correct, Saiyajin, though I have far greater powers than that, far greater than you have ever seen. But that is not why I called for you, I have a new mission for you, a mission in the mortal realm; and when you have succeed in it, you shall remain there, alive and with all the power you had before your untimely death." At this, Vegeta stood up and stared unabashed at his Master; alive, to be alive again he would do anything, slain an army of broo demons, rip the very fabric of time and space.

"No, nothing quite so drastic as that, actually I only need you to collect something for me, a bride."

"A bride? You expect me, the greatest warrior of my line, to play matchmake … Ahh!" the Saiyajin screamed as a single tongue of flame surrounded his body and eating away at what was left of his soul. Falling again to his knees, he writhed in pain as those in the tiles had done for all eternity. The clicking of footsteps rang through his ears as he felt the low vibrations against his cheek. Gasping for some sense of composure, he found himself once again upright, though under a power not his own. Rising his tired eyes towards his Master, he went stock still as he found himself looking into the bluest eyes he had ever beheld.

"Do not question me, you worthless maggot. If I wished, you could be suffering in the lowest pits of Hell, have you skinned alive and made into a rug; never forget that fact. I do not just wish for any woman, idiot, I wish for this one, this mortal human female; she is special, the rarest of her kind." Vegeta could only nod a slight agreement, amazed at what he saw before him. Surrounded by a nimbus of the purest white light was the image of a woman, an angel might be closer to it, a blue haired goddess, with eyes so deep a man could drown in them.

"I vision isn't she, actually she is more like a vision made flesh. She is goodness, innocence, purity, a truly pure soul and I want her, and you will get her for me."

"H, How can I possibly do that? If she is mortal she cannot be brought to the afterlife, and if what you say about her purity is true, even if I was to kill her for you, her soul would enter heaven. As powerful as I am I cannot fight against the very laws of the afterlife. How am I suppose to fulfil your request?" The Lord of Hell smirked sinisterly and Vegeta once again found himself on the floor. Ignoring the pain that rushed through his tortured body, he stood proudly before his Master, his strong, sharply defined face highlighted by the flames of living fire that surged around his body, making his look like the Black Angel of Death he had become. Originally he had hated that name, the chance comment by a demoness after he had ripped her army of Sucubius to shreds. When he laid the head of the rebel army at his master's feet, the harpy had asked for the name of the dark, angel faced demon that had brought death to her undefeated forces. The name had stuck, through the taunting of his enemies, well while they lasted, the pleas of those souls that he had destroyed, and in the moans of those women he had taken as the spoils of his conquests.

"Do you not think I planned this out completely, that I did not think of every angle, every possible outcome? Tonight, you will assume your original form in the mortal realm, find this woman and get her to come in contact with this liquid; make her drink in, touch it, rub it on her skin, anything you must do. After that you merely have to kill the woman, something I know you are proficient at. Her life for yours; wonderfully easy is it not?"

"What, if I might ask, my Lord, does this potion do?"

"I didn't think a warrior such as yourself would understand the powers of the great wizons and what they can create. It is a mixture that, among other things, defiles the soul, overwhelming the purity within it. The potion is for the most part superficial though; the effects will eventually wear off and once the soul has gone through the check-in station, you will be granted your life. Does that meet with your approval, 'your highness'?"

Vegeta's expression remained as stony as always while his mind reeled with the planning and effort that had been put into bringing this simple girl into the den of evil. He could never understand the motives of others sometimes; no one, certainly no woman was worth this amount of effort. There was a degree of satisfaction that came with possessing their bodies but they were only that, a means to a physical end.

"If I may ask one final question, Master, why have you granted me such an important duty, one great enough that you might grant me my life again?"

"Please, do you think I would trust such an important mission to some one such as Nappa; I want this mission done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Besides, what woman could resist the Dark Angel of Death?" the Demon king laughed out, before he bid the Saiyajin Prince away. Vegeta growled in great displeasure at the use of that name. Oh well, what did it matter, all he had to do was kill one woman and he would once again be the Prince of all Saiyajins, the living Prince, and the very universe would tremble under his feet.

***

Finally, Bulma mentally sighed as she walked through the store to her own secret little corner of the store, taking the break she so desperately needed. If it wasn't the floor manager harassing every five minutes, threatening her with reduced pay, firing and dental torture, it was yet another male customer coming to her. Never a nervous or shy child by nature, she had all but shrank away from the male population now. It had never been like that, until the incident, until Yamcha.

No, she chided to herself; I can't think about this now, I can't. Passing by another group of males, she noticed several looking her over approvingly, their interest and ultimate intent was clearly drawn out for any to see and it made Bulma walk all the faster, taking a detour through the always crowded women's wear section. Her hurried procession slowed as she looked over the hundreds and hundreds of colours and fabrics and styles that hung before her on the racks and shelves. Multitudes of colours, reds, blues, pinks, purples, blacks, whites, greens, golds, tans, patterns, mixes, checks, strips, plain, poke-a-dots, and colours with no pattern at all surrounded her, making her feel like her old, confident take charge self. It had been a dream to work here, to work with the fabrics and fashion that she knew and loved so well, at least one of them. One of the many plans and schemes she was always dreaming, always thinking up, the hundred possibilities in front of her. Also so long ago, well not any more than a year now but a whole life time ago, when she was a different person. She watched warily out of the corner of her eye the movements of Gisele's lackies and the little slut goddess herself. Bulma only ever truly came to look at the world she had shut herself out of, and she stared unabashed as the corners of her eyes sparkled. There, draped over the artificial curves of a headless mannequin was the most beautiful, sexy dress she had ever seen. That light green, form fitting mini dress, it had in itself symbolised her old life, her old sense of absolute success. Feeling the soft, smooth luxurious fabric underneath her fingertips, she pictured herself in the beautiful dress, the light pale colour a compliment to her own pale peach skin. She could almost see herself now, wearing that dress, a look of complete superiority over people like Gisele and her band of followers, careless and free with Yamcha on her arm. Her fantasy took a dark turn as he pushes her aside and walks up to her nemesis, take the tramp in his arms and kisses her. Blinking back into reality, she forced herself back into a rack of black blazers as two of the women's wear clerks walked by.

