Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, but I hope the owners and creators don't mind if I use some of their characters for a while.

Note: This story has strong adult oriented themes, mainly of a violent and sexual nature with some swear words thrown in for good measure. If any of these topics offend you, I will warn, please don't read this story or your eyes will go orange and you'll grow hair on your tongue; how's that for a curse? Anyway, also note there is a lot of science in is chapter, yes; I'm so happy that I finally get to include the subjects I study in school in one of my stories.

"I don't really think you should be here, Mr. Yamcha is very strict about his privacy. With his career in the public eye, he's always had to worry about people stalking him or annoying him at home. Can I see that badge again?"

"Listen, Mr. Hiashi, I don't care if this guy had a Garbo complex, just open the damn door. You are hindering a police investigation and if you don't unlock that door, we'll come back here and get an injunction and don't think we will be nicer on the second trip." The proper little Japanese concierge looked up frightening at the large detective, trying to stand his guard against the cop's intrusion into one of his residencies. Looking almost like David and Goliath to the two other occupants of the hall; Krillin walked between the two solitudes and caught the old man's eye. Digging in his coat pocket, he removed the thick leather casing and held out the brass badge for the sceptical man's inspection. Snatching back the badge after the concierge had let go of the side, the small officer leaned closer to the man, his voice a mimicry of a stage whisper.

"Listen, my partner's strong arm tactics aside, we need to get into that apartment. We are investing a disappearance case, and any clues that we might be able to get can only help us. Now, if we find something in there that helps us solve this case, you'll be a hero; if there's nothing, no one will have to know. Now are you going to let us in, or does my partner have to get that injunction?" Craning around Krillin's bald head, the older man went as pale as parchment as he caught the hard brown stare of the American detective. Shooting a desperate plea to the one silent member of their party, Yashimoto only returned the stare that Jackson had flashed him. Running out of allies, the man merely shrugged and slid the master key into the dead bolt lock.

"Just don't mess anything up or take anything or value, the man is a good tipper." Turning to his two partners, Krillin flashed a smirk before heading for the now unlocked door and pushing it opened. Glancing over at one another, the two remaining occupants of the hall could merely sneer at one another, leaving their standing off only to follow Krillin in to the penthouse apartment.

***

"Damn, would you look at that view; I wonder what the rent must be on a place like this?" Krillin said, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. As if in a trace, he stared blankly through the huge window that swallowed up one whole wall of the apartment; the panoramic view of the Tokyo skyline as the sky grew darker with each passing moment. The trance like awe had not just affected Krillin, the normally stoic Yashimoto and indifferent Jackson stared unbashed at the high ceiling and modern leather furniture of the penthouse apartment.

"If you really wanted, I could get a hold of that building manager again; something tells me he could quote chapter and verse for the book of price per square foot. But still, who would think a male catalogue model could make so much?"

"I guess we really wouldn't make enough for Ms. Lee then." Yashimoto answered back, the amazement in his voice like that of the others detectives, the unconventional reply earning a smile from Krillin. Giving one last glance to the Tokyo skyline, he joined his partners in scouring the apartment.

"Hey, Jackson, how much do you think this place is worth?"

"Why?" The half-listening cop replied. "You thinking of moving in, a big market for bald models?"

"I wish, but it could be something. This place has got to be a pretty penny, and if he was living beyond his means, it wouldn't be inconceivable to borrow money from the wrong sources…" Walking over to the mini office, off from the living room, the American completely ignored the question, as he scoured through the desk drawers and jiggling open the file cabinet to look through the various personal papers. Taking a seat in the revolving chair, Jackson was still unaware as Krillin approached the tiny personal office.

"Hey, Ty, what do you think, it's not inconceivable that a man beyond his means to get himself involved in some bad company. Someone comes to collect the bill, and they make him disappear when he couldn't make payment."

"Don't tell me you're actually going in for this conspiracy theory garbage, next thing you'll be telling me he was kidnapped by little green men from Mars. For one thing, bookies and organised types do not finance life styles, they certainly don't finance for something like this, well for someone else," Jackson replied, indicating the posh apartment. "Besides, even if his death was gang related, they would just have killed him and left the body, they would have no reason to make an example of this guy, and killing him wouldn't get their money back. Now why don't you look for clues, instead of allegations. And remind me when we get back to the station to get his phone, credit card and financial record. A guy like this is probably running from a girl friend or seeing a new girlfriend, all we need is a little proof that this is a case of a guy escaping his bitter ex and the freak investigator goes bye bye."

"You shouldn't be so hard on Yashimoto, it was hard for you when you came here, can't be any easier for him adapting to a new precinct." Getting only a harsh look for his words, Krillin turned and left his partner in the mini office, the black detective switching on the desk laptop, checking through the missing man's history list in hope for a clue to his whereabouts. Krillin could only blink at his on edge partner, and left the too tense room, returning to the peaceful main room and that view. He became mesmerised once more with the sight, the lights of the city a comfort from the confusion of this case and the tension that had come between the two buds. As much as this place awed him, there was a not right feeling, the whole case reeked of it, that sense that there was more than meets the eyes, that they had scratched the surface of something very deep and frighteningly evil. Just his luck, Krillin thought, half of him wanted to follow Yashimoto's lead, to see this as something with a hidden plot beneath the surface, better than any Tom Clancy or Sherlock Holmes book he'd read. But the more practical, cautious and rational side chimed to him the virtues of Ty's simple yet legitimate theory; of course, his instincts told him that there was even more hear than he could imagine, prompting his survival instinct as well. Grabbing his well scribbled pad, he jotted down the note about the phone records and credit card purchases in the last month, with an alternate note to himself to look up Yashimoto's record. Just to be on the safe side, he checked up on Ty thoroughly before willing to be his partner, and even for all of Yashimoto's following of the book, there was that not right sense about him, that same air that seemed to surround this whole case. Oh hell, maybe he was following in Ty's footsteps, the territorial issue of a cop's right to a case and his sovereign right decide how it should be handled. Someone muscling in on an assignment, especially one with this many twists and possible intrigues could make the possessiveness flare in any cop. He could only imagine what it must by like to be the new cop, in a different culture, the pressure that must be on him to prove himself, to not be stigmatised. Funny how the simple colour of skin can complicate an issue.

