"And when did you notice the merchandise missing, sir?"

"Well, I, I really couldn't say. With the Christmas rush and the new inventory that's come in over the last few weeks, no one has had time to organise and catalogue. Please, will this be any longer, this is our biggest season."

The detective looked through the gathered mass for the head of his partner, rolling his eyes at the moronic man's comments. Give me a good serial killer or bank robbery any day to this, anything has got to be better than this. Looking through his notes once more, he brought his attention back to the ever nervous man before him.

"If there is anything you can tell us, sir, it would be greatly appreciated. Any idea when you and any of your staff noticed the dress, or the necklace missing?"

"Well, about two days, yes, it must have been. I thought it was just an internal problem, or they had decided to change the displays, something I'm sure Gisele could handle. But why would someone possibly steal a bed and a mannequin?"

"Yes, Mr. Bakna, I know. They only come out around the holidays." The detective said, finally dismissing the stout floor manager and putting his pull attention to finding his partner.

"Krillin, remind me again why we are working this case. Unless that mannequin came to life and started killing people, this doesn't require anything more a simple report and an insurance investigation."

"I would remind you," a deep, hard, and unfamiliar voice rang out in reply to detective Jackson's sarcasm. "That we are investigating a missing persons case, detective. All crimes have clues, and considering that this was the last place that the victim was reported having been seen, it would be the most likely place to check. I'd also think that the fact that the surveillance footage of the night that he went missing is absent from the logs. More intriguing would be the fact that the entire system went down for six hours and yet was fully operational afterwards. I don't know where you got your badge, but in my training we took everything, every possible detail into consideration." A medium built man shouted across the floor of the police filled department store, his voice echoing of the walls of the cavernous room, ending in a low hiss as he approached the large, black skinned homicide detective.

"I don't know what Sherlock Holmes police college you might have gone to, but without direct evidence beyond the word of a jilted girlfriend of a yuppie playboy, this is still a waste of our time." Staring daggers at the new comer, a tiny battle of wills playing out between the conflicting ideologies right in the middle of women's casuals. The officers all around stared to watch the two superiors, their curiosity about the American detective as great as for the unknown man with features like their own. Only one man in group of blue uniforms didn't take notice of the staring contest, reading over his own scribbling hoping that a word or phrase would offer some kind of clue.

"Hey, Ty, I got all I think I'm going to get out of the head of the leather department; unless you have anything else you want to look at I think we should … what the heck is going on?" The smaller detective asked his partner, his attention finally moving from his pad to the situation in front of him. Not struck with the same interest, or partial fear of the junior officers around him, decided to end the little silent grudge match.

"I hate to break it to you buddy, but Detective Jackson already has a wife, unless there's something you haven't told me, Ty." Both men broke their stares and looked over at the impromptu comedian, incredulous looks plastered to their faces; the newcomer sporting a look of viewed horror while Tyrone went from pure rage to a half smirk. Krillin looked pleasantly pleased with himself, hearing a few muffled chuckles behind him now that the tension had been lifted from the room, turning serious now that the mood had lightened.

"If you're finished with the little staring contest, Jackson, I figured we finally question the girlfriend. Hope you brought your tissues, Toen said she was a real crier, almost like she was on command. Gave odds of 1 to 18 that she would make it to the Oscars with that kind of talent, or on stupid pet tricks." Krillin said, smirking at his own comment and the second wave of hushed snickers that followed, as he walked up the dead escalator steps to the victim's dressing room.

"You and your insane television. Fine," Jackson said, completely ignoring his former adversary to walk up the static steps of the escalator, mumbling such words as stupid, wasteful, transfer and Philly Cheesesteaks.

"This would be the girlfriend, Gisele Lee? Isn't that correct, Detective Krillin?" The Sherlock wannabe piped up and ran up to follow the ascending pair, finally breaking the tense tableau. The younger officers broke from their reverie and busied themselves in the appearance of an investigation, all the while listening for more fireworks between the two chief investigators.