"Kami, what a beautiful dress. I could work a month and never make enough to buy that. I heard Yamcha is going to buy it for Gisele, as an engagement gift. Damn, that woman has all the luck."

"Yeah, at least she has a man, unlike a spoiled little rich girl we know. Well, what do you expect, when you dress like she does, doesn't even put out? Good thing she has her 'man' in the leather department, she probably couldn't handle a real one, has to practice on a fake one." The two women laughed at the insensitive comments as they walked away and a knot formed in Bulma's throat. It had only been six months ago, but still she was being punished, her scars still felt as new and raw as if it were yesterday. Not caring whether they knew she was there or not, if they were saying those awful things for her benefit or just out of their own spitefulness, she emerged from her hiding place and walked out with all the dignity her wounded pride could muster. She didn't really know where she was going, her body as if lead by instinct walked through the rose inspired décor of the womens sections, to the more earth toned, more masculine section of the store; until the pleasing smell of leather assaulted her nostrils and she was standing in front of the jacket display. Sad, wistful sapphire stared up into dark, mysterious obsidian and she smiled, a warmth comforting her as if she had found a kindred soul and she sat upon the pressed wood platform; her hand sliding over the leather of his shoes. It was okay now, she thought, wrapping her arms around her legs; you're safe here, you can let it out.

Looking at the light forest green painted walls of Shordar department store, she wondered what had ever really inspired her to dream of this husk that had become her life, had inspired her to come to Tokyo in the first place. She couldn't even remember why she really had come, the reason was secondary to the journey; the journey itself had been reason enough. It didn't matter, it was exciting and new and not West Capital. Here she could be wild and free, be Bulma Briefs, not Dr. Briefs daughter, not the heiress of Capsule Corporation, not tied down to the trappings of some life that was not of her own design. So she told her parents her intent, her mother finally convincing her father of the necessity of this new adventure, and she left for the unknown. Smiling at the memory of her lost recklessness, of her total abandonment to the freedom that she had finally seized. Finally she would be free, to make her own mistakes, succeed at her own triumphs, discover herself, find out who she was. And with that confidence, the knowledge absolute that she could not fail, she had walked into the largest and most famous department store in all of Tokyo and demanded a job. She had originally wanted women's fashions, her natural flare and sense of style making her gravitate towards the possibility of becoming a designer, the Coco Chanel of her time. Think big and plan accordingly as her mother would say, she decided she should get her feet wet in the retail end of the business, make her contacts, meet the designers, find out if this was the life she had wanted. Walking out of the personnel office with a new job, she was in a daze until she smacked right into a wall of pure muscle.

"Mr. Yamcha, are you okay, this stupid clod didn't hurt you I hope?"

"No, no, not at all Mr. Bakna, don't think anything of it. Actually I think you got the worst of it, Miss?"

"Briefs, but you can call me, Bulma."

"Maybe I will, Bulma." Yamcha replied back, that suave cool confidence of his reply sent shivers down her spine as he righted her, his warm strong arms wound around her body.

"Please, Mr. Yamcha, the photo shoot is in half an hour and you haven't even gone through make-up yet." The two suddenly became aware of the other occupant of the room and the man who she had walked into, Yamcha?, let her go and walked away, giving her a good-natured wink before he and the annoying floor manager disappeared around the corner. He did call on her, three days later on her first day of work, and asked her out to dinner, then the next day and the next day and the next. It was about a month before one of her new friends at the store joked with her that she had stolen the heart of the top model in the marketing department and what beautiful children they would have together. It was then that Bulma convinced herself that she had truly found happiness; that this life; a good job, a successful husband and beautiful children were all that she wanted, all that she had read about in her books and magazines. After six months together they finally decided to move in with each other, that's when it all came crashing down. Their friends and co-workers had come to Yamcha's apartment, now both his and her own, to celebrate their next step, and the possibility of an even greater one. There had been music, dancing, stories, joking, laughs and alcohol, lots and lots of alcohol. Never one to drink herself, she nursed her glass of Plat d'Or as she watched Yamcha with his male friends, drinking one beer after another, flashing her loving and then lustful looks across the room. Frightened only for a moment, she ignored the gut feeling in her stomach and allowed herself to believe in the life she was living, ignoring that voice in her head that told her was this life wasn't all it appeared. Leaving the party for a minute to grab something from her new bedroom, she looked over at Yamcha's king sized bed, tonight would be her first time, now that she had finally found someone she could truly give herself to. Blushing at the thought of having sex for the first time, she gasped when she found she was not alone, that Yamcha was right behind her, swaying just slightly under the influence of the alcohol he had consumed. Wrapping his arms around her, she felt nervous when his hands grabbed at her buttocks, and he forced their bodies together.