It was odd walking through another person's apartment in their absence, as if breaking the unwritten rule of not disturbing another man's space, although, curiosity gripped him at the thought of what he would find. Wasting no time, he walked over to the blinking answering machine, the marble kitchen filling with the soft and suggestive tones of a woman, Ms. Lee, as she taunted her boyfriend. The next message clinked on and played, the softness of her tone growing harsher while the suggestion of her message moved from sex to physical violence if he didn't pick up the phone. The final message, more graphic and anger filled than the ones before, explained in detail, what she would do if she found him, especially if he was with that blue haired spoiled brat. Hmmm, if anyone was a spoiled; but there was something else to the message, blue haired, it sounded familiar. The tape went through a few more standard messages, a few inquiries from his agent and the management at Shordar about his absence but Krillin had long forgotten them. Blue hair, blue haired, it sounded familiar, it sounded like one of the man's old girlfriends, his last one before the current flame; reason enough for Ms. Lee to be suspicious of her boyfriend, but to suspect the girl. The mention of the young woman peaked the detective's interest, whatever had happened between that blue haired girl and Yamcha might be of interest. The girl did work at the store, wonder what her story is, where she was that night. Jotting down the reminder to look up another person's phone, credit card, financial record, and time table, Krillin walked through the rest of the lavish home, searching through the full refrigerator and papers that were strewn about the kitchen. Turning down the hall, he saw the light on in the bedroom, and the silhouette of Yashimoto walking through the room. Can only imagine what he would find in there, the bald headed man surmised, and he took a detour into the bathroom.

***

There was something not right about this place, an overwhelming wave of wrongness and malignancy that swept over him as soon as he walked through the door. In truth, it seemed to hang off of everyone he had met, the sins and insecurities and guilt producing this feeling, the odour of sin clinging stronger to those with a greater weight to their souls. The impression had been strong on Gisele Lee, almost enough that it was a physical smell on her skin, and it was here as well, but most strongly situated in this room. Something happened here, possibly many somethings, Yashimoto thought, looking over disapprovingly at the bed, but one in particular has stained this room, that bed, and the man that resides in it. Or maybe resided was a better word, the man was gone, taken to the darkest pits in the lowest levels of hell, with the traitors and creature of such evil, the very light would fry them; but why this minor sinner in such company. An evil in his soul, a corruption almost beyond that of human doing, and he had felt it in the store, near the missing bed, along with something else. That two such conflicting sensations as human corruption and wondrous purity in the same area, at presumably the same time, it was a coincidence he was not going to accept. And that the lighter of the two smells had eventually followed him to the dead man's home, it was a link of the strongest chain. Who ever it was had something to do with the death and corruption of the man's soul which ultimately led him into hell, if not by deed than association. So why was it that he didn't believe his own conclusion; that purity and innocence too strong to ignore. He checked through every nook and crevice in search of an answer, he'd didn't go through all of this just to come up empty handed; but in the end, he rather he hadn't. It was in a collection of pictures, a long forgotten pile stored in old shoe box did he find it, that feeling from before, that innocence blended with sadness and shame, not so stain by its own deeds but by those of others; it was a miracle it was still intact. But there, staring out with the kindest, most radiant pools of blue was the key, all of this for a woman, and from the expression on the dead human's face, she was his old girlfriend, the blue haired one. Oh Kaious, this greatly complicated the issue; if it were just a misplaced soul, it would be a simple enough manner to restore it to its rightful place, be it heaven, hell, limbo, purgatory or life once more, but this, this was much bigger. The pure one, the pure one was in danger, it began to make sense now, oh too clear. The target wasn't this man, he was only a casualty of the cross fire; but this was much more severe, what ever took this man's life was still out there, after the pure one, wielding power, or magick, or whatever was necessary to obtain their goal. There had always been the hope that she would never have to be threatened, that she could know just the blissful unaware of normal human life, but now, that peace, and the balance of existence might be altered. His duty was clear from the beginning, find the demon for whom the portal had been forged, but the need was greater now than ever before. This was still the surest way to find out what he need, mortal law and justice, even if tempered with prejudice, had its advantages. At least he now knew the whys of this deed, now only the whos needed to be answered; did he ever wish he had back up now. So consumed in thought, Yashimoto was completely unaware of the other presence in the room.

"Hey, find anything interesting?"

"Ah, no, just a few old pictures and enough material on sex to make the Hugh Hefner stand up and take note. If this guy did run off, he left all of his clothes, most of his personal papers, and his passport. Rather odd for a guy that just ran off to escape a bitter girlfriend, but maybe he decided all he needed was a credit card."

"Rather a reversal for you, I got the impression you thought it was something much more sinister, and now you just completely back down? Listen, I know Jackson's giving you a hard time but he's a decent guy, got fired from his last assignment, a lot of issues in his old precinct. The move hasn't been easy on him, he's just been on edge with the adjustment, if a tall, black man in the US looks intimidating, just imagine what it must be like among all us shorter men here; though somehow I doubt that's an issue to you." Krillin finally replied, giving notice to Yashimoto's unusual height.

"He does have a point, Krillin, maybe I've been investigating weird cases for too long, seeing a simple blowing off of responsibility as the crime of the century." The taller man said reluctantly, all the while slipping the picture up his sleeve. Giving the room one last look over, he turned and walked out into the hall, leaving a stunned and confused Krillin in his wake.

"Hey, wait a minute, Yashimoto." But the man had already left, hopefully down to the front lobby to pick up the piled up mail from the box.

"So what's bothering the rookie?" Tyrone called out, hearing the commotion in the hall. Shutting off the computer, he took a last glance at the few receipts that he found in the file folder; no hint or clue that this Yamcha guy was planning on leaving, no airline tickets, no hotel reservation slips, not a one. Maybe there really was more to this case than met the eye.