"Listen, buddy, I don't know who the hell you are but this is our case so unless you have a signed statement from Mayor Satan that you should be here, just head back to… ." Jackson stopped in mid rant as the mysterious man pulled out a white paper, signed and sealed with the official seal of the police commissioner.

"And a presidential pardon," Krillin shot back, receiving another set of incredulous looks from the two detectives.

"Sorry, just wanted to see what else he would come up with to try to take our case, what there is of it, away from us. Fancy documents aside, I don't remember that badge number at the 508; you have a name?"

Smirking at the victory he had finally won over at least one of the detectives, the man bowed low in deep respect to the short bald man, ignoring his taller, larger and very pissed off partner.

"I am Detective Gen Yashimoto, I'm an internal investigator, handling the more 'unusual' cases, I requested this assignment."

"You can't be serious, the act of God case file, half of those cases are nothing more than people's paranoia, or the devil made them do it. Tired of investigating alien abductions?" Tyrone bit back, more annoyed than every at learning the origin of the overgrown cub scout.

"No, but considering that you have no real clues, no leads and a possible murder on your hands, that someone with my particular brand of skills would be of use on a case like this." Yashimoto bit back, still keeping his voice keen and even, some of these guys took the code of the Bushido too far. Tyrone ignored the snide look of the new comer and kept walking through the store, Krillin following close behind, along with the annoying new comer. A robbery call on a Sunday morning and a missing persons report from a dumped girlfriend and this guy's already calling it a murder, what did he do to deserve this. Purposely forgetting his own comments about the wish for something exciting, Detective Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to stay off the tension headache that was building up behind his eyes. This was going to be a long day.

***

Toen didn't give her enough credit, Krillin thought, watching the distraught woman pace across the floor of her former lover's dressing room; if he didn't know better, he would swear the woman thought they were casting agents and not police officers.

"I'm so, sorry, officer, it's just that our last night together was in this room." the walking Barbie doll replied, a series of coughs and shocked looks following that particular comment. Blushing pure red to the top of his head, Krillin looked down at his note pad again, praying that his partners didn't see his embarrassment.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Miss Lee, but if you have any proof that your boyfriend…"

"Husband, Yamcha was my fiancé, we were to marry in a month or two. He would not have just up and left me, he wasn't like that at all." Gisele burst out, the sincerity of her words belied by the dramatic overtones she added to her words, even the tears that now stained her cheeks had been eyedrop induced. Her eyes passing over the short man, she centred them first on the black man, until they landed on Yashimoto and she began the waterworks again full force. If Yamcha thought he could run out on her with some other bimbo she would make sure he got his.

"Please, detectives, I'm a nothing more than a single, working girl who needs a man to care for her and take care of her. I mean, how much does a detective make in a year?" Gisele asked, staring intent on the nicely built Yashimoto.

"Not enough to satisfy you, Miss Lee." Jackson replied, earning a chuckle from Krillin and even a rare grin from the young Yashimoto. Seeing that her act wasn't working, she dried her tears, hoping that they hadn't ruined her make-up, and decided to go at her next target, now it was time for the power of the bitch.

"It doesn't matter, I knew there was no way I could win, not against her."

"Her?" Krillin asked, jotting down a word or two before glancing at the woman.

"Yes, her, his former girlfriend; that calculating whore. I'm sorry to speak so low of a member of my own sex, but there are not words for what she has done, what she's put me through. Not being able to keep him through her own merits, she cursed our relationship, doing every thing that she could to destroy our careers. It is not fair that someone with that much money can just do whatever she wants; she once even threatened Yamcha's life if he didn't dump me and go back with her. Oh Kami, it could have been fault, I loved him so much so she killed him." Damn, wiped away the tears too fast, Gisele thought, trying to force more tears from her overly dry eyes. If she was aiming at Yamcha, she might as well take out that little thorn in her side, that little blue haired bitch deserves everything that's coming to her. Grinning to herself, she again wiped away her none existent tears, with performances like this she would have to call an agent.

"And this woman is?" Krillin asked, still unaffected by the little cry fest before him.