"Oh god, Bulma, you look so good; I just want to rip off your clothes and …"

"Yamcha, are you okay, I mean you've had a lot to drink and we have guests. Don't worry, I'll still be here tonight, I just want this to be special, it, it'll be my first time." Bulma confessed, hoping that reason would win out with him and he would let her go. Instead of letting go, Yamcha's hands travelled all over her back, pushing her closer into his embrace and forcing the air from her lungs.

"You are such a damn tease, wearing those clothes, that perfume, lying to me about having done it before. Do you get your kicks out of taunting men? You know, the boys were right, I should just have you now, pass you around when I'm finished with you." His speech slurred from the large quantity of alcohol he had drank that night, he slammed his mouth against hers, the gentle passion he had always shown her replaced with animal lust, his tongue slithering through her lips to invade her mouth. Fighting against him with all her strength, it just made him more excited and he started ripping at her clothes, his hand plunging down the neckline of her dress to squeeze at her breasts. Lifting her off her feet, securing her legs to stop her from kicking him in his rapidly tightening groin, he threw her on the bed and started his groping again. Bulma pounded weakly on the heavy body on top of her, tears streaming down her face as the hard reality of the lie she had been living was crashing down around her. Yamcha's hand left her chest as he grunted in pain, yanking her arms almost to the point of breaking her arms and holding them against the comforter.

"I love it when they play hard to get, just means they want it harder." he husked into her ear before he bit her lobe and started to lick a path down her neck. His hips and hands were busy as well as he thrust his hips against her own, simulating what he wanted to do to her while his hands ripped off her underwear.

"Yamcha, if you don't let me go I swear they will never find your body. My father is the richest man in the world and if I wanted I could make you disappear." she cried out as he was about to rip more of her clothing. She sobbed in silent relief as she felt his presence leave her, his weight no longer pressing against her, only to look into eyes filled with disgust.

"You lying bitch, what is this, am I all part of some sick twisted game. You're some millionaire, not trillionaire's daughter and yet you live like a shop girl, make friends with the commoners. What am I, just a way to get at daddy? Get out of my sight!" he screamed out and she ran; her arms clutched around her tattered clothes as she ran to the safety of the main living room, to the safety of the crowds. Crying into the embrace of one of her best friends, she gasped again as Yamcha walked back into the room, glaring daggers at her. One of his friends grabbed him in an arm lock but he shock the man off and at the top of his lungs yelled out of what she was; a spoiled little rich girl who had fooled them all, a manipulative bitch who had used all of them as some pawns in her game. It nearly made her want to cry out again as the eyes which had looked so kindly on her once now stared at her in contempt, lines of 'let her dry her tears with dollar bills' pierced the suffocating silence. Not knowing what to do, she wrapped her arms tighter around her friend, only to have them ripped off, repeating the same line as all the others had, the one she had heard all her life. Running out the door, she didn't stop until she reached her apartment, tears falling from her eyes so hard she felt she could drown the world in her sorrow.

Amazingly, she went back to work the next day, only to find Yamcha in the arms of the new head of women's fashions, kissing her while the woman who had claimed to be Bulma's friends looked on in smug triumph. Her dreams and spirits crushed, the once vibrant, beautiful woman that she was shrank back into herself, hiding her true self from the world, shrinking away from anyone who tried to get too close. It had been later that day that Mr. Bakna had joyously told her of her demotion to men's shoes and that Gisele had gotten the post that she had so desired. She couldn't take it anymore, had ran through the store, not caring where she was going, until she finally collapsed in front of a display and looked up into the most handsome face she had ever seen. The newest mannequin in the store, with tall spiky hair, wide shoulders, strong arms and his eyes, dear Kami, eyes that could hold your soul, promised her the world, and she felt a kindrance as she had felt with no other. In the ocean of her sadness he was a light, a rock and she held on to him, telling him her secrets, desires, the fantasies that ran through her head, and there he stood, not saying a word, giving her the silent comfort she needed. Even now, her heart now healing, she felt the magnetic pull, a compulsion to come to this spot and sit by his side, bask in the presence of some one who would listen to her pain and didn't tell her to go dry her tears with her money. If she had but one wish now, it would be that he would come to life, that she could thank him for the comfort that he had given her, show him the love that she felt for him. Oh god, I'm going crazy, professing love to a mannequin, maybe I am screwed up like everyone thinks. Why can't you be real, I think I would give up everything to have one night in your arms. She sighed to herself; it was just too hard letting that last dream, the dream of a perfect love. Checking her watch, she realised dispassionately that her break would be up soon and she would have to return to her post, just to be harassed by that tub of lard, and live in fear of every man who comes near her, fear of being hurt again like Yamcha had hurt her. What did it matter, it was hopeless, life had lost its fire for her, even her body ached from the struggles and defeats. Actually, she did feel tired, an unnatural lethargy overwhelming her and all she could think of was finding a soft warm place and sleeping for eternity. Thinking that was a good idea, she took off the long bulking sweater that she used to hide herself in and curled up behind the crevice between the display platform and the wall. The sight of her 'man' the last thing she beheld before her heavy eyelids shut and she feel asleep.

***

"But I want to go out." a small whiny female voice rang out, "Yamcha, you're always working, I want to go out dancing, and maybe go back to your place." Gisele purred into his ear and grabbed at his crotch, trying to get him to come with her and not stay over night in the store doing the next catalogue's fashion shoot.

