To those of you who think I abandoned this story, obviously I did not, but a few little things known as school, work, life and other writing projects keep cropping up and making it very hard to finish this. There is also one 'Saigyno' word which was found using the ever trusty web site, http://www.ceantar.org/Dicts/search.html. I'll even tell you that it's a term of affection.

Part 4

Slowly by slowly it began to return, reality seeping through the black wall of unconsciousness with just enough sense to leave him aware of two things; he was in pain and he was freezing. Maybe it was all a dream, he thought, the torments of hell and the existence that came after was nothing but a dream induced by the sedatives used in the regeneration process. He would awake soon from the swirling, shifting blue liquid cocoon. The images of eternal hellfire, his demonic reincarnation and a blue haired angel would vanish when he opened his eyes and returned to the waking hell that was life in Freeza's service. He would once more be on that frozen dead world or out in the dead nothingness of space. Even in his dreams he was tormented with death, but then that was what he was and all he had ever been, dead inside and out, dead to everything when Vegetasei's end came? Or was that, his planet's final moments, Vegetasei's death, nothing but a dream as well, grown out of the mind of a boy too young with a too active imagination? Maybe the world that would greet his eyes would be the palace, with his sensei looking over him and guarding him as Nappa had every day of his life. It was Nappa-san who had told him all these stories of Freeza and his lackeys, not that the young Prince needed fairy tales to make him nervous about the tyrant. It was all a nightmare borne of childish fears, all of it to end with the opening of his eyes. So why was he resisting? All the pain, the cold, the pull of that sweet black night that let the images of memory and dream flash to life and bleed together, passing before his eyes like a living collage, his life and a hundred versions of it joined with no beginning or end. It was not real, it was nothing but a dream, simply a dream that would end when he opened his eyes …the images faded … opened his eyes …darkness enveloped him … open … but what if nothing is there, it's all a dream?

WAKE UP!

Screaming into being, reality asserted itself with the crushing of glass underfoot and he came back, alive, whole, in pain, and not alone. He didn't wait but roared into action, opening his eyes wide and searching out for the source of the gaze that he suddenly felt boring into him. His will worked against his body for ten seconds before his body took control again. Had it been anyone but himself, he might have laughed at the comical display, a dazed idiot bounding to his feet only to topple over. All he could do was groan at the pain that lanced through his body and lodged in his head. With the pain, the full brunt of his situation hit him as well, compounded by the icy wind that rushed through the hole left in the wall from when he unceremoniously encountered it earlier. His life of torment ended when Freeza took his life, only to suffer far worse in the pits of hell. Condemned for his crime, he continued his mercenary existence only to be sent on a mission for a woman, a blue haired angel … with glowing red eyes! With that the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and he groaned out in pain. He had failed, the Lord of Hell had taken her and he had to get her back!

Starting to recover from the earlier fall, he was opened his eyes and he found himself staring up at sword poised a few inches from his throat and a male he had never seen holding the other end. Had circumstances allowed, he might have kicked himself for his stupidity. From the beginning he had been at a disadvantage as he tried to catch up without being caught, all the while underestimating his adversaries. He was played for a fool and she paid the price. Once more he would descent into the fiery depths of hell and by the look of the man above him, he would be going by the same route as the first time. He still couldn't move and everything ached; damn it but that woman could pack a punch, though his enemy didn't have to know that. Staring up into a set of black eyes that appeared too dark and deep to be human, he slowly assessed his opponent, looking for any weakness or distraction that could be used to his advantage. The arrogant being had another agenda.

"So, Prince Vegeta, the demonic angel of death. I thought you were taller, and far more dangerous. Your reputation proceeds you, killer, I was expecting a harsh battle before I sent you back to the hell you crawled out of, but it seems someone has already done that for me. It must be humiliating beyond all reproach for a great warrior such as yourself to be caught so unaware. If you had been an honourable fighter I might have given you the death befitting a Saiyajin Prince, but you deserve nothing more than the mindless slaughter you have subjected on so many others." Hell help him, Vegeta bemoaned, he was about to be skewered by a wannabe super hero. All the man needed was a ridiculous name and a cheesy costume to make it official.

It wasn't too long before the rational part of his mind did pipe up once more. He didn't have time for this nonsense. It would only be a matter of time before the woman would be in that demon's clutches, if she wasn't there already. Still, his hazy mind couldn't keep down the uncertainties about the man before him. How did the black haired do-gooder find him? How could a human, part of a weakling backwater species know his name, his rank and the name of a race unknown to this planet?

"You shouldn't wonder so, your name is known far and wide in every corner of the afterlife." Damn it, he growled. The woman's attack must have done more damage than he had first assumed, to the point where he actually dropped his guard enough that his enemy could read his thoughts. But then, he must admit, this was no ordinary opponent. No human or mortal creature in this plane of existence could know of his rank in Hell's army. The ancient demon's voice wound through his head, the warning about what his presence on this planet had brought, not just from Hell, but from the other side of the celestial battle.

As Vegeta weighted the myriad of facts and questions that sprung up in his head, his opponent felt no such contemplative inclination. The demon hunter went through a great deal of difficulty to find him, and the angel meant to brag about his exploits.

"I've studied you, Saiyajin. You're nothing more than a disgusting, cruel, merciless killer, both in mortal life and the one after, serving any master that will allow you to kill at will, first Freeza, then the Lord of Lower Hell. By Heaven above, I can smell the degradation of your soul, the evil of your aura, the blood that stains your essence. Not even the celestial washing machine could rid you of it all. It is with the greatest joy that I rid you of this stolen life, taken from an unfortunate human that you have banished down to the pits of torment. You led me on a most confusing chase, even to the point of confronting a Pure being. How dare you touch her, you Filth; I should cut out your heart for that offence alone."