"That little spoiled brat, Briefs; what is her first name? Oh yes, Bulma Briefs."

"Well thank you very much, Miss Lee; if you think of anything else or if something else turns up, please don't hesitate to call the station." Tyrone said, giving the signal to get out to his all too willing partner. Following the lead, Yashimoto walked to the door, taking another once over of the room. Turning back he stared unwaveringly at the woman before him, and frowned, as if displeased with what he saw. Once again outside, the man walked over to the one empty stop in the sea of beds in the furniture department, looking at the emptiness in absolute fascination, fazing out completely from the world around him. It was out there, this wasn't normal, there are just too many powers here to find anything clear; but there is something. He thought stretching out his senses until he felt the answer on the tips of his fingertips.

"Hey, Yashimoto." A voice broke through his concentration and he blinked back into full consciousness, so close and yet so far. Turning, he saw his new partner, the one that wasn't trying to kill him, he thought dryly.

"Hey, it looked like you kinda spaced out there. Ty and I are headed to the guy's apartment to check out some of the girlfriend's leads. If you want to come, besides, the guys from CSU are here to check the place out." Krillin said and Yashimoto reluctantly followed; after so many people had been through that area he would never get a good fix on that again. Looking to the display in the leather department as they pasted through the store, he saw one of the officers pick up a large beige sweater from behind the small platform. Where his senses were blurred before that rang out clear and true at the sight of the lumping wool knit. Gasping to himself at the sight, he tried again to narrow in on what he had felt before, this was becoming a bigger mystery by the moment.

***

"You sent for me, My Lord?" a dark and husky voice, feminine in tone rang through the endless halls as the voluptuous woman knelt before the throne of bone and the winged, grey skinned demon that sat upon it. It had been an eternity since he had called her last, but what difference did that make, time had no meaning in this realm. Bending down lower, knowing that the low cut of her gown would give the demon a perfect view of her breasts; hoping to grab his attention and his favour. Since her capture she had been mistress or lover to nearly all the members of his unholy army, had wrapped nearly all of them around her little finger; all but this man and her dark angel.

"Yes, Daima; I have had a recent rebellion within my ranks, a demon was brought back to life to complete a mission and betrayed me. I wish for you to find them and return him to me." The Demon Lord's blood red eyes flickered over Daima's figure with contempt and he turned away from her. Ignoring the creature before him, he slid off his throne and walked towards the new mirror that now hung in his palace, a single light that glowed out from the infinite darkness that was the walls and ceiling of the structure. Staring at the scarred grey pallor of his skin, his features seemed to change and shift in the mirror, turning from the monstrosity of his usual appearance to the smooth even face of a human. Daima watched the transformation in the reflection of the mirror in awe, her amazement turning to curiosity when the blood red eyes turned deep blue, the masculine face taking on the softer features and angles of a female face. The image flashed for but a moment before Daima's eyes before it was gone, again replaced by the Demon Lord grey skin and blood red eyes. Freezing in her place when those eyes centred on her, Daima lowered her gaze to the floor, a slight smile breaking across her face at the agony of the souls that writhed in agony within the tiles of the eternal palace.

"What exactly is my mission, My Lord? What unfortunate incubus am I to destroy." Daima finally asked, another glance at the mirror confirming that the winged being was still staring at the mirror, his eyes now transfixed on those blue eyes once again.

"Do not speak unless spoken to, or you'll join those in the floor. I wish you to kill the rebel demon, he has now taken a mortal body and while he can be killed, it will not be an easy task. I will give you two weeks to find and kill him, using whatever method you see fit."

"And what, oh gracious one, would be my reward?" Damia replied, she greatly pitied the demon that had encored his wrath. Finally turning from the mirror, the Lord of Hell smirked down at the feminine creature before him. Walking towards her, Damia's green eyes stared in shock at new confidence in the master's face, a complete departure from the detached disdain of before. Stopping in front of her kneeling form, he nodded for her to stand, looking her up and down as he resumed his slow steady pace, circling her body.