"I'm sorry, baby but you know I have to finish this shoot. Tomorrow, if you're still in the mood, we can do whatever you want, as long as it ends here." Yamcha said, grabbing her ass and rocking his hips against hers, teasing her as she had him, hoping that she might be interested in something nice and quick. Smiling back up at him, she slid down his body, rubbing her own curvaceous one against his. Stopping at his groin, she began to nuzzle her face against him, lightly nipping him through the material of his pants.

"Gisele." Yamcha moaned, reaching down to hold her head while he began to unzip his fly.

"Nope, not yet. You'll have to take me out before you get that. Have fun tonight." the blond haired woman purred as she walked out, her skin-tight red cat suit giving the shocked man a perfect view of her figure.

"Ah, Mr. Yamcha, sir, they're ready for you in wardrobe." his assistant called out, and Yamcha nodded, hoping no one would notice the way his pants bunched out in a certain area.

***

Opening up her sleep filled eyes, Bulma yawned and stretched, wondering when her bed had gotten so hard and uncomfortable. Snuggling up again into a little ball, she absently looked up at the back of a perfectly built man. Wait a minute, man, there's a man here in her bedroom, oh my God, it's going to happen again. Leaping to her feet, pain shot through her as she connected with the shelf of a display case. When did I have a shelf over my bed, and when did I start sleeping on the floor? Oh Kami, I fell asleep in the store, it must be way passed closing; I must be locked in. Groaning at her luck, she rubbed her head, trying to assess the situation. Could anything else go wrong today, she moaned to herself and slid against the wall, wanting to let out the tears she seemed to shed everyday since her life had taken the turn for the worst. When had fate become so cruel to her, had taken out so much punishment on her? Looking over into one of the mirrors on the wall, she stared at the person who looked back at her, when had she gotten so thin and pale? When had she stared wearing her hair in that awful bun, hiding her eyes behind a pair of glasses? Her clothes, rumpled and messed up from having slept in them made her look older, matronly, well not like her mother certainly. When had she forgotten herself, how had this happened, when had she let Yamcha, Mr. Bakna, Gisele, all of them win against her? Her dreams had died long ago, but they were just dreams, spirits of the past and she had to grow up, not hide away from the world. She couldn't get out, she'd definitely trip the alarm, get caught, possibly even arrested; how would that look in the tabloids? No, she thought, mischievous smile on her too often sad face, I'm alone in a store with some of the most beautiful clothes in the world and I'm going to play. With that she flashed a winsome smile at her static companion and ran down towards woman's fashions, a certain mini dress, matching boots and accessories beckoning to her.

***

Looking at herself in the same mirror, Bulma grinned like the Cheshire Cat at her appearance; it truly was like night and day. After running through the store, grabbing up clothes and make-up and accessories, she now could truly smile at herself, seeing the person she had known existed in her smiling back. She had been right, the dress fit like a dream, the refined cotton weave graceful hugging the curves of her figure beautifully; that soft light green made her skin look creamy, taking emphasis of the white pallor of her skin. On her feet and running up to just below her knees were a pair of thick-heeled black bitch boots. Small trinkets and gems sparkled around her neck and wrist, completely the illusion, illusion made real. She couldn't help but giggle at her appearance, it was what she had always dreamed of, that ideal that she had held in her mind for so long; she finally was what she had always dreamed she would be, a sexy, confident, independent woman. Giving a slow turn to examine every angle, she gave a devilish look into the mirror before she stepped onto the platform and into the opened arms of her 'beloved'. It saddened her a little that those arms that looked so strong could not hold her or those lips so firm couldn't kiss her. She had in her times of soul searching and confession with him invented a life for him, several in fact when the details became too much for one. It did really matter, she thought, turning in his loose hold as she swayed her body against his own, as if dancing with the mannequin.

"I just want to thank you so much for everything you've done for me, even if it was just standing there. I still wish you were alive though" she said, and she kissed the cold plastic of his lips. Bringing her arms around his torso, she hugged the body that felt made out of stone and yet, there was a warmth there, like bodily heat flowing from his plastic body to her own of flesh and blood. Kissing his cheek, she dismissed the warmth that brushed against her lips as a figment of her imagination; wish something real enough and it will come true, she chided to herself. Removing herself from a grip that almost seemed to tighten in the last moment, she looked about the darkened store for something new to explore. This was an adventure, something she had never shied away from and now that she had found a part of herself again she was going to enjoy herself.

***

Of all the reactions he had every received, the looks of fear, mockery, anger, rage, denial, amazement and lust, that was the weirdest. After waiting for his master to deem him 'ready to go', more like an excuse as to why he could not leave now, he found himself in the arms of a woman, the woman, and, and she kissed him. It was a toss up whether he was knocked over or stunned stupid by the fact that he entered the mortal realm with a beautiful, desirable woman pressing herself against his body with no fear, kissing him as she would a departing lover. Even after she had given him that peck on the cheek and had extradited herself from his approaching grip and walked away, he was dazed by what had happened. How long ago had he died? Wait, the Master said five years, he's about the only one who knows the passage of time, how could the universe change so much in five years, or maybe it was just women, probably the latter of the two. She might have gotten the drop on him but she was only a woman, a weak one at that, he sneered; barely registering a power level. Allowing the sight he had developed as a warrior of Hell to kick in, he was transfixed by the immensity of light that shone around her; she might be weak in power but her soul was strong, a fire lay in her. He licked his lips of her soft taste off his mouth; she was sweet with just a hint of something else, like a jolt of electricity or fire that burned out of her. No wonder that bastard wanted her as a mate, though he still did not see this desire to keep her soul pure, the body was what he wanted right now, watching her hips and long limbs move back and forth, hardly concealed under the flimsy material of her clothing. Stepping down from his perch, he examined the body that he had awoken in; nice, very nice, he thought, regarding his reflection in the mirror. He didn't know about this Earth clothing though, the black jacket and shirt were fine but the pants, made of the same material as the jacket, felt odd against his sensitive Saiyajin skin. He'd have to find someone who could produce his old battle suits, and a way off of this planet when his mission was finished. Smiling again at her retreating form, a plan began to hatch in his mind, going back to the moment of his awakening. She had whispered something in his ear right before that kiss, just as he was coming out of the dimensional flux, she wished he would come to life. He had finally found a way to get back at that sadistic asshole and still retain his life. He wished for a pure soul did he? Well, I guess there wouldn't be anything wrong if I played around with her for a while, she even wished for his presence. The sinisterness of his thoughts echoed through his mind and he ignored the sweetness of her kiss and the beauty of her light. He was finally free after five years of torment; it was time to hunt.