"Then do it," Vegeta snarled, his volatile temper flaring with every slanderous insult and over-the-top cliché. "Death and Hell's torments would be a welcomed escape from your never ending diatribe. How did you actually plan to get me back to Hell, baka, hoping to force me to suicide by talking me to death?" True to the honour the man spouted on about, he did not move or strike out in rage. But it was only just, Vegeta realised, a smirk spreading across the Saiyajin's face at the slight movement of the sword. It was barely noticeable to the human eye, but it was there just the same. The demon hunter was tense, shaking with rage, and nearly grinding his teeth together, and more importantly, letting his weaknesses show. That's it, Vegeta replied to himself, tightening and shifting his own body as the warmth and feeling drained back into his muscles. He needed only a few more minutes before he was ready to take on this little obstacle.

Like movements in a game of Earth chess, the Saiyajin was already working out his strategy. As holy and mighty as the demon hunter believed himself to be, the truth was more the former than the later. The man's aura was whiter than new fallen snow, but the smell of apprehension filled the freezing, drafty apartment. Just as he had thought, the boy was as innocent as a new-born pup, Vegeta smirked, probably the first time the little cadet had ever dealt with a creature from the Lower regions of the celestial plains. If the circumstances had not been so grave, he might have been offended that only a weakling boy was send to capture and subdue the very Dark Angel of Death. To think that the ranks of Heaven did not tremble at his name? For all the name-calling and pride, this particular goody-two-shoes was far below of his league, and could thankfully be disposed of easily. Besides, Vegeta sternly acknowledged, he had far bigger fish to fry.

The woman was gone. All traces of her and her mysterious power were beyond his sense, both Saiyajin and demon learned. He had thought that he had saved her from the attack but it was nothing but a diversion, a means of infecting her with a demon essence, and it had worked brilliantly. Damn it, why did he always feel one step behind? Now the woman was possessed by one of Hell's terrestrial army, a shadow demon. He had no idea of how long ago he had been knocked unconscious, but the lingering threads of a demonic portal gate still hung in the air. He had to find a way down there, to either open the faded gateway again or return to Stalaunt and demand a portal be opened for him immediately. If not, she would trapped in the pits of Hell for all eternity as a generator for the demon lord's plans for conquest, or worse, a slave for the Demon's personal use.

Even with his worrisome thoughts, his eyes never left the demon hunter. The man was circling him, no doubt with the intent to intimidate a confession or plea for mercy from him. Stupid boy, he didn't have time to play idiotic mind games.

"Tell me, Saiyajin no Ouji," the shadow shrouded figure replied, his voice now terse and business like as he looked about the ruins of the apartment. "Where is the pure one? What have you done with her? Or maybe the better question is what did this to you? While they have deprived me of the opportunity to defeat you by my own merits, they did save me the effort. One should never look a bagged prize in the mouth." Silence followed the hunter's question as Vegeta's senses were focussed, waiting for the moment when he could attack.

"Why don't you tell me what happened here, Saiyajin? You couldn't have been working alone; you don't have the power to escape Hell, or use of the kinds of dark magic that would require the strength of a Pure Soul. Nor do you have the influence to procure a potion created by the great Wizons, but the human's death had all of your earmarks."

"Foolish boy, you think that this is over a pitiful over sexed human? You are indeed blind to the truth, even that which is right in front of your nose. There's not a creature alive on this planet that could possibly hurt me, neither is there a normal terrestrial bound demon that could cause me any harm at all. Who then, who would have enough influence to have such a potion made, take down a pure soul, or command and transport a creature strong enough to defeat me? And, if you had any sense at all, you would ask who has the power to open portals from the depths of Hell to the mortal plane?" It was the last question that must have done it. The lingering impressions of the portal grabbed the demon hunter's attention for a split second. With a turn of his dark head, the man had sealed his own fate and the once pained and prostrate Vegeta sprain to action. His muscles cramped and stiff from the cold, the Saiyajin was still infinitely faster than the demon hunter and knocked the other man to the floor with a crude attack.

In one second the tables had turned. The hunter’s sword was thrown across the living room floor, and the Saiyajin found himself staring down into a set of eyes as dark as his own and as innocent as the woman's, glazed over in shock and pain. Good, Vegeta thought smugly to him, serves the boy right for daring to match himself to a Prince of Vegetasei. Rising to his feet, the Saiyajin crossed his arms about his chest and smirked down at his felled opponent. One booted foot pressing down on the man's chest. He smirked at the sudden reversal of their situations and like the Saiyajin that he was, he meant to gloat about it.

"So you are one of the stalwart demon hunters, angels so mighty and deadly the legions of Hell shudder at your name? I must admit, I was expecting more. The hunting of terrestrial demons must have made you soft, if there was anything to begin with? Foolish boy, thinking you could take on a warrior from the lowest pits of Hell with a simple sword and a few threats." Beneath his foot, the Saiyajin Prince watched as the man growled out in pain and rage, futilely struggling to get free. The icy winds were still blowing wildly outside but as he let his ki swell about him, the apartment began to fill with warmth. Catching the faint scent of burning and a shifting of the air in the confined space, the Saiyajin turned his attention back to the demon hunter, who at that moment, had gone still under his boot. Even in the shadows, he could make out a shocked expression glowing out of those black eyes. Of course, Vegeta told himself, his arrogance growing larger by the moment. The hunter must have realised that death was upon him, brought on by the very Angel of Death. Charging a small ball of ki in his hand, he levelled it at the prone figure's head.