"So proud you women are, aren't you?" he whispered in her ear. "It's such a shame your power is not truly your own; so weak, aren't you, Daima?" The golden skinned woman held her peace, trying to keep down the shivering of her body at the latent fear and unconscious seductive power of his voice. The even clink of his boot heels shifted from one ear to another and without warning she was drawn up against that huge inhuman body. "Your power is nothing more than your ability to possess a man's mind, all the while he is taking over your body." Standing stock still against the demon lord's touch, she felt his finger graze her stomach and up through the valley of her breasts, shocked at his touch and then angered at his words. How dare he, she was one of the greatest leaders of her time, leading an army of succubus in the hope of overthrowing the Sovereign of hell. It was all for not, she was defeated by one man, one Saiyajin; those black eyes still burned in her brain. She still remembered when she first had to prostrate herself in front of this creature, had to kneel in defeat under the guise of those blood red eyes, given over the owner of those black eyes as a reward. Even now that memory stung, the sexual power of that one man matching that of his fighting power and she lost to him again, only to be thrown aside and taken as another reward, some other warrior's whore.

"That's right, you are nothing but a whore, made so by that man. I am offering you revenge, Daima, to strike back at the creature that has caused you all of that pain. Your mission is to find the Saiyajin no Ouji and to kill him; he has rebelled against my will, taken something that was mine by right; become fascinated with a woman with a pure soul. I have taken steps to retrieve the woman but I give the task of finding Vegeta to you, my dear. And when you find him, and kill him, he will be your slave to do with as you wish." Daima gasped at the mission he had lain at her feet, the prospect of power over one who had hurt her so. Finally noticing the loss of the winged presence around her she spotted him again, his body turned away from her to stare once again in that mirror, his outstretched wings blocking her view.

"You will leave within the hour, and just remember, I am monitoring you and can recall you whenever I wish. Do not fail me, Daima." he said over his shoulder, sparing her a glance. Bowing once more in reverence, Daima turned and walked away, licking her lips, finally she would have revenge.

***

There was something about the weather, that wild, untamed forces, that reminded her of herself. It seemed that no matter the circumstances that she was in, the weather always reflected her mood, Bulma thought, a warm wild wind, rare for this time of year blowing in her hand, tossing her hair wildly about her shoulders. The usual smell of the downtown, of the city and the stench of exhaust fumes, garbage and people were blown away by the relentless wind; she smiled at the presence around her, wild and free, much like herself now. Four days ago, with a confidence she didn't know she possessed, she quit, walked away, left the petty world of that store and the stigma that it had painted on her soul with it. Mr. Bakna, ever the comprising individual, told her she could leave right away and to not expect a reference, she didn't even look back, cutting the last tie. Smiling again, she let the warm wind surround her, looking up into the grey sky, so close to her real mood it was scary. Her troubles and heartaches, they would never go away, like that thick dense cover of clouds, the wind could blow as hard as it wanted but the clouds were always there, too thick and heavy for a simple good mood to get rid of. Of course, clouds also brought the promise of rain with them too, she thought, as if she hadn't cried enough; the weather again responding in its own ironic way as the clouds opened up and the rain fell in torrents upon her head. Why did this sort of stuff always happen to her; the carefree power of the wind now an addition to her misery, whipping the cold water against her face. A cold draft gripped her body and for a second she froze, caught in midst of a déjà vu, not understanding the why and how of her fear, but it froze her blood all the same. The light grey sky turned dark with the ensuing rain, the storm that whipped and blew around her body and she began to shiver in fear, frightened by the knowledge that this had happened before. The wind blew hard against her ears, the rush of the rain joined together, until a sound took form in her mind. The sound began a moan and the moan became a voice, growing stronger and clearer with each now hurried step she took towards her apartment.

"I will find you, pure one." the wind finally whispered into her ear, a loud husky sound that ripped through her consciousness and Bulma screamed, terrified and ran blindly through street near her building only to collide against something, falling to the hard wet pavement. A scream erupted from her lips, only to be echoed by another voice, high pitched and feminine but definitely not her own. Looking up, she saw a red haired woman rubbing the side of her head, her eyes shut against the pain of the sudden fall against the pavement.