"You should be happy, really, he finally decided to take your side, thinks we should drop the whole thing all together, that's there's no case. I never thought I'd here those words from his mouth."

"Yeah," Jackson agreed, "Especially when I'm starting to think he might have a point. Maybe we should look into this guy a bit more, talk to his friends, see if he's done this before. Hey, man, do you remember some ex-girlfriend Ms. Lee was talking about?"

"Yeah, blue haired girl, I think she's supposed to be the daughter of the owner of Capsule Corporation, why she'd be working at a department store I don't know." Nodding his agreement, Jackson walked out into the hall and through the apartment, not sparing the place a glance as he walked towards the elevator.

"Krillin, you coming?"

"Yeah, just a sec." The smaller detective called out, switching off the lights and giving one last look to the electrically lit city before closing the front door.

***

It was as it was before, the beauty, the utter serenity of the place took her breath away. The perfect trees and grass and flowers, always in bloom, always warm; the energy was so strong in this place, the very air was heading with the aroma. It was just as she remembered it, and yet so different from before, she didn't get much of a chance to appreciate the beauty around her, too gripped with fear to think of anything more than trying to survive, to escape for whatever shadows lurked in this too bright place. It was silly to think that now for some reason, she knew she was safe here, the forces behind that howling wind, deadly grip and cold voice could not touch this place. Or maybe she was just looking at it through rose coloured glasses, but no, something deeper than denial was telling her it was safe; and that same sense was leading her through the glade. She couldn't keep the lazy look of serenity off her face as she walked through this unchanging world; the grass underfoot felt so soft, it was like walking on a cloud. Even the trees and brushes seemed to part way for her, the foliage as well kept as if a hundred gardeners maintained these lands, and yet they seemed to her to be untouched by human hands. She knew she was being silly, analysing the appearance of a dream while she was still in it, but she's never experienced a dream this vivid, the colours so bright and rich, the smells so strong and sweet, assaulting all of her senses, well all but one. There was no sound in this place, no winds that rustled those perfect leaves, or played with the edges of her clothing or her hair. The silence was so thick, so absolute, even her footsteps left no mark; it took her several minutes to even pinpoint the one sound that could exist in this place, drawing her forwards like it had before.

At the centre of the glade, surrounded on all sides by mighty oaks and light brush, a tiny stream from an unknown source flowed into a still, deep pool. The surface was as smooth as glass, even the rippling effect of the stream water flowing in was swallowed up and forced under the murky depth of the pool. What would it be like to drink from that water, what mysterious is contained within it, that it would be the sound that rings through this silent world, would reflect the inner soul. That was what he said when she shrank from the sight before, that man, Vegeta; the name almost rolled off her tongue and a wave of nervousness and anticipation swept over her. If her surrounds had been vivid last time, the encounter with that man was even more so, his warm, strong body against hers, protecting her against all the world and anything that would threaten her. And then he touched her like no one else had, the feeling so all consuming, but then again not frightening, as if somewhere, in that distorted wash of her memories, it had all happened before. What was it about him, a threat and a comfort wrapped in one compact, sensual package, that just looking at him made her what to forget her troubles, just want fall into his arms and never leave. Foolish dreams again, Bulma girl, she chide herself, that's what happened the last time. You might not have been willing to go that far with Yamcha, only because you saw his true self before the time came for that. She shook her head in confusion and sat by one of the eternal trees along the pool bank; what could possibly be making her so irrational, the left over hopes and dreams of her youth? There was always those dreams that carried her to Tokyo, success and love, tradition family of a husband and two kids, old dreams don't die very easily though. But, there was more, something beyond the grand simplicity that was her life plan, had nothing to do with finding a man, but finding the right one, this one. There was something about his tone, his embrace, those eyes, as deep as the pool in front of her, looking into her soul and giving approval of what he saw within, but never revealing anything in return. She still remember when she spent all those hours sitting by his side, whispering and trying hard not to cry, looking for comfort in those same eyes, and always receiving the same look, compassionate but never allowing her to see. Maybe it was why she always came up with so many stories and lives for him, so many personalities, but seeing and meeting him in the flesh was like nothing she could believe. After all those images and possibilities, she was finally confronted with the reality and she want to know more, to see more, look into those eyes and see what he saw. Why was she chosen for him, why to her and not anyone else? Closing her eyes, the eternal peace of the place affecting even her anxiety, and she relaxed against the tree, deciding for the moment to rest, let the soothing lullaby of the rushing water give her temporary refuge from her worries. Still, it would be nice to see, to know, to experience what was behind that cold stare, what could have made a man so perfect want to hide himself from everyone, she thought, gathering the edges of her robe around her and giving one last look around before she became just another part of the scenery. Then it happened, an event that brought her from the very edge of slumber to full awareness; there was a ripple in the pool. Inherently afraid of what she might see staring back at her, she inched to the water's edge until she was kneeling over the edge of the side. For a brief shining moment, she was transfixed by her own reflection, too perfect to be real and she couldn't help but feel inadequate at the sight, such loveliness framed by that strong perfect white light. Then, there was another ripple, and the imaged changed, the lines of her face shifting into hard, sharp plains, her hair deepening to black and spiking up from her scalp and finally her eyes turning from expressive blue to implacable ebony. For a moment, he was simply there, his face like an impenetrable mask and she could do no more than to stare at him, taking the sight in. Again another ripple disturbed the flawless surface and his eyes slid shut and his mouth tightened in pain before the image disappeared from her view.

"No!! Come back!" She screamed, her shouts filling the air, the once peace atmosphere turning into cold and fearful once more. With an instinct beyond reason, she untied the sash of her robe and let the garment slip off her shoulders, walked towards the water's edge and further, slipping under the calm surface and diving into the water to search for the man she saw in pain. How different the world looked under the surface of the pond, the once bright world above cast into shadow but there was always enough light to see, the light off of her? What kind of weird water was this, whatever it was it was making her glow, that pure white light from before. Somehow, wrapped in that light she felt less afraid of her murky surrounds, like a single light against the darkness. The water below was just as still as the water above, the world equally as silent and oddly serene as that of the glade; as above, so below. Bulma felt herself slipping away, floating deeper and deeper into the nothingness, still she could not see him, could not sense anything beyond what her eyes could take in, nothing. He had to be here, she had to find him, she couldn't let anything happen to him, had to stop his pain. Not thinking of the utter impossibility and defying of all known law of science, she opened her mouth, allowing her lungs to fill with air and shouted out in the internal darkness.