"Let this be a lesson for you; never turn your back on the Saiyajin no Ouji." Too late did he hear the high pierced whine of glass being crushed under-foot, and the sudden smell of evil in the air before a heavy hand grabbed him about the neck and he felt his strength being drained from his body.

"Maybe you should listen to your own advice, 'Saiyajin no Ouji'." A mocking voice hissed into his ear as his assailant picked up by his neck and began to choke the life out of him. Batting and ripping at the mysterious figure's hand with no success, his opponent began to taunt and laugh at the struggling Saiyajin.

"Not so strong now, are you, silly little monkey prince. To think all the trouble you put the Master through, he'll be so happy when I take you back to Hell, especially when he sees I'm going to be bringing a demon hunter with me as well. I'm sure he'll want you both to be present when he drains the woman and shatters the dimensional gates. If it weren't for you, Vegeta, this day would not even been possible. If you hadn't fucked her, the Master never would have been able to take her.

"Poor little Prince, thinking you could protect her by defying his wishes, to go through all of this just to end up as a tile on the throne room floor." With every word that hissed from the Wight's mouth, Vegeta growled, both at the creature who was slowly draining the life out of him but at himself. What had he done? In the beginning, he meant only to take back the life that was stolen from him, having the girl and defying his master merely a bonus. How had she done it? The simple lay turning into a fascination to the point where he was giving his very life to protect the Chikyuu-jin girl, but in the end it was him and his arrogance that had would be her ruin. Behind him the Wight simply laughed, sensing the desperate thoughts that were whirling through his head, but with every struggle a little more of his energy was leached away. No, he had to protect her. It was his fault, Vegeta cried out to himself and the spark of light within him, the one that had been growing since he first met her, seem to spring to life. Not caring about anything but getting away, the Saiyajin formed a ball of ki in his hands and shot it backwards. A cry of pain from his capture confirmed his aim was true. Instantly the Wight threw him across the room, and his weakened, body crashing to the ground. Fighting to stand on his shaking legs Vegeta watched as the powerful spirit recovered as well, its deadly white features set in an angry snarl.

"Mortal filth," the demon creature hissed under its breath. "I'll rip your heart from you chest and drain you whole, just as the Demon lord will be doing to your little whore." Panting heavily from the effort it took to stand, Vegeta searched once more for the small store of power that he had drawn his first attack from. The Wight had drained so much, taken all that it could find but somehow that one spot remained untouched. Hearing the mention of the woman, the Saiyajin redoubled his efforts, his unexplained concern for the pure creature causing the spark to flare again and he gather another ball of ki, waiting for the right moment to strike. He didn't have to wait long as the Wight screamed an unholy shriek and flew at him, its talons at the ready to rip him apart. There would be only one opportunity to hit the Wight in a weak spot and with every step it took towards him, his eyes trained on the centre of its forehead. Not being able to wait, the Saiyajin gathered his energy and stretched out his hand to fire, but was caught surprised as the demon cried out again, this time in agony. Before his eyes its body was enveloped in flame and disintegrated into white ash. Shielding his eyes from the blaze, Vegeta looked up and found himself once more staring down the length of a heavenly blade and into a pair of determined black eyes.

Neither man spoke, both sizing up the other now that the truth had been revealed. Though he refused to let the words leave his mouth, the Prince was impressed by the young man's skill; to kill a Wight was no easy task. The hunter too seemed to watch him, confusion and hope showing in the man's eyes. They may have stayed in that tense battle for a while if the matter at hand had not reared its ugly head. From inside the apartment, the strange energy of the vortex shifted again. They both knew that the portal would soon be closed and with it, any chance they could possibly have of stopping the Demon lord and saving Bulma.

"I can't believe I'm even suggesting this madness, but I need you to lead me into Hell, Saiyajin. If half of what the Wight said is true, we are on the same side, serving different masters but both wanting the same end. The fact that the Wight attacked you shows that you are just as much an enemy of the Demon lord as I." Scarcely believing what he was hearing, Vegeta held back a growl at the assuming angel. His pride and arrogance would not allow him to accept any help, especially when the creature had saved his life. Caution and reason were more powerful than his pride and he sighed in defeat, grudgingly accepting the help that was being offered.

"I will accept this temporary truce on condition that when this is all over, you and I will continue our fight and when I defeat you, the heavens will grant me the life that was stolen from me by Freeza." Just as disgusted by the following union, the demon hunter nodded his agreement, then smiled and cautiously extended his hand.

"I agree to your terms, Vegeta no Ouji. You have the word of Yashimoto, commander of the demon hunters." Eyeing the hand suspiciously, Vegeta hesitantly touched his own to Yashimoto's in agreement, only to pull it back as if it had been bitten. As if to acknowledge their new, tenuous truce, the demon hunter bowed, earning a growl from the impatient Saiyajin.