***

Bulma stalked though the rows and rows of racks full of clothes, playing commando against an enemy she couldn't see, only pictured in her mind. Holding up her imaginary paint gun, she had never really been one for violence, she stalked the prey that had all but crushed her. Keeping low to the ground, she moved like a tigress in the jungle, her prey, the slutious phonica in sight. Leaping out of her hiding place, she fired a quick pretend shot against her nemesis, hitting Gisele between her surgically enhanced cleavage and rolled out of the way, firing off a quick round into Yamcha's groin before retreating back into the safety of the metal and cloth jungle. She had yet to find the elusive but lumber Bakna hippo, or the chatter monkeys of the ladies evening wear and lingerie departments. She laughed out loud at the sight she must be making, the show the security guys will get when they see this one. Well it can't be any worse than when Gisele and whoever she was with at the time would do it in the changing rooms, or the time Bakna spilt hot coffee on himself and started running through the store like a demon was after him. Brushing off the feeling that she was being watched, and by something more present than the security cameras, she returned to her hunt, which might change into a hunt for food soon, she realised as her stomach began to growl from her missed dinner.

"Hmmm, mighty hunter need grub. And the food hall might just have some of that Swiss chocolate in." I hope dad won't mind me using the credit card he gave me, she thought, but when was the last time she had felt so alive, so what she always wanted to be. Giving a quick scan of the area, always looking out for the slippery customer anacondas, she ran up the dead escalators with delight flashing in her ears. Hands passing over the polished metal of the escalator handrail, she made a mental note of coming back downstairs, preferably by sliding down the railing like she had seen in too many movies. Swearing she felt the caress of warm breath against her cheek, she looked around quickly. She was master of all she surveyed in on the second floor and as she liked it, it was empty, not a soul around but her own. Dismissing the thought as her over active imagination, she continued warily through the store for game, all the while drawing closer to her ultimate goal of chocolate.

The unseen member of this little hunting expedition, the only one that could not be seen that was actually there, he chuckled, melted in with the shadows around him, another trick he had learned in the after life, along with the ability to disrupt electronic equipment. He had thought she insane when she began this little game, slinking around and rolling around the floor like a wild thing, her hands at the ready to fire a pistol that did not exist; and for this woman the master was willing to do all of this? Grabbing tiny snippets of her thoughts he had finally discerned the reasons for her actions; a hunt, he smirked at the thought that while she hunted her imaginary foes he was hunting her for real. It was truly odd watching her, that glowing nimbus around her never dimmed, only changed in hue from wondrous white to sky blue to passion red, her emotions plain for him to see. Right now she glowed green, the colour of her aura reflecting the adrenaline that all but ran pure though her veins. He must admit he was growing rather enchanted with her silly but engaging game, the innocently seductive motions of her body coupled with her infectious fire had made him stay within a few feet of her side since he had set out to find her. He noticed her light change once again, flashing between green and blue, with that ever-present white glowing around her, never making him forget what she was, why he was here. Ignoring the nagging at the back of his mind, he felt it was time for him to have his own fun with her as her guard was slowly coming down. Using the slightly influence of his ki, the dead air in the huge room began to circulate, blowing her hair around her face. Allowing the air to move and blow in certain directions, he forced it through the various holes and crevices, producing the sounds almost like that of a jungle and she reacted just as he had wished. Jumping back from the main path towards her chocolate, she began to back up against the wall, fear and excitement evident in her blue eyes and he raised a half smile, wondering what she would come up with to handle this. His eyes stared in shock as she began to shoot at everything in sight, madly, wildly, not at all like the seductive huntress he had been stalking. Rolling once more when the noise began to rise in volume, she came face to face with herself again, staring into eyes that suddenly seemed too lost, like she had been caught in the midst of a wonderful game and been told she was being silly. The noise continued to rise again, higher and higher in volume until an orgasm of sound enveloped her. 'This isn't you either' he heard the thought that was not his own echo through his mind, her eyes began to sparkle in the dim light as he approached his prey, invisible to her weak human eyes. 'You're not this person either, in the morning you'll wake up and realise that you've made a fool of yourself. You're just an image of some dream, always to be held back by Yamcha and that night. You can't truly be like this, what if you get hurt again, what if someone succeeds; you're too weak.' Her words cut through his mind, now unable to stop the one sided communication. You're wrong, a side of him he had thought was long buried yelled out, but she could not hear. 'You should have known you would always be alone, the shadow of your wealth blinds people to what you are, not that that was ever anything', he was growing closer, every closer to his prey. Stopping within an inch of her back, he watched transfixed as she raised that imaginary gun and fired at her image.