"Vegeta, where are you? Vegeta speak to me, I want to help you; where are you?" In the void of nothingness her words echoed off in the distance, but no answer greeted her reply. Opening her mouth once more, she readied herself to shout out once more before another sound graced her ears, muffled and faint but there and real and it filled her with hope as she gliding towards the sound. Had she been of sounder mind, she might have thought about the danger she was getting herself into, whatever had caused the Saiyajin pain could easily destroy her, but she couldn't think about her own safety, only of saving the life of her protector. The muffled scream grew louder as she followed the sound, the pain and anguish so clear to her ears she wanted to cry out; but still she could not see anything. With every second the sound grew in intensity but still her eyes hid the origin of the cries of pain. Just when she was about to give up, when an intelligible shout rang up from the depths of the void, the pure rage behind them caused her to shake in fear.

"Face me now, cowardly assassin of the Saiyajin race. I have come at last to avenge my race, return you for the years of torture and misery, being your slave. I swear now by my life and the honour of my race that I will see one of us dead on this day."

"At least you are right about one thing, Prince of Vegetasei, one of us won't see the end of this day. A pity though, you were always such a darling boy, if only you had just sacrificed your pride and becoming a willing slave, I would have given you anything you wished. It's not often one finds someone as amusing as you, Vegeta, so easy to gloat, so much anger and yet so little power. You really would have made your father proud." As if by some chose of fate, two figures materialised in the void before her, one a being of white, purple, pink and black; a more alien being she had never seen. And across from it, blood dripping from his split lip and the gashes on his face and arms, stood a battered but proud Vegeta. Her heart fell into her stomach at the white creature's words, every one as sharp as a whip's barb, ripping through Vegeta's pride as his blows before must have cut his skin. In the face of the tyrant's words, the Saiyajin Prince snarled, his anger snapping at the last comment about his father; who, from the sounds of it, had been killed by this monster. Now Vegeta was going to face him, fight with all the rage and torment saved over the years of his captivity and service; oh Kami, she couldn't watch. The sounds of battle, of flesh against flesh, Vegeta's screams of outrage and cries of pain, Freeza's laughter and taunts as he batted the Saiyajin around like a cat after a mouse.

"You bastard, coward; you would not even meet the Saiyajins head on, prefer to just blow up the planet, don't even have the decency to take credit for the deed. You will pay, Freeza, I swear it, a Saiyajin will come that will destroy you." His voice, once loud and arrogant was now hardly above a whisper, weak and growing weaker by the moment as his blood pooled around his battered form.

"Is that so, Little Saiyajin, too bad you won't live to see it. In the end you were just another monkey, a weak, pathetic monkey, but an excellent pet. I will be sorry to see you go, you were always good for a laugh. Die, Saiyajin; a failure like your father." And charging up one final blast, a malevolent smirk formed on Freeza's face, not trying to hide the enjoyment out of this act, the ultimate blow to the young Saiyajin Prince, first his home, his people, his pride, his dignity and finally his life. She couldn't let it happen, she couldn't let him die; so much pain, she had to stop it, she had to save him. Never in her life had Bulma moved so fast, flying out of the void, between the injured Saiyajin and the deadly blast, trying to stop his death, to spare him all that agony, just the thought of him in pain was too much for her to bear. She stood without fear and protective covering to take the blast, the heat of the energy tingling as it rushed towards her, and through her, like she was a ghost or apparition, and stuck the wounded Saiyajin head on. She turned and flew to his side, the blast easily cracking his armour and burning through his body, burning his skin and laying waste to his heart. Tears streamed down her too pale face, as she heard his last scream before he went silent, his eyes rolling back in his head and blood flowing out of his mouth. Gliding towards him, she watched as the scene slowly changed again, the bloodied body of the Saiyajin dissolving into the a astral image of the Saiyajin Prince, still wearing his broken armour but his body recovered from the killing blast. He seemed, at first, to be at peace, his pain melting away along with his body, that was until he began to thrash violently in the dark void, writhing and twisting in agony, fighting for breath. Her fear for him returned and she came to his side, trying all she could to attract his attention, finally grabbing at his arm and screaming out herself, the heat off his skin blistering her own delicate flesh, burning as if it were on fire. Unlike before though, her screams and presence did not go unnoticed, the panicking Saiyajin turning in the direction of the scream, his dark eyes flashing the emotions of pain and confusion and wonder before they rolled up in the back of his head. The burning of his skin and his asphyxiation overcame his ability to stay conscious, and he fell deeper into the void. Even sleep often no escape, with ever foot lower that he sunk, the fire around him grew hotter until he was crying out in his unconscious state, the heat so bad she could even discern the flames licking at his body. It was the void, the emptiness beneath the pool, it was burning him and choking off his air supply, but why him and not her? This is no time for questions, she berated herself, and she glided after him, grabbing his hand and securing his arms around her shoulder, straining against the extra weight that threatened to drag her down into the pit as well. No, she had to get to the light, she had to save him, she was the only one left. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, carrying his limp body up through to the surface, the burning heat of his punishment blistered her own skin, fighting against the pull of the void to just release him, to let him go and save herself. In the end, she didn't know where she found the strength, with every foot she travelled the weight became a little lighter, his burns cooler, and she cried out with joy at the sight just above her head, the top of the pool, and the world above. Never had anything felt as wonderful as that pure sweet air filling her lungs as she broke through the surface, the light never so beautiful to her eyes as she looked upon that peaceful world with her charge. His warmth breath brushed against her neck and she shivered at the sensation; he was finally coming too but she could still feel the burning sting of the water against his skin, she had to get him to the bank. It was still a struggle to move his inert body but with success so close at hand, she eventually managed to get him onto the soft bank, eased herself up next to him and just took in the sight of his blistered skin. Uncaring about her own burns, or her nakedness, she crept up to him and ran her hands across his face, down his side and over his chest, just studied the perfect body before her. With every stroke of her hand, the redness of his skin disappeared, his soft skin taking on a golden tan, such smooth skin covering such dense, hard muscle. As the bruising vanished from his body, his breathing relaxed, and he growled and purred at her touch. Her hand continued to play with the warm skin of his chest, feeling out every line and contour until she traced out an old scar over his abdomen, a long, deep hair line scar. Ripping her eyes away from his face she stared down at his chest once more, the horrific burns had only done to hide all of his scars, the brushstrokes of a life hard lived. Just thinking of the life he must have face at the hands of that creature, she bent down and kissed the mark on his abdomen, wishing away his pain. She didn't know why she cared so much about him, why she had dove into that pool, why she risked everything to save him? Maybe it was because he had done the same thing for her, had saved her when she was drowning in her self misery; she didn't really know why he had helped her and she helped him, such things seemed like details right now. Now he was safe and by her side and she was kissing his skin, revelling in the feeling of him beneath her. She caught the subtle change in her companion's breathing and cried out as arms suddenly wrapped around her waist and she was met with those fathomless black eyes. Like a deer in the headlights, Bulma froze under that gaze, it was so hard to read, to understand what was going on in that head of his. She opened her mouth to break the silence, when his lips covered hers and he pulled her tightly into his embrace. Bulma whimpered lightly into the kiss, his strong hand caressing her back while the other tangled in her hair, his lips moving over hers so slowly, thoroughly. He shifted himself so easily, putting her on her back with him on top. Pulling back slightly from her, a soft moan escaped her parted mouth as his lips trailed down the line of her throat, ending at the base of her neck. The hand on her back smoothed up her stomach and cupped her breast, as he bore his teeth against her throat and …