"Stop that nonsense, we've already wasted enough time as it is. The portal will only stay open for a while longer, if we don't get through now we will have to try and open it ourselves, or wait for the next demonic assassin to come through." Nodding in agreement, the pair ran back into the main living area, the swirling red doorway already growing smaller and weaker. Not waiting for the angel, Vegeta walked through the portal, his lungs almost choking on the ash filled, poisoned air, the conditions of hell painful even for a mortal Saiyajin. Finding himself on a set of black stone stairs, the Prince began to run, taking the stairs two by two, his footsteps echoed by the sure-footed Yashimoto behind him. He had been to this area of the dark palace before, the walls between the dimensions were weak at that spot and terrestrial demons, or those sent to the mortal plane would pass through this check in point. Even through the thick air he could smell her, the sweet lingering of her purity was still there, and so too was the noxious scent of the demon that had taken over her body.

Slowly by slowly he could feel his powers again, flowing from that small part of himself that she had touched. The Wight's presence had confirmed that she was now in the Master's lair, the time for battle would be at hand.

***

It must be a dream, or a nightmare, definitely a nightmare she told herself, nothing but the deepest pit of her subconscious could possibly create such a hell. All around her, there was darkness, a mindless, motionless darkness like the veil of deep sleep, or death. Like a swimmer caught in an undertow, she fought towards the surface, towards consciousness where she would see the light of day again. Yet, like swimming against the pull of the tide, she was pushed back into the void, keeping from her goal. Several times, after a determined and ultimately exhaustive effort, her fingertips would scratch the surface of awareness and for a moment, her eyes were open to the world around her. Oh dear Kami, she cried; nightmare was not a strong enough word for it all.

They came in little flashes, like watching a world illuminated by a strobe light. First it was only simple sensations, feeling herself moving but against her own will, as if she were a puppet while another power pulled the strings. She remembered a harsh scream, the shocked face of the man who had saved her life as he ran towards her, and the look of pain as he was sent barrelling into the wall by her own hand. After that the images blurred, more voices were heard, one frantic, the other … she shuddered to describe it. It wasn't until she heard another voice, a serpent-like, demonic voice that she descended completely into the darkness, her strength depleted and her mind unwilling to accept what she had just heard. Before the end came, she felt a shift in the air and a warm swell of power seemed to radiate from within her, strong and pure, but slowly being corrupted as her own voice spoke the demonic words and she was pushed into the void.

Now and then she would work up the strength to return to the edge, always hoping that this time she would break through and wake up in her own bed, all the images of this night dissolving into nothingness. The edge of consciousness was different though; the world outside her black prison was growing warmer and more evil with every passing moment. Walking for hours or minutes, her perception of time was lost in this place, she feared that the trek into this pit of degradation would never end. Nothing in her worst nightmares though could prepare her for the moment when the end did come.

Slowly the outside world changed again, the heat and screams that had assaulted her muted senses before had stopped, or rather, were overpowered by something else. She could not give it a name. It felt like she was standing in an infinite void, which was confined by walls unseen. She was alone and yet entities were all around her, beyond her reach and in writhing pain and instinctively she knew she had been here before. Somewhere in her fading memories she had been to this place and her blood froze with the realisation.

Never in her life had seen known such fear, her will divided between remaining in that black cocoon or facing her fear head on. Still under the control of another power, the decision was made for her as the force that held her under the veil of unconsciousness relented. Fighting to regain control, she was still caught between sleep and awareness, leaving her able to sense the world around her but unable to command her own body.

"So, Vegeta continues to be a thorn in my side; destroying my shadow assassins is just another discretion to add to the list. Damn that Saiyajin, it’s bad enough that the mortal man’s death brought the notice of the celestials upon us, now the demon hunters are closing in." A smooth, seductive voice broke through the din of screams that resonated through the hell Bulma had found herself in.

"But my master," a demonic, corrupted version of her own voice said. "Surely he is dead, I took care of it personally." At this statement, the first voice chuckled.

"As if one blow could crush a Saiyajin, particularly that one. If anything, that portal you created brought the demon hunter right to him, and to us as well. It is only a matter of time before we have the armies of heaven upon us because of this blunder. Fool, did you think about this at all? I needed to take her power slowly, corrupt her until her aura was as black as the pits of hell, maybe even make her my queen, but now my plan, my destiny could be ripped apart." With every word, the speaker’s ire grew, the seductive lilt of his voice becoming harsher and the dark entity inside of her cringed.

"But my master, I did as you wished. I polluted the pure one’s being and brought her to your domain. Please, I even retrieved the rogue demon, Damia, for you. Certainly that must prove my loyal and worth to you, oh demonic one." Her voice said, the evil’s fear growing stronger as it prostrated itself before its master. A soft groan behind her confirmed for Bulma the creature’s statement that she wasn’t the only one kidnapped. She almost felt sorry for the unfortunate woman, or demon; demon or not, no one deserved to be sent to this place.

The moan also caused the ‘master’ to turn his head and look down at the other captive, his reaction was far less than pleased. "If you had actually used the sense that the dark gave you, you would have known that that creature is not Damia. You brought me a worthless, mortal girl."

"But, but … my master. With that hair and those eyes, it could be no one else but the Succubius."

"Silence. You have failed me and for that you deserve an eternity in the tiles." The master’s voice thundered, the demon within her cringing at the threat, as unusual as it sounded.

"But, in light of your previous good services and for capturing the pure one." He continued, the scream calming to a seductive murmur as one smooth finger caressed her cheek. Pausing a moment as if to admire her, this prise that was finally in his grasp, a large warm hand came up to cup her face and Bulma felt a gaze burning into her own now blinded eyes.