"You were never meant to be either, you're not the real me." she said, her voice shaken by the emotion of her words. Unable to hold back his presence, the Saiyajin Prince did something would never in a million years and he revealed himself and began to light the area around him with his ki.

Bulma stood shocked, utterly speechless as the most wondrous of lights formed behind her, all rather thoughts gone as she stared amazed at the light. Gasping in shock, she felt that warm breath against her cheek and a warm hand encircle her waist, bringing her up against a body as unrelenting as steel.

'If you wish, I will show you what you truly are.' a voice so deep and calm rang through her mind and she nodded, the madness that had inflicted her overwhelming her now as she allowed herself to be held against a body of a male she did not know. Not resisting in anyway, she heard the gentle buzzing of the zipper on the back of her dress slide down and the hand on her stomach clutched at the cloth of her dress, pulling it down until it pooled in a green pile on the floor. She dared not look at her half naked body, shame at her insecurities blinding her, causing more tears to sparkle in her eyes. 'Do not look away', the voice called out again in her mind and she felt a comfort in that voice, in the strength and gentleness she reamed from his words. 'Look at yourself, woman', he commanded of her, and she did, knot in her throat, seeing the nearly bare true her.

"Please, I can't." she pleaded, wishing to run at the thought of intimacy, of having to go through anything like that night again. The man's only response was to undo the clasp of her black bra and slide it down her arms, along with lightly tearing the silk underwear from off her hips. Closing her eyes now in complete shame and fear of what she would see, she wondered vaguely why she was not scared or afraid of the being around her, had allowed him to undress her. Those soft, soothing words filled her head again and her apprehensions about the man went with them; he was not something to fear, feeling almost as a kindred to him. 'Look at yourself, woman.' he commanded of her again and she opened her eyes, and gasped. Her body was surrounded by the whitest of lights, pure and glowing and beautiful in its radiance and behind her, oh Kami, it was him, more magnificent than she could have dreamed. She had never felt so beautiful in her life, and when his hands began to move against her bare skin she gasped again, as he made her feel beautiful.

Vegeta lowered his head to her bare shoulder, nipping and kissing her soft skin before burying his head in her unbound blue hair to inundate himself with her intoxicating smell. What was wrong with him, why did he care what she thought of him, or herself? He wished only to possess her body for a short time to satisfy his own physical needs and to take one last stab at the creature that had destroyed his dignity for the past five years. He had undressed her and allowed her to see her as he saw her to confuse her, to make her easier to manipulate and control. And, as he began to feel her supple young skin under his palm, he knew it was all a bold-faced lie. No, he mentally whipped himself, you will not be weak, you will not give in, you have never given in to a mere woman. Stroking higher up to brush the underside of her breasts, she moaned deliciously at his touch and he began to explore her body more intimately, one hand caressing the untouched skin of her breasts, the other passing over the unexplored places of her body. She continued to lightly moan, sensations never known and beyond anything she had ever dreamed skimmed up and down her body and she welcomed it; the light of her body deepening to a vivid rose, indicating her desire. The subtle heat pattern of her body changed and he slipped his hand down her hip and parted her thighs, his finger slipping into her womanhood, tasting her arousal off her skin as he felt the silky wetness between her thighs. Kissing and licking her shoulder, he couldn't get enough of the taste of her, the feeling and sounds and aura of her body infesting his soul, that wonderful white light encompassing him. Not knowing the whats and wheres and whys of his actions, he rubbed his finger against her entrance and she groaned, her body quaking with desire. Falling back against his body, her own hands became active and held his head against her neck, stretching her lithe body against his own Adonis like physique. Seeing her eyes closed, he whispered out again huskily into her ear.

"Look at yourself, woman." Somehow through the pleasured haze that she had found herself drowning in she opened her eyes, and whimpered again at the sight before her eyes. Her blue eyes were half lidded, while her cheeks were the same soft rose as the light that surrounded her, her body warm and soft and beautiful under his touch and she felt truly desirable. Turning in his steel grasp, shaking lightly with the violence of her emotions, she took his proud, angular face between her hands and kissed his mouth, wishing to share the fire that raged around her body; have it meld and mix with his own. Her hands brushed under his shirt, against his muscular back, revelling of his essence around her, the solidity of him, how he would hold her, making her feel safe and warm and protected; all the things her money could not. Parting her lips at the deepened pressure against her mouth, he stroked at her mouth as he had her body, and groaned at the taste. Following his lead into waters unknown, she slipped her own tongue into his mouth and allowed her tongue to graze his teeth, his mouth like a narcotic or aphrodisiac to her newly awakened sexuality. Breaking the kiss, she breathed against his mouth, as her nervous, smoky eyes burned into his own hard intense stare.