Bulma's eyes fluttered opened to her dimly lit room, the sensation of a man's hand caressing her body still lingered, along with that warm masculine smell. Realising that it was only a dream, the woman groaned harshly and turned on her stomach, burying her head under the pillows; fine time for her alarm to go off.

***

She had decided, planned, and confirmed for herself that she was going to start out bright and early, make any sacrifice that was necessary, suffer and toil until she got herself an interview and a job offer; funny how easily distractions can come up and lay waste to the most well intended plans. Dressed in a suit with a portfolio of resumes under her arm and a toasted bagel in her mouth when there was a knock at the door. Reaching for the door, she was met with the cheerful grin of her new neighbour, dressed casually with her red hair up in a thick pony tail.

"I'm sorry if I'm bugging you but I was wondering if you wanted to go out for coffee, the least I could do for my savour yesterday. I was hoping you could show me one of the good coffee shops around here, in my mad rush with moving I forgot to buy some at the store." Faced with the possibility of long lines, annoying personnel managers, a string of rejections or a relaxing conversation, Bulma took the latter. It didn't matter, there would plenty of time for the world to stomp her down tomorrow. Taking the bagel out of her mouth, she gave the young woman a smile and beckoned her into the intimate apartment, and slipped the portfolio unto the counter.

"I know of a few places around, could only imagine what they would be like at this hour; but I have a coffee maker and some French Roast if you want to skip the shop and have the coffee."

"Thank you so much, Bulma; I guess you're my savour again. I promise I'll take you out, something fun, girl type stuff. I hope I'm not keeping you from anything."

"No," Bulma replied, looking over at the mass of resumes, "Nothing at all."

***

"Mona, do you ever have dreams, I mean really vivid ones?" Bulma asked, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug as she stared at the woman who sat across from her. Mona merely lifted her head, the question catching her off guard and she eased back into the plush beige couch, bring her leg up in front of her and looked back at Bulma. Her jacket now gone, the young, blue haired woman sat in the big enveloping seat, seriousness on her face but happiness in her eyes as she looked over at the first friend she had found since the incident.

"I've had a few, mostly about flying, makes me almost wish I could fly for real, like a bird. Now that would definitely be a sight. Sorry, but whenever I think of dreams, I think of my friend Tatiana, she always been into that weird, occult stuff, interpreting dreams as messages, talking to spirits, chanting, reading tarot cards; she a Wiccan. Back home she ran this great little magick shop, always had books on that kind of stuff, did palm readings in everything, it's where I got my pendant." The red haired woman proclaimed proudly, reaching around her neck to tug at the chain that lay hidden under her collar. Retrieving the chain and pendant, she slipped the two off her head and passed them over for Bulma's perusal. The silver pendant felt heavy in Bulma's hands, the wrought Celtic knotting looking old and ceremonial. In the centre of the endless looping pattern was an old runic symbol, .

"Neat, what does it mean?" Bulma asked, handing it back. Slipping it over her head again, Mona smoothed her thumb over the rough wrought work.

"It's supposed to be a symbol of protection and power and female intuition; my friend called it the amulet of the female deity or demon, a signet to the power of the bitch. I remember I used to have some of the weirdest dreams when I first stared wearing it, now they're either gone or I don't remember them." Looking back over the calm blue eyes of her listener, Mona gave a one sided smile and turned her eyes to her lap.

"Sorry, I can get really carried away with stuff, but you were saying with your dreams, what do you see?" Smiling lightly at the young woman's spirited nature, so much like her own when she came here, before… No, she wasn't going to think of that, besides, she had other concerns than one man's libido. She sighed and stared into her dark mug, as if looking into that caffeinated void could give her an answer.

"I guess it's nothing really, but I've been getting them in the past week, these insanely vivid dreams, about this man." Bulma could just sense by the very atmosphere in the room that Mona had perked up at the mention of a man, the levity lightening her own damp mood.

"It's so weird, I've had three different dreams with him in them, the earliest one was almost eight nights, one about four nights ago and then again tonight. In them was this man; Kami how to describe him? He's a little taller than me, with wild, upswept, spiky hair, built like a Greek god, with, hmm, a tail."