"You shall be honoured with your squad." As soon as the purred words touched Bulma’s ears, a wave of pain swept over her and she reared back and screamed, her own voice and that of the expelled demon crying out in unison. Whether it was the demon’s pain or the force of separation, Bulma didn’t know. With one final burst of agony, the demonic voice completely disappeared and she was once more the master of her own body, which was quickly losing conscious. Her legs not able to support her weight, she fell to the floor, fighting to remain awake and aware, needed to fight against the ‘master’. She couldn’t let him destroy her, or that other mortal girl.

"My Lord," another voice called out, this one low with a thick hiss that made the speaker sound like a serpent. "What are you going to do about Vegeta?"

From the shadows, a figure stepped into Bulma’s limited view, her blurred eyes taking in only white skin and ornate, red robes. Its footsteps vibrated against the warm tiles that seemed to hum and shift under her cheek, the feel of them reminding her of the ‘master’s’ threat.

"Don’t worry Kracot, I haven’t forgotten about our interfering Saiyajin Prince. If you wish, you have my blessing to drain him dry and bring his worthless carcass back to me. Once I drain the pure one, I’ll use his bone to build her a throne. The rest of you guard the front entrance to the palace; I want no one to disturb my work. Now go all of you, guard the way and ready this mortal ‘Damia’ for sacrifice. No point putting a valuable life force to waste." A series of cruel laughs followed, the sound causing Bulma to shiver. Yet, no matter her fear or determination, the strain from her ‘possession’ and release finally caught up with her as she lost the battle for consciousness.

"You will be mine soon, my beautiful, pure queen." The voice whispered one last time. The words were still echoing in her head as she fell into an unwilling sleep.

***

Hiding in the shadows of the deserted hall, the demoness stalked every closer to her unsuspecting prey. Her blood sang as she moved swiftly and silently towards the pure one, her means to winning her freedom from the Demon Lord’s service. Damn it, Damia growled, which little human hole does this girl live in anyway?

After a day of searching through every terrestrial channel that she could find and using her own instincts and powers, Damia had discovered the name and location of the pure one. That part was almost too easy. It was bad enough that the girl stood out like a sore thumb in the mortal world, with her odd colouring and supposed beauty. The aura around her was bright enough to attract anyone with power enough to see it. Her investigation had also uncovered something slightly more disturbing for her state of mind; the previously ignored creature was now the centre of discussion in every corner of the demon world. The word had gotten out, not only is the woman a pure being with the Saiyajin Prince’s protection, but that the very Lord of Lower Hell was after her. Already it seemed that dozens of demons had taken the call to get the girl into Hell by whatever means necessary. It was even rumoured that the shadow assassins, the Hell Lord’s own terrestrial soldiers, were stalking the girl, wait for the moment to strike.

Of course it could never be nice and easy where she could just hire some mindless demons to take the girl. With everyone out to get the pure one, a demoness has to work for herself and do everything, even the dirty work. At least she would get to keep most of the money and the credit cards, maybe after she brought Vegeta to his knees and took her proper place by the Demon Lord's side, she could make a request to stay on this plane of existence. For all of their weaknesses, humans were amusing, and their greed, lust and hate was delicious.

Reaching out with her own sharp senses she smirked evilly, the white essence she had been tracking was growing stronger with every step. The miserable life forces of the other humans were falling away as she neared her goal, their sleeping presence all around her but another sensation tugged at her. Keeping her own powers as low as possible, she inched ever slowly towards the last door at the end of the hall. Something wasn't right. Someone else was there.

With all the focus her demonic powers had given her, she tried to make sense of the wash of power levels and shifts in the ether that seemed to centre in the pure one's home. All of them were so faint, their existence covered up by the sheer number of human life forces that she couldn't feel them until now. Throwing caution to the wind, she ran swiftly into the darkened room, her eyes fixed on the kicked in door until she saw the inside of the apartment.

The cold air whipped around her as she took in the devastation of the room, the broken and overturned furniture, and the sizeable hole in the wall. Her sense of smell was also working in overdrive. Already her nose had detected three distinct male scents, two she recognised as Vegeta and the Wight Kracot, the other was far more pure … a celestial? With their scents, the smell of blood, battle and death also lingered in the air, and on the ground, Damia noted, taking in the blood stains and white ash that covered the frosty floors. There definitely was a battle and someone didn't make it out. Why were all of these powers here, what had happened, and most importantly, where was the girl?

Even while a feminine scent was all over the ruined apartment, it wasn't as strong or present as the three male ones. Could it be that such a battle was simply fought in this space and the pure one wasn't even in? Damn it, none of it made any sense to her at all … until she felt it, the lingering threads she had only felt two times in her whole existence. In the far corner of the trashed living room she felt the weakened space between this plane and the next, crude in its power compared with the Master's but still there. A portal, and it could only lead one place, and she was sure that Vegeta had gone through this door, as had the pure one. No, it could not be too late for her, her plans, her scheme, that gorgeous dress she saw in that store window; it could not be over. There was no where she could hide, he would find her and drag her back to the burning pits, her punishment would be all the more brutal for her failure. Unless … if she could find the Saiyajin before the Master she could still claim her victory, and if a celestial was with the Prince, then the prize would be all the sweeter.

So caught up she was in her scheming and concentrations on the portal and apartment, Damia was unprepared for the slowly approaching human life force that suddenly appeared at the door.