"I'm so sorry, Miss. Please let me help you up." Bulma replied, jumping to her feet and aiding the woman before her, all thoughts of that voice and her fear melting away with concern for the girl. Taking the hand offered to her, the girl pulled herself up, looking down at the state of her clothes.

"It's okay, I should have been looking where I was going." the girl replied, bending down once more to retrieve her bags.

"Please, is there anything I can do, my apartment isn't far from here; if you need to call someone or if you're hurt. I don't mind, really." Bulma said, knowing she must look and sound as pitiful as she felt, her damp clothes and hair now spattered with mud. It was her greatest relief when the girl merely smiled back, green eyes glowing warmly at the offer, chuckling at her dishevelled appearance.

"It's quite alright, I live close by as well, just moved to the city actually, I guess I'm going to have to start watching where I'm going."

"At least let me walk you to your place, to protect you from any other crazy, out of control joggers. I must defend my honour by throwing myself into harm's way for you." Bulma said, mouthing the last few lines as if caught in a badly dubbed Godzilla movie. Despite herself, the girl laughed even harder, allowing to take the company as they now ran down the street towards shelter.

"If you don't mind me prying, what's your name? I mean you're new in town and if you want someone to show you around or help you out, I'll be more than willing."

"Thanks, it's Mona Ingenu, and you would be?"

"Bulma," the blue haired woman smiled as her companion began to slow to a walk. "Bulma Briefs."

Ducking under the cover of the canopy, Bulma looked shocked at the final location in front of the white building. She was jolted out of her momentary lapse by the a loud curse and a grunted reply.

"You idiot, let me in, I just moved in today, I must have left my key in my apartment before I went out. Listen, call the Super if you have to but let me in!"

"No key, no entry." the doorman said, earning another curse from the woman who looked like a midget compared with the over six foot tall man.

"It's okay, Rai, she with me." Bulma replied, producing a key from her purse and walking past the huge man. Glancing back, she noticed a strange glint in his eyes, that was it, she was definitely going paranoid. The thought was quickly forgotten when she heard a loud 'hmph' behind her, a set of footsteps following her through the foyer.

"So I guess we're even now?" Mona's said, finally breaking the silence as they neared the elevator.

"Don't think about it, anything to help out a neighbour against that walking steroid." Bulma said, the two women laughing as they reached the elevator.

***

Producing her keys once more, Bulma opened the door to her apartment and flicked on the lights, the smile she had lost with the coming of the rain had come back with the meeting for her new friend. Friend, it was a word she hadn't used in so long she had almost forgotten what it meant. A little giddy rush went through her at the thought, after the hell that she went through, to find this happiness, this actually feeling of peace, she wasn't alone anymore and the realisation warmed her heart. Well, she might as well try to warm herself up, she thought sarcastically, removing her sodden clothes, clicking on the answering machine as she walked through her bedroom towards the bath.

"Hello, Ms. Briefs, I'm from personnel at Ritman's fashions. We reviewed your resume and decided that you're just not what we are looking for at the moment, I'm very sorry. We will keep your resume in case another position opens up in the future. Thank you."

"What that a paper shredder I heard in the background?" Bulma said, so much from her light mood. Oh well, maybe retail wasn't her thing but she knew that she just couldn't depend on.

"Hi Bulma, it's your father." Speak of the devil, she thought, smirking lightly at the thought and of her parents. She loved them with all her heart but sometimes her father would never understand her.

"I hope you're doing okay out there, living that cosmopolitan life style." Nope, she didn't have to worry about that.