"And you're complaining about this? I only wish I had dreams like that or a man like that, except maybe for the tail." Mona asked, laughing jovially and Bulma couldn't help but join her, blushing at how odd she must sound, the complete opposite of the façade she showed the world. But just the way Mona was smiling, without a hint of superiority or malice in her laugh put the embarrassed woman at ease.

"Anyway, I've been having these dreams, and they revolve around this man, the oddest thing is the what happened in the dreams. I'm always surrounded by this pure white light, in this place of peace, but not really; there are always a hidden danger in the places. First, he was hunting me in the store, next he saved me from an evil presence, and then I saved him from nothingness. Do you think it means anything, I've never had dreams like them, completely vivid, even afterwards I feel like I've actually been in his presence." It took only a few moments to the girl to go from friendly laughing to quiet contemplation; somehow Bulma felt this sort of stuff was right up her alley. Not wanting to break the calm in the room, the blue haired woman didn't press the question, just took slips of her coffee and tried not to think about the times when the dreams were almost too real when she woke up wearing the green pendant.

"I don't know quite what to say, that's really deep. It would almost seem as if he like he had a mission, or you do, that there is something between the two of you, deep and profound. That you keep meeting in their odd situations, first adversarial, then as protectors of one another, could be a sign that you will be called to protect someone, that a great responsibility will be placed on your shoulders. I like the idea of the peaceful place though, I guess maybe because it's a meditation concept, the idea of creating a peaceful, secure place, but whether someone crashing it is a good or bad thing I'm not sure. I've always thought that dreams are like inner visions of our soul, our subconscious letting us see what our eyes can miss. Maybe the light that you said surrounds you is your good soul, maybe this saving, meeting this man in the worst times is a sign of things to come, maybe you were a bigger fan of Curious George when you were a little kid and it's coming back to haunt you. Hope I'm not freaking you out with all my talk of that kind of stuff, my parents and relative used to think I was so weird, you couldn't believe the arguments we used to get into over me even wearing my pendant." Taking another sip out of her cup, Bulma tucked herself in tighter into the chair, and gave a tiny contented smile into her mug. There was something so liberating about finding another soul so like your own, someone genuinely kind and caring, without any pretension or bitterness to stain her. It was nice to find someone like herself, that carefree innocent, someone who gave a damn for giving a damn's sake. Someone who wouldn't judge her because of her money, who would like her for her and not who she knew, or as a chance to be close to her when it all came crashing down. Someone of substance, a good girlfriend; the start of a good friendship?

***

Two days since they had seen the man's apartment, discovering that it was truly possible for someone to disappear without a trace, when did this case go from bad to worse? It was hard enough admitting that the snot nosed know-it-all had a little more on the ball than first suspected, but that he could be right, that something truly odd and mysterious could have happened to his man was more than Jackson's ego could bare. They had already been through a day of questioning this Yamcha guy's friends, talking to other models, store employees, college buds, neighbours, even the grocery this guy went to. So far all they had learned was that his disappearance was sudden and unexpected, as much as this guy was a player, he didn't just up and leave, well, not his apartment. After hearing the stories of the sexual exploits, and the girls he had and ran out on, Jackson decided that if he was ever going to have a daughter, she was either going to all girls' school or cloistered nunnery. It was a hard adjustment anyway, coming to his country, but remembering their opinions about women, the rules about walking a few steps behind still applied, if only in mentality, and it must be hard for a woman to make her own way. After hearing almost everything they could about the missing man, there was only one more stop left, at some point they would have to pull his phone and cell records and see his old girlfriend, the one every one of his current group of friends had commented on. A poor little rich girl she was, that wanted to live the high life and got burned, tried to be the perfect sex kitten and when someone finally called her bluff she wimped out and let with her tail between her legs; nothing but a spoiled child who couldn't stand rejection. If she was any more shallow then the people he had been meeting were he dreading that interview more than anything in the world. But right now, the forensics report on the carpet, glass and hair fibres around the crime scene were finally in; might given them another area to look into before they were faced with another size one twit.

"Well, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, I found your boy's blood type and hairs matching those on his brush by the missing bed in the furniture department. Looks like he was there, either before, after or during the robbery."

"Well, at least we know he was there, and injured enough to bleed on the carpets, I'd say that's a good thing, or a step in the right direction at the very least." Krillin replied, countering the sour, serious expression of his two partners.

"Well, no exactly, that's where the bad news comes in, or maybe we should call Ripley's instead."

"I didn't know pathologists had a such of humour." Jackson said, his anxiety to finish the baffling case quickly flaring up more with each passing day; the last thing he needed was a wise-cracking scientist.

"Are you kidding, if I didn't see the reports from the scene, I would have thought this was some gag, and no there was no blood in the carpet fibres, it was on this glass, if I can call it that, there were shards around the missing bed. As far as I can tell, it's strontianite, it's a hard salt used in fireworks, I can believe anyone could actually mould it into a glass. I guess it's possible, considering." The pathologist didn't even bother to look over at the detectives, he didn't know why he bothered going through the explanation of all of this; heck the whole thing was completely puzzling to him.

"Considering? Considering what, I took criminology when I was in university, not science. What's so special about this stronti stuff?" Jackson replied, looking over at his partners. Krillin was sporting an expression much like his own, one of annoyance, boredom and confusion. Sparing one glance at Yashimoto, he was surprised by the nervous look in the young investigator's eyes; maybe he actually understands what the guy is talking about. Still, the glint in those deep brown eyes were more of horrible realisation, as if understood the deeper meaning beyond that of the forensics report. That guy was definitely weird.

"Well, strontianite is also found in bones, it's SrCO₃, and strontium is close in properties to calcium and one can substitute for one another. When it's in the ⁹⁰Sr form it can accumulate in the bones of humans and cause cancer. It's fairly rare; the percentage of strontium in the world in radioactive form is minuscule, but ninety percent of the sample is of the ⁹⁰Sr form."

"What, that doesn't makes sense at all. W why would someone create a container out of fireworks material that has the potential to give them cancer? What did they do, grind up radioactive bones, melt them down and mould it into glass?" Krillin asked, the explanation growing stranger with every new piece of information.