"All right, no body move. You there, put your hands on your head and turn around slowly. If you've done anything to Ms. Briefs, I swear you'll be spending the rest of your life in a cage like the animal you are." Pesky mortal, did he think she was intimidated by his simple threats, or the crude weapon she could sense in his hands? That was definitely one human quality that she despised, that compulsion to stick their noses into matters that were none of their concern. It would be easy enough to dispose of him. Though, she realised, he could wake the whole building in the struggle, something she definitely didn’t need. Oh well, if she couldn’t just take him out with her superior strength, then she would use her own brand of combat; he was a man after all. Deciding to do it the fun way, she complied with his request, her hands taking a leisurely path over her body until they reached her head. Slowly she turned around, and bit her lip to keep herself from laughing, or groaning. She didn’t realise mortal men were so short, and bald, and had no nose. Puffing out her chest, she walked forward. Oh the sacrifices she made, who knew survival would be so demanding.

She walked slowly towards her prey, swaying her hips seductively. While the darkness of the apartment had blinded him, she could see him perfectly, and took the time to investigate her opponent. For his shortness he was well build, and held himself like a fighter; would have given her more trouble than a normal, mortal weakling she noted with a smirk. While he couldn’t see her clearly, he could see enough to know that she was a she, and she caught a gasp of shock and a hint of a smell she knew well on a man. Strong, she noted of him, in both physical strength and life force, his spirit is unsullied and powerful. Surprises can come in small packages; he could be an excellent sacrifice for the Demon Lord.

Deciding whether she should just attack him when she was close enough or get a taste of him, she was unprepared for his next move as he showed her the one thing she had never experienced in her life: concern.

"Kami, Ms. Ingenu, is that you? I’m so sorry for earlier, something about this case has made me jumper than usual and when I thought whoever attacked Yamcha could be after Ms. Briefs, I’ll admit I got a little gun happy. But you have to tell me, what happened here? Where is Ms. Briefs? Did you hear or see anything that might have suggested who did this? It almost looks like they bashed through the door and the wall at the same time and grabbed her. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, Ms. Ingenu, asking you all of these questions like this, you must be freezing. Here." Hardly pausing for breath, the short man finally stopped, looked right at her and smiled as he slipped the jacket from his shoulders and offered it to her. At first she almost reared back as if he was attacking her, her natural distrust of anyone not of the succubine coming through. Taking stock of him again she perceived no cruel intentions, his stance was relaxed, his life force a wash of kindness and compassion for her. Shock over took her and she finally grabbed the jacket, wrapping the warmed fabric against her skin, dampening the icy bite of the wind. The mortal man smiled at this and took her hand, rubbing it gently in an attempt to calm her.

"I know this is probably being a little forward, but I think we better get out of her; would you mind if we go to your apartment and talk. I’ll call the station and we’ll have a CSI team and my partners here in a few minutes." Still caught up in the shock of experiencing true compassion, the man’s words snapped her back to reality. She had to stop him, as nice as he was he would ruin everything. Yet, for the first time, she stayed her hand, not out of deceit but guilt. Damn it, Damia berated herself, she was a demon, a resident of the lowest pits of hell, she couldn’t feel kindness for anyone.

Not noticing the mini-war that had gripped the demoness, Krillin turned back towards the door, hoping that she would agree and follow him out to the hall. Hearing a slight shifting of the woman’s clothes, he kept walking. No matter what Jackson had said about the woman behind him, he liked her. She had strength, he admitted, and a lot of spirit. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could finally get a …

"Stupid idiot." Damia muttered to herself as she watched the short man fall to the ground face first, her hand still tense and ready to strike again if he showed signs of life. He never even saw it coming, wasn’t even expecting a hit from behind. Fighting back the sudden wave of guilt that overwhelmed her, she grabbed the fallen fighter by his collar and walked towards the spot where the portal had once existed, drawing on her own powers to open the gateway one more time. It doesn’t matter, she repeated to herself, it is either his life or hers, and she was not going to lose her life for some pathetic mortal.

***

Gripped by a heavy, unnatural lethargy, Bulma awoke and looked out into the pits of Hell. All around her the snapping of fire bursts and the screams and moans of agony echoed of walls of shadows. While there was no illumination but for the random bursts of fire from the floor, the very tiles upon the floor seemed to glow with an energy, the sensation red and painful against her bare skin. Had she been of her right mind, Bulma knew she would have been terrified, but her thoughts and emotions, like her body, seemed trapped under the veil of torpor. Slowly rising to her feet, she began to look through the massive void of a room.

"Come to me." A soft, deep voice whispered out to her. A part of her that could still reason and remember was screaming at her to stop and stay away, warning her against the pull of the voice. Yet, like a siren’s song, it called her forward and she followed, going wherever the speaker led her.

Walking further into the pit, her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness until she could see a single object off in the distance. Before her, glowing out from the shadows, was a gnarled, white throne that appeared to be fashioned from bleached, twisted bones. Off to the side and set against the shadow wall was a mirror, the edges of it created in the style as the throne, with a set of rib bones framing the polished, silver surface. As morbid as the mirror's design was, she felt compelled to walk towards it and gaze into its depths.

"Look at yourself." The mysterious voice commanded, the words bringing back memories of another voice, another time, and place. As hard as she tried, she could not grasp those memories, or any real memories before she had awoke in this place. All were slowly being eaten away by the force that lead her to this spot.

"Forget your former life. Come to me, embrace the darkness." The part of her that had warred against the voice was screaming at her to resist and fight the power she was under. Again the lure of the voice and its promise overrode her will, as the speaker's magick grew stronger over her, slowly erasing away her will and memories.