"Your mother and I miss you, it was so nice to have someone in the house whose whole life didn't revolve around soap operas. Bulma, honey, you have no idea how much I miss having an intelligent conversation with someone that's not about Tiffany and Jack. Oh, yes, this isn't just a social call; there's been a job opening for a district supervisor in our Malaysian office. I know it's still with the company but I know you are definitely qualified. Either way, don't be a stranger, love you, hon." Great, as if she the pettiness at Shordar's wasn't bad enough, getting involved in office politics. She still had a few resumes out there, she still had some prospects for an interview and a job, it wouldn't be so bad to think about it, and she always did want to go to Malaysia; she'd heard stories about the main offices, and the private island that the company owned. Walking through her bedroom again, she stopped in front of the mirror, her reflection bring back the half forgotten memories of a dream she had tried so hard to remember. Closing her eyes, she again felt a presence around her, a warm, strong, protective one, flashes of her in the store and looking into a bottomless pool blinked to life in her head. The vision were then replaced by that of a man with coal black eyes and hair that stood up like a flame, a hard angled face and a perfectly built body. Oh great, now she really was loosing it, believing that her mannequin was alive. Shaking her head, her eyes flashed over the green pendant on her bureau.

***

"Listen mach, if you're not going to order a drink that get out of my bar." A burly, gravel voice bartender snapped out, trying to intimidate the man who sat at the end of the counter. Another voice yelled back at the bartender for another round and his attention was taken off the loiterer for the moment.

"Hey, shorty, what's your problem." a lanky man, who had had too much false courage for his own good, asked. He had watched the dark haired man for the last hour just sit there and turn his nose up at everything.

"You know, there's a bar down the street for your kind, funny boy, unless of course you give head." The bar filled with laughter at the comment at the expense of the short bastard. The man showed no anger against the humiliation, merely curled his hands into fists and his thick eyebrows furrowed every lower on his brow.

"Ohhh, did I hurt his feelings? Do you want to fight, shorty, since you can't drink like a man, or …" Before the taunter could talk, think or breathe he was pinned against the wall, a gripping hand on his throat cutting off his circulation and pushing into nerve endings that left his writhing in pure agony. Giving the man one cruel smile, Vegeta slammed his hand through the pinned man's chest, holding off his true strength. Leaning in, his voice grew low and harsh in the man's ear.

"If I wish, I could rip your head off with my bare hands, and no one could stop you. I have more blood on my hands than you have coursing through your pathetic body, don't think one more kill will make any difference to me. Now I suggest you run, before I decide that I take your life, just to prove to every lowly human in this bar that I can." Punching the frozen man in the stomach, Vegeta released his hold and allowed the human to sink to his knees, such pitiful challenge was not worth his time. He had come to this place to get away from the woman, thinking that he could drink away her every invading presence in his mind. Having no money to pay for anything, not that their human drinks could do anything to a Saiyajin, he had sat at the counter the whole night, dreading and hoping for when sleep would come to him; the possibility of another of his dreams with her both frightening and comforting him. The universe might not have changed much in the last five years he was in hell but this world was still as foreign and alien as any he had come across. What could he expect from some tiny rock on the outer edge of a galaxy so out of the way, it wasn't even on any of the intergalactic maps he had ever seen. His first encounter with the dominant species of this planet was in hell, weak creatures that burned and writhed in the eternal agony, no where close to being strong enough to be of use in hell's military.

"Hey, you Kami damned fuck, don't you touch my little brother." At the new challenger's words Vegeta smirked, they might be pitiful challenges but they would reveal some of his boredom. Turning to the mass of anger, drunken patrons, he lowered himself into a fighting stance and took the first challenger. Stupid humans, they know nothing about fighting, he thought, watching at the first attacker ran at him blind. The human cocked his first back, ready to strike the Saiyajin Prince down, avenging his little brother. He didn't even have a chance; when the man was within arms length of the Saiyajin, Vegeta grabbed him by his collar and threw him like a rag doll against the brick wall he had pinned the first human to. Feeling another blow coming towards him, Vegeta spun out of the way, using the gaping opening in the human's defences to slam his fist into the man's jaw, sending another pitiful attacker flying. A loud kiai brought the Saiyajin's attention to a new attacker, this one brandishing a staff weapon in his hands. Pool cue in hand, the shorter, obviously trained man, twirled the stick in front of him, keeping the weapon in perfect control as he twirled it around his body. Finally ending in a loud kiai, the cue held firmly in two hands. Smirking at the little show of dramatics, Vegeta kicked through the stick with a round kick, breaking it as if it were a toothpick, and repositioning himself to throw a back stick into the human's chest, sending yet another one flying.