"Well, a form of glass, yeah. I don't know where or how they would be able to do it, the only way you could get that much material is if the bones were exposed to long periods of radiation, or they were already cancerous. Well, on these little shards of radioactive glass we found a little wax, some residue and two different blood types. One is type O, your guy, the other is AB, and what I found about that blood is a report all in itself. Blood type AB is rare enough, but the hormone levels in the sample were off the chart, even with measured amounts of people close to death. The concentrations of adrenaline and testosterone were above the level even anabolic steroids could produce, but I couldn't find any significant amounts of endorphins, which might are not consistent with a person near death. The red blood cells and the white blood cells are like that too, at a level higher than any human being. The hemoglobin molecule typically have a single iron (II) atom and are arranged in groups of four for the purpose of oxygen transportation. The blood cells here have four types the iron content, and only two hemoglobin cells per red blood cell. Aesthetically and physiologically, it's beautiful, transport twice as much oxygen to a site in half the time, it even has mitochondria to propel it through the blood stream. I'll tell you though, it had me stumped for the longest time, I had thought when I first saw the hormone counts and the odd blood configurations that it was some kind of nanotite technology, I'm still not convinced. The only other thing I can tell you is that the mysterious blood belongs to a male, there is a Y chromosome, and 23 pairs of homologues in all, we were lucky enough to get one in the middle of mitosis. One of the cells was dividing." He finally added, knowing that he had long since lost them but he might as well explain something to them.

"So basically what you're saying is that some wacko injured or cut Yamcha with a form of fragile, volatile glass that was radioactive, which probably meant that he lives near or is situated by an area with high radiation levels. This person, possibly crazy, has odd hormone level and a certain degree of genetic mutation as a result of being exposed to this radiation. In the struggle, the man gets cut. Is that what you're getting at?" The hard voice of the cynical Yashimoto said, adding only to the tension in the room.

"Yeah, and it could have been green skinned alien, or a odd monkey tailed mutation but I won't put any money on it. Or, they could have spread pig or chicken blood on the glass, considering they have mitochondria and a nucleus in their red blood cells. I'm just telling you what I found; I just give you the clues, it's your job to solve them."

"Sorry, but we are trying to take all of this stuff in. It's well and good when you are just analysing chemicals and fibres, but this case is weird enough as it is, the last thing we need is more facts that don't make sense and clues that don't add up to a logical conclusion. Anything else you have for us?" Krillin asked, taking up, once again the position of peace making in the volatile group.

"Just one thing, a possible reason why your victim might have died, if you think he has. The residue on the side of the 'glass' is a type poison, a bio toxin and pheromone complex, basically just a form of poison, infects the blood, almost solidifies the plasma, causes the platelets to bind to one another but it's a really ineffectual poison. I was doing a UV light spectrum on the carpet fibres to test for the presence of blood and it reacted on the mutant blood but not the human, I guess it was unaffected or was able to repel the toxin. Anyway, I didn't even realise that there was something more in it until after the UV test, the stuff just turned black when the light hit it, it didn't reflect any light at all. It took about three hours before it went back to normal, nothing changed in the basic blood work up, but there was a slight trace of serotonin, a neurotransmitter produced during deep sleep. As far as I can tell, once the bio toxin is stimulated, either through UV light or a particular energy wave length, the pheromone sends out this signal that causing the blood to become overwhelmed by, well, I don't know."

"You don't know? If you don't know why did you call and say that you had finished the report?"

"Well, everything up until the residue was finished, I figured any help I could offer to the investigation could be a help. But when I got to the blood, the only way to describe it is it's like it became something else, it didn't react with anything, the NMR and the IR spectrum didn't reveal anything, but it was like this poison had the blood in its grip and then after a short period of time, it just vanished. I know it's crazy, but that's all I can think of what it was. The strangest things started happening around the lab too, light bulbs shorting out, test tubes shattered, one of the refrigerators almost caught fire, and then it was all over. I'm still working on the chemical composition of the residue, but I might have to sent it out to an outside lab, and the blood out for a work up in the morning. I still haven't even typed up my report, since you were the lead investigators, I thought you might like to hear what I found first."

"Great, I think we are more lost now than when we started, but at least we have a few new areas to look into. How hard is it to make this strontianite stuff?"

"Not too hard, there are a few manufactures around this area, I'll give you the list of the fireworks companies that produce large amounts of strontianite. Giving you a lead on your perp, I don’t think I could help you."

"Well, we still have to find a motive, he couldn't have just gotten in without some kind of security clearance. I guess it's back to the store, eh, Ty?"

"Don't remind me, having to deal with those people is more than I can stand, how about we call, might save on trying to find a place to park, it's not good in Tokyo at the best of times but two weeks from the holidays. Well, thanks for getting us more confused." Tyrone said to the pathologist, he and Krillin turning to leave the cluttered lab.

"Oh yes, there was one more think, just a maroon sweater they brought in, found it near the leather department, it was so far away from the scene but they brought it to me anyway. Let's see, lamb's wool dyed with common industrial dyes, with traces of, get this, blue haired, real, honest to Kami blue hair. Who has naturally blue hair I don't know; it was found behind the display with the missing mannequin. I'd say you have yourself one careless thief." The three officers nodded once again to the pathologist, the man in the lab coat returning to his work, pondering what could make human blood go black and then completely normal again.

"Well, that was a waste of time." Jackson proclaimed, the three of them walking through the halls of the lab.

"You don't know, we at least have a new lead, well, sort of. But the blue hair on the sweater, doesn't that sound like the old girlfriend, I mean she worked there, maybe we should get her work logs, see where she was that night. I hate to say it but jealous girlfriend with lots of money, could hire someone to kill her old boyfriend."

"At this late date and time, if it was any crime of passion, it would have happened as soon as they broke up, or after the incident. And besides, why would she be in the store at that time, it would only implicate her."

"I don't know, maybe she wanted to watch, maybe she planned the whole thing, got to wonder what type of woman that is. Either way, we still have store logs and fireworks factories to get to. I swear, you must be psychic though, Yashimoto, take about a weird case, and you had it pegged all along."