Looking up into the polished mirror, she almost gasped at the sight that met her eyes. Surrounded by darkness, her reflection seemed to glow, almost as if her body was creating a nimbus of pure, white light so strong that no shadow could touch her. The aura of light was the least of the surprises that she found in the depths of the mirror as she saw herself for the first time since she had woken up in this place. She was staring into a set of the most emotionless eyes and an almost doll like face, all spirit and strength draining away with her memories and will. Her hair had been styled and piled atop her head, the sea blue streaked with black. The make-up around her eyes was black as soot, and her lips were painted as red as blood, the dark colours making her skin unnaturally pale. Stranger still were her clothes, the whole outfit amounting to nothing more than a strip of black silk wound around her from chest to hips, the two ends falling down to her ankles as a skirt. The material was so thin it was if she were wrapped in shadows. Secured around her waist was an ornate, gold chain belt, an ebony inlaid scabbard and dagger hooked on the side.

"Truly a queen of the darkness." The strange, all seeing presence whispered into her ear, the words spoken so near to her she could almost feel a warm breath against her bare neck. Turning around in an attempt to catch the being who was stalking her, trying to destroy her and control her, and remake her as this unholy queen, she found nothing but an empty hall and mocking laughter for her efforts.

"Not yet, my pure one. I have more to offer you than merely clothes and material wealth. I can give you everything you could ever wish for, all would be in my power and your own if you join me. Look once more into the mirror and behold the glory that will be our reign." With every word the voice spoke, the lethargic spell over her grew more potent, her own sense screaming at her to fight and resist in reply. Her curiosity was stronger than her common sense and against her better judgement she gazed into the mirror once more.

Dozens of images of death and pain, rape, murder, blood and violence flashed before her eyes as the beasts from the underworld were raised up from the depths to being the apocalypse. She watched in horror as the earth grew black and cold, the water ran red with blood, the sun was blocked out as eternal night fell upon the world. And there, watching over it all were two beings shrouded in the shadows, the energy about the pure black. With one final push against an unseen barrier, the duo arose from the darkness, amidst the pain, horror, blood and death of the new time to claim their thrones. As the shadows receded and the pair was revealed, Bulma’s blood ran cold. The taller of the two was a demon, its grey, scaled visage, bat-like wings and red eyes were so monstrous she clutched at the handle of the dagger for fear the beast would leap out at her through the mirror. A desire to destroy the mirror and the future it prophesised welled up inside of her, until she beheld the second figure. Smaller in size but no less demonic in appearance, Bulma found herself staring into her own eyes, the sparkling blue replaced with pure black, her blue hair stained red with blood. Like the reflection before, she found herself staring into a face that was hers and yet wholly alien to her. Transfixed by the black and red version of herself, she was unprepared for when her reflection smirked and began to scream. The face transformed before her eyes, the features growing wider and more masculine, even as they tightened in pain. When the reflection finally resolved, a tear fell from Bulma’s eye and she called out a single name. In the six months since that name had first passed her lips she had spoken it with the tenderest passion and the harshest curses but it was with sadness and pity that she spoke it now.

"Yamcha."

Slowly it dawned on her, the bone frame made of her former boyfriend’s ribs and skeleton, the mirror’s surface was his skin, pealed away from his body and plated with silver. When she looked into those agony filled eyes and worn, tortured face she knew that somehow he was still alive through all of that, awake, aware and in complete agony.

"It’s the perfect fate for that mortal, isn’t it? A man so obsessed with outward appearances, he can now spend the rest of eternity as the item he was so enamoured with, reflecting the beauty of the creature he once shunned, the new queen of the night."

Hearing those words and seeing the torment the speaker forged, the haze that held on to her was burned away. Her disgust, fear, and anger at the being who did this deed was stronger than the will of the demon. With one final gasp she ripped herself from the lethargy and everything hit her at once. Tears poured down her face, adrenaline pumped through her veins, the force of everything causing her to shake. Whatever she could, by whatever strength she had she would stop the maniac who did this to Yamcha, the demon in the mirror. With every scream that emanated from the mirror all of her emotions became stronger, her hatred more pure as her grip tightened on the dagger at her side.

"Excellent. Can you feel the power your anger gives you? Feel it coursing through you, give in to it, give into the hate." The seductive voice whispered to her again and she almost gave in, the desire to give into her heightened emotions so strong. She couldn’t, she couldn't give into it. That was the first step that way would lead her to the future in the mirror and that demon with soulless black eyes and blood red hair. With everything she had she fought against that evil and her own helplessness, but how could she fight such a power, one she couldn't even see?

"So you think you can destroy me?" The voice said again, chuckling at her attempts to oppose his will and fight against him. Were she one of the great pure warriors of long ago he might have felt true fright at her resolve, but from all of his sources, the girl before him was weak, physically insignificant and feeble willed. If it were not for the energy that radiated around her he would have never guessed the girl's true identity. But a pure being she was, the light proclaimed it, and once he had taken that light victory would be his. He needed only to overcome her will and flood her with hate, or if she resisted, he could take her more forcefully, even her physical innocence was no longer a worry. It was almost too easy, and suddenly the demon lord craved more. He wanted to see that look of anger and defiance in her eyes. Inside this fragile, beautiful creature was a will that had beaten back his own and he wanted to bring it out again, he wanted the tigress, the demoness to walk by his side when the heavens themselves fell. Skimming through her thoughts, he already sensed her growing hatred, despair, and will to fight against him. A smirk spread across his lips as he decided to let her fight against him, his victory being all the sweeter for having beaten her mind, body and soul.