"I want you to have me." she said, no guilt or shame in her voice as there had been but a few moments ago when she shot her image. Like driven by some force greater even then his own will, Vegeta gathered the willing woman in his arms and levitating a few feet before the floor, flying towards the area with the hundreds and hundreds of beds, wishing to do this the proper way. Finding the largest one on the far edge of the giant crowded room, he set her down on the bed and just gazed at her, amazed by what he saw. His blue haired goddess lay on the sheets, her sapphire eyes opened and staring into his soul, beckoning him to come to the light, to surround himself in her, wrap himself in her embrace and never let go. Being tentative for the first time in his life, he raised his hand up leg to her mid thigh, savouring the feeling of her damp skin against his palm before he felt the top of her boots and teased a fit of shivers from his 'victim'. Wishing to caress the curves of her calves, he was almost hard pressed to remove her boots, not wanted to ruin the erotic image of her wearing nothing but those boots and the jewelled penchant that hung nestled in the valley of her breasts. Sliding the boots off her, his hand travelled back up her body, his touch like that of a whisper against her skin. His hand was soon replaced by his mouth, his breath caressing the now too sensitive skin of her legs, kissing a path from her knee up to her inner thigh. Parting her legs to allow himself entry, he blew at her swollen flesh, smiling at the soft moans he inspired in her and every time she made that sound, the sound of expressed pleasure, he would try harder to elicit it again. Burying his face between her legs, he couldn't help but smell her scent, crave the taste of her again. Dipping his tongue into her womanhood, savouring that sweet, wonderful taste of her as his ears filled with her moans and gasps while he lapped at her juices. Holding her shaking hips steady, telling from the tension in her body and her hurried cries that she was near the edge of something she had never experienced, something only he could give her and he lapped at her again, drinking from her as if asking for pardon. Reaching the point of no return, his mouth left her centre, replaced by his hand to tease her over the edge, and he watched her, in awed fascination, as she climax against his hand, screaming in ecstasy to the god of this world, the light surrounded her body growing in intensity.

"Open your eyes, woman." he commanded for her once again and as before she complied, her motions slow like that of a dreamer, and she looked lost to him, though she had did have the very will to oppose him, not that she wished to do so. Kneeling over her, still clothed in his human garb, save the jacket, the little minx shocked him once again as she raised herself off the bed and kissed his mouth. She wrapped her soft arms around his torso while her tongue pushed lightly against his mouth, asking him as boldly as she could to open his mouth and let her taste him as he had her. Then as he had done to her, she tasted him, exploring his mouth with that innocent sexuality that she was now just discovering and it took all he had not to moan out. Her once stationary hands found life, caressing the material of his clothing until she reached the edge of his shirt and began to pull on the edge of it. Understanding her meaning, he pulled the shirt over his head, reluctant to have to break the contact between them. Hearing her gasp again, he stared at her eyes; the cloudy haze of lust pushed back at the sight of his naked chest, love and sympathy shining in those eyes and through her aura.

"You are so beautiful." she whispered to him, and again her hand became active, brushing the thin lines of the scars that criss-crossed his chest. Vegeta had to stifle a moan at her soft touch, but it could not be held back when she began to kiss the corded muscles of his neck and down to his collarbone. His arms began to lose their strength as her lips followed the same path as her fingertips, the rate of his breathing increasing as she brushed her soft lips against his wounds, her mind wishing the pain of those scars away. She moved down his body, kissing and caressing away the pains of his mortal and after life, the warrior who had killed and destroyed more life than he could count held himself above her, helpless against her touch, her purity. He moaned as she rid him of the final impediment between skin to skin contact and felt that nervous desire well up in her again, her aura changing once again. Opening his eyes, he caught her staring at his completely naked state, in awe of his build, the beauty of his form, but frightened at the realisation of what was going to happen, at her inexperience.

"Don't fear, little one." he whispered and his eyes glazed over again as she tentatively touch his manhood, stroking it with almost childish curiosity. Gasping over her, he finally had to remove her hand from him, trying to hold his lust in check at to not frighten her, hurt her. Looking in odd wonder at the woman under him, her soft inviting body caressing his own, calling for him to enjoy and take pleasure in her, he smiled at the uncertain realisation. Wasn't his plan to just use her body, to use her as he had all the others, she was just another woman. No, she wasn't just another woman, not one who saw him as a means to an end, as he had them, saw him as some Dark Angel of Death. She had welcomed him, entranced him, surrounded him in that perfect pure light of her innocence, delighted in him as he had delighted in her. And with that crippling discovery in his mind, he kissed her again, and stiffened as he entered her, holding his mouth against her own as she tried to cry out in pain. Tears streamed down her flush face while he continued to kiss her soft lips, staying stock still until she got used to the presence of him in her. Moving slightly in her, her soft moan of pleasure met his ears and he licked the tear drops off her face and began to move a little faster, keeping his pace to what he hoped she could handle. He bit his lip to hold back his own moans of satisfaction, her long graceful arms and legs winding around his body, pressing him to her, begging him for more. Her warmth beckoned to him, surrounded him, as did her arms and legs and that light, always that light, holding him to her, binding him to her. His skin felt on fire, her nails racked down the solid wall of his back and he kissed her parted lips, wishing for her taste on his mouth again. Higher and higher they went, grasping and clutching and caressing each other, not wishing for the heat to end but approaching a release that might burn them alive. Opening his eyes to behold her in her release, Vegeta felt gasped in wonder at the intensity of the light around them. The blue of his aura mixed with the light of her purity, a purity that had not dimmed in this act, as if the two power were merged into one light and finally it hit him, and it was all he could do not to collapse into her waiting arms, the feelings too much for his shredded soul to handle. With every spasms of her tiny muscles around him he felt more lost to her, the feeling of her all around him more powerful than anything in his very life and he moaned his release. Trembling as the waves of emotions began to subside, he fell back on to the bed and he looked at the beauty in his arms, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and wonder at what he had done to her, the fire he had created with her. Letting her lids fall shut, she snuggled into his side and feel asleep in his embrace, at peace with herself for the first time in a long time.