"Anyone else?" The sound was almost like a purr, the Saiyajin enjoying the pitiful fight they had put up against him.

"I will." a soft, husky voice rang out in the deathly silent bar, Vegeta's focus turned to the door, pure black eyes narrowing in on the newest occupant of the bar. Standing with her head held high and a healthy amount of cleavage showing, the golden skinned demoness seductively turned and walked towards the door. Turning back to meet that black gaze, she beckoned to him to follow; slipping out the door and leaving it open, the cold air of early December flooding the crapped, crowded bar room. Whistles and cat calls followed the Saiyajin as he walked to the door, the fools really had no idea what they were dealing with as Vegeta walked out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"How vulgar, five days amongst the living and you're already getting into brawls with the natives, weaklings at that. Oh how the mighty have fallen, isn't that right, My Prince?" Daima's voice echoed through the abandoned alley, Vegeta clenching his fists and extending out his senses to find the source of the teasing voice. He knew he could just blend into the shadows to find her but what good would that do with someone who knew the technique already; he was not going to stroke her ego by using such methods to find her.

"High words from a whore, is that why you're hiding? But you did get one thing right, I'm among the living now, flesh and blood and beyond the reach of your owner, or has he thrown you out already?" A low growl told him the remark had hit home; stupid woman, did she really think she would succeed against him now when she never could before. He felt her power blink to life but a moment and he chuckled, this would be as easy as taking on those humans again.

"Did I strike a cord, bitch, another man that didn't succumb to your charms, what there is of them. How does it feel to be tossed aside, again?" Daima screamed in rage and flickered into sight, readying herself to attack, only to be pinned against the now drying brick wall of the bar. Her hands held above her head, she thrashed against her captor, cursing and spitting in his face. Vegeta just smiled cruelly into her face, allowing himself to press harder into her chest until the air was forced from her lungs. With no room to move or even breathe, she snarled at him, only to stop suddenly when she felt his hand move up her side. Memories of the nights they had together filled her head and she relaxed against him, her anger at him melting away at the feeling of his body against hers. His head descended to her neck and she whimpered as she felt his breath caress her skin. The breath finally stopped at her ear and she sighed, cooing at the thought of what he could and had done to her.

"Daima, tell me why you are here? No demon can enter this realm without special pardon or magick, what are you doing here then?" he husked in her ear, his finger stroking against her side, sending shivers through her body. Damn him, he always knew what worked with her.

"The Demon Lord sent me to take you back, naughty boy, everyone's very mad at you. But, if you give up now, we can go back and you can have me all you want." she cooed back, kissing his neck, nothing easier than to try and seduce him into coming, the victory would be so much sweeter. She gasped out in surprise as his teeth nipped at her ear, she could feel down there but she was sure he was reacting to her, it would only be a matter of time. He was the only one, him and the Demon Lord, that didn't completely succumb to her charms, that didn't become putty in her hands.

"What makes you think I want you at all?" he growled back, removing his head from her neck and stared down at her, the black void of his eyes colder than Niflheim.

"How dare you, I am more of a woman that any mortal creature. You think I don't know, that the Demon Lord doesn't know; you have a thing for that blue haired woman, the pure one. Stupid Saiyajin, it's only a matter of time before the Master succeeds, he always wins in the end, and you'll be nothing, nothing; a lap dog at my feet." Her words were cut off by a mighty roar as Vegeta screamed out in rage, his body glowing in energy as he prepared to strike the demoness dead. Closing her eyes, Daima prepared for the end, confident in the fact that she had finally made him lose his cool, she had found his weakness. Suddenly, she fell to the ground, Vegeta's support and body heat gone. Opening her eyes, she was alone in the alley; the only sign that the Saiyajin Prince had been there was the light marks around her throat and wrists and the burnt out outline of his hand against the brick wall.

* * * * *