"Yeah, it's a lot more complicated than I could have ever imagined."

***

One minute she was walking down the main shopping thoroughfare of the downtown, next she was in the deepest pits of hell, in the main hall of the palace of the damned and face to face with the grey pallor visage of the Lord of Hell.

"When I sent you up to the mortal realm, it was to find the monkey Prince, not to shop and mingle with the natives; I trust I was not too premature with my gift to you, Daima. You do have some news for me then?" Getting down on one knee, the demon in human form bowed her head solemnly to her over lord, keeping her mind clear from his sight and her intentions secret. There was no need to reveal her plans yet, particularly when it meant using the girl whose image was in the Lord's new mirror.

"I have made contact with the Saiyajin, my Lord, he is still on the planet, disguising himself in human clothes and walking among them, drinks and fights with them as well. He is aware of my presence as well, sir, though he is not threatened by me, and I intent to use that weakness to my advantage." Among other things.

"Do not get in my way, Daima, there are pits in this place that even my bravest soldiers fear to tread, but if you get in the way of me retrieving the girl, I will hurl you into them myself. You have your assignment, and will be handsomely rewarded for your success, but do not think to cross me. You may be of flesh and blood now, but it is my power that has made it so and I can easily take it away. I am immortal and all powerful, you will never escape forever."

"Then, if I may, sir, why do you not just recall the Saiyajin, is his life not a product of your power as well?"

"Why, Daima," he chuckled, the sound easing the tension from the kneeling demoness. "Is the task too difficult for you? The boy's great return to the land of the living is a consequence of a spell, the transfer of one lifeforce into another vessel, beyond my control. I had sent him up to retrieve for me a gift, a pure creature, but you had already figured some of that out didn't you?" Daima held back her gasp, damn him, how did he know, how much does his mirror show him, he could have been watching her the entire time and she would be none the wiser.

"But why would you send such a servant as Vegeta to collect something so important, you above anyone would know how explosive his temper is."

"Questioning my motives, Daima, I sent our little Saiyajin Prince because I knew he above anyone could seduce the girl and yet think nothing of killing her; it is against celestial law that I may take a virgin. And he did his duty well, probably thought he was getting back at me, silly fool, as if I don't think of every angle. After that, I would gladly grant him his life once more, with his rage and blood lust, it would only be a matter of time before he found his revenge against Freeza, and the ranks of my army would swell to unimaginable numbers. Pity he had to fall for her, destroyed all my well thought out schemes, but I can still take my revenge and now he has give me free reign to have the girl, it is only a matter of time before she's mine. And you will not interfere with my plan, Daima, that is a direct order, and do not think that I cannot read your hatred of me. Now go, and remember that I am watching you." She couldn't even reply before she was back on the street, a woman nearly tripped over her as Daima knelled in the middle of the busy sidewalk. She held back the urge to growl out in rage, she was now being watch, well, informed of that fact, and she had lost one of her main trump cards against Vegeta and the Hell Lord. If she were able to take Vegeta by surprise, or use the girl as a lure against him, she could defeat him, but alone she wasn't strong enough to perform such a deed. Damn it, she needed soldiers, strong mortal realm demons, but for that she needed money, something this new body didn't come with. Where in the hells was she, a beautiful woman going to make that kind of money in such a short time? Beyond that, she was feeling weak, this human body didn't have half the energy of her natural form, she needed energy, the kind one gets from draining a man. Not watching where she was going, she ran into her answer as a young man in a suit bumped into her and smiled once at her face and then down at her chest. Smirking at his expensive clothes and watch, Daima lowered herself to provide him with a better view of her body. Letting her hand travel where it may, she pulled him up to eye level once more and gave the sexist smile she could muster. Maybe her luck was changing after all, hitting two birds with one stone, mortal realm certainty had much to offer.

***

It was painfully easy to get back into the lab, locked doors and security devices no match to his skills long ago honed in beating out curses and hexes. Damn it but these humans were too curious and smart for their own good, it's bad enough Krillin and Jackson were looking deeper into the case but the forensics report, strontianite glass and blood that was not human, they were closer to the truth than he could imagine. Shivers went up Yashimoto's spine at the thought, when they identified the glass, a combination only produced in the lowest levels of hell, used only by the great wizons for their most powerful concoctions. From the sounds of the report, it was a something strong for someone powerful; dear heaven, he had found her, it was the only explanation. She must have been in the store that night, and he sent an assassin with the potion to do what? Why would he want to corrupt her blood when it would just purify once again, give her a drawing potion that would attract the worst of demons, allow them to weaken her purity and allow their evil to infest her blood, but only temporarily? He was certainly not privy to the Demon Lord's thoughts, but there was something more here, something grand, possibly on a celestial scale. Did he think he could tip the balance with the death of this girl, bringing her to his side; she was strong, but only in her goodness and she would not be a decent enough fighter to be of any use to him. Maybe there was some code he wasn't looking at, some law he was unaware of. At least the report pinpointed what he was looking for, a being, male with inhuman physiology and strength, like a human and not, wonder how the scientist would react if he knew how close he was with that monkey crack. Prince Vegeta in mortal realm, on earth, he must have been the first to come, the first portal, and now three more, including his own had been opened. His duty was still clear, he had to stop Vegeta, the most feared and deadly of hell's assassins. He was the primary threat and apparently the killer of this Yamcha, but why was this potion used on some hapless human and not the pure one, could she have been hiding? Just the very thought of having to organise this in his mind gave him a headache, and slipping into the lab, he walked up to the computer terminal in the back of the lab. Why did that human had to stumble on this, if the word got out that there were inhuman creatures walking among the humans, or that demons were real and present it would cause pandemonium. He knew he had to dispose of the glass and blood samples, and any other information linked to this case, or to the pure one. It would be ease enough to destroy the physical evidence but what was heard, the lab tech and the two policemen's memories could not be completely wiped clean. Once he was finished with this case a temporal correction would have to be in order; this was getting too dangerous for his liking.

* * * * *