Oh Kami, what had he done, what had happened; he was suppose to defile this woman and kill her, she was his ticket back to the land of the living and instead, he, he. No, he could not think those words; those things weren't supposed to happen to the Saiyajin, let alone their Prince. He was a killer, a monster, he was Death; and all of that died as soon as he looked down at her sleeping face, protection for her well-being overwhelming him. Even her light had not dimmed in their act; the purity of her soul grew all the more brighter, peace and happiness evident in that all encompassing light. Holding her in arms weak and heavy, he tried to convince himself that he had not fallen for some woman, this was not happened, not him. Turning over in the warm sheets of the bed, he searched through the clothes he awoken in to find the vial, the potion. Kami, it was what he had always wanted, the life that had been taken from him to be given back, and yet all he wanted was her arms. No, he thought as he grasped her head between his hands, squeezing lightly on her skull, wishing to kill her, to rid him of this weakness that she had found. Whimpering in her sleep, she began to nuzzle his hand, kissing the skin of his palm, her tongue hesitantly licking his flesh.

"I love you." she whispered before she fell back to sleep, and he bolted from the bed, fear of her and what she represented terrifying him more than any monster, demon or torture ever could. She gasped in her sleep and whimpered at the loss of his warmth but he did not return to her, hiding in the shadows until he could work out what was happening to him. He wouldn't have much time left, he would soon return to the land of the dead and the wrath of his master. But looking over at her, he prepared himself to be sent back to Hell, still tasting her on his lips.

***

Damn that little wench, Yamcha growled as he walked through the darkened store, the shoot had ended almost an hour ago and he had tried to get in touch with Gisele, she if he could get some fun out of her. After hearing the teasing message on her machine a couple of times, he realised that she wasn't going to be dealing with him tonight, had left him very unsatisfied. Hearing a little moan, Yamcha stopped dead in his tracks, trying to discern the origin of the sound and his eyes feel upon Bulma, sleeping naked in one of the beds in the furniture department. Ignoring the questions of what she was doing here and why she was naked, he walked over to her, the smell of sex heavy in the air.

"So you weren't willing to do it with me but you get your jollies right in the store, probably hoping the security guys were watching you to. Oh, I think I'll give them a show they'll never forget."

***

A light sleeper by nature, Vegeta snapped awake at the feeling of another aura in the area, a stained one; not as stained as himself, and the man was walking towards the sleeping figure in the bed. Flickerings of memories not his own rushed through his brain, he knew this man and at the same time he did not, only knew of an evil, selfishness about him. Looking at him with eyes all seeing, he saw the black void of contempt surround this man, the red of lust and anger mixed together, and the Saiyajin Prince's rage began to rise with every step the man took towards that white light. His ears picked up on the promise of pain and perversion and Vegeta snapped, realising who this man was, what he had done to her, what he was going to do. Flying across the room, he barrelled into the man, slamming him against the wall. Curling the small vial in his hand, the enraged warrior punched through the weak flesh, muscle and bone of the human and crushing the vial in his hand, released the deadly mixture into the man's blood stream. His lung punctured, Yamcha couldn't even scream out as he felt his life slipping away, his life flowing into the fading Saiyajin Prince. Giving out one last breathless gasp of pain, the dark haired man went limp in Vegeta's hand and his eyes roiled back into his head. A loud whimper came from the bed and Vegeta looked at the scene around him, what he had done, staring at his mortal hands red with that human's blood. He was alive, truly alive, an enemy of the Lord of Hells, and he had already killed one soul, his forever stained hands never free from the blood of his past. What was he thinking, he could not be with her, even her purity could not overcome the corruption of his soul. He had touched eternity, had felt joy and peace in her arms, had touched her with hands defiled, the darkness of his deeds staining the whiteness of her skin. Turning to face her again, he lifted her body in his arms, feeling the light, low and dim within him glow at the contact and he knew it was never meant to be. The best he could do was to protect her, not to hurt her as he had done to so many others. Shuttering as she wrapped lovely in his embrace, he took off for a place he knew his mind; he headed for home.

***

Waking up in a soft bed, Bulma stretched and moaned, a twinge of pain and the last fading glimpses of a dream passed through her mind. She was in the store, had been locked in and her mannequin had come to life and had, had, oh Kami. Turning over in her bed, she pouted lightly when she realised that she was alone in her own home, it was nothing but a dream, though why did she have this odd feeling between her legs, and why was she naked. Ignoring those questions so early in the morning, she walked unabashed towards the shower, a confidence in herself that she had not felt in months flowing through her veins. Glancing at the mirror she looked in amazement at the small green pendant that she wore around her neck, something she had not gone to sleep with, didn't even own. She had been wearing it in her dream, but that was just a dream, wasn't it?

***

Flying above her apartment building, the Saiyajin Prince sighed as he watched her slip out of her bed, feeling that burning desire for her build when he caught sight of her naked body, happy that she had come to the conclusion that that night was all a dream. She had not seen him kill that man, had no idea of why he was here or what had truly happened and he would not have her know for all the world. After he had delivered her home, tucked her into her own bed and kissed her forehead, he had returned to the store, to destroy the evidence that she or he had been there at all tonight. Putting fire to the bed, sadness at destroying a spot that had brought him such pleasure. After that he destroyed the dead human's body and the security tapes of that day and night, not risking anything that might bring this back to her. He did not want to think of the punishment he might receive if he got caught by the demon lord for the little switch, and in the end he didn't care. He might come back for you, little one, might try to take you again. Do not fear, he thought, before he flew off into the coming morning.

The End?