"Do not worry, my lady, to find me, you only have to look in the mirror." Loath to see what new torture the hideous creation would show her, she looked up in shock when Yamcha's constant screams of agony suddenly ceased. Looking out from the silver plated skin, she found her reflection had been restored, with the exception of a large grey hand on her shoulder, and a huge, grey skinned demon behind her. He was like something out of a horror movie or her deepest nightmares. Covered with tiny grey scales and with pure red eyes, he had human features, and a set of bat-like wings pushing out of his back. Bulma's blood ran cold in fear. She would have screamed in terror but her throat was choked over. The whole scene was the highest amusement to the demon as it began to chuckle, then laugh, a hollow, hateful sound that caused the hairs at the back of Bulma's neck to stand on end.

"What happened to all that strength and determination? It doesn't matter to me; I can feed off your fear just as easily as I can your hatred. Give into your emotions, join with me." This was it, there was no where left to run, no one that would come and save her. Fighting back her fear, she decided to face her fate and turned around, the dagger ready in her hand to strike at the demon. To her amazement, she found herself alone again, the giant winged creature no where to be seen. Her body tense and her eyes darting back and forth, she nearly jumped out of her own skin when a low moan pierced the heavy silence. Following the anguished sound, Bulma gasped in shock and her fog-filled memory kicked in.

"Mona, Mona!" Bulma cried out to her unconscious friend, the mortal girl that they had been talking about earlier. Not only was her own life at risk but they had dragged another, completely innocent person into this madness. No matter what, she had to get Mona out of here, her conscience couldn't face the possibility that Mona might die for nothing more than concern over her. Shaking the red hair girl lightly, Mona moaned once more and her eyes peaked open, only to close again as she clutched at her sore head.

"Didn't I tell you that we'd be regretting that good time we had last night?" The other woman croaked out before she dozed off again and against her better sense, Bulma laughed at the joke. Thank Kami, she realised, her friend had no clue where she was, or what was happening. An uncontrollable need to protect overcame Bulma and she grabbed Moan's arms and pulled on to her feet, struggling to support the added weight.

"Tragic, isn't it? What to do, what to do?" The voice rang out one more time, Bulma's whole body tensing in anger, the evil that resided in this being beyond anything she could imagine. No matter what, she would fight her way out; she couldn't let Mona suffer in this hell hole.

"But how are you going to get out?" The speaker mocked her again. "There is only one true way out of here: if I let you. And to show you my generous nature, I'll give you a fighting chance. I'll make a portal capable of transporting one of you, and only one. You can either submit to me and save that weakling little human, or leave her here and save yourself. Oh the moral dilemma, whose life is more important? Hers, or yours?" Oh Kami, what a choice. She couldn't leave Mona here, the depravity and suffering of this place was overwhelming, how could she leave her friend, anyone in such a place. Shaking with the stress of it all, Bulma felt the weight of Mona increase by the minute, like she was carrying the weight of all humanity on her shoulders. She couldn't give into him, she couldn't just submit. Everything the mirror had shown her would become a reality. It was the cost of Mona's life for the earth, maybe even more than that; she couldn't keep the evil at bay, she couldn't condemn her friend to this.

Lowering Mona's limp weight to the floor, Bulma called out to the hidden beast.

"You have what you want, I'll submit to you. But first I want to see you before me, I want my new master to face me." With all the playful tricks he had subjected her to, she was completely unprepared for his entrance. In a blast of fire and smoke the demon appeared before her. Mentally she had tried to prepare herself for the moment when she would see this creature, but even the mirror's reflections paled in showing its true horror. With Herculean strength, she held her head up high, her body refusing to shake as she walked towards her fate. Her show of defiance must have amused the beast as he grinned at her, the expression causing her stomach to clench in fear.

"I see you have finally come to your senses, Pure One, but never had I expected to see such a will of iron, or such a spirit in you. You are worthy of your birthright, woman, the pride and strength of the pure beings of the past flows through you. Now come to me and I will open the portal for the other girl." Again that haze filled her head as he tried to force her to his will. The sensation was as strong as before but somehow she fought against it. Maybe this legendary power she was supposed to wield was coming through, or her own will was completely focussed on the task before her. In either case, she walked towards him, hoping only that she had the courage to face this most horrific of fears. She only hoped that Mona could forgive her for what she was about to do.

The master smirked down at the approaching human, watching her intently as the black silk gown she wore swayed with every step of her body. But nothing was as becoming as her eyes, strong, proud, staring straight at him. Never since he had become the Lord of Lower Hell had any lower creature, demon or mortal, dared to look him in the eye as she was. Already he could feel himself growing excited, energy coursing through his veins. She was everything he had hoped for, like a pure being of old: beauty, strong-willed, and kind hearted to the point of stupidity. As if he would really let the other girl escape, not that it would do the unfortunate human any good. Once his dominion over the mortal plane began, she would be destroyed anyway. Besides, she would have her uses right here, as a blood sacrifice for his new Queen once he had turned her energy as black as his own.

Not allowing her a chance to run or change her mind, the Demon Lord pulled her into his arms as soon as she was within reach, extending his wings around them to secure her in his grasp. With one talon tipped finger, he traced the curve of her neck, jaw, chin and cheek as he forced her to look up to him. She truly was perfect and his, all his. Tracing over her soft, pliant lips, he bent down to taste them and begin the slow poisoning of her essence. So consumed with the prise before him, he was caught off guard when he felt her shifting in his grip and he cried out in pain.

Her mind was working a mile a minute as she took the bloody dagger from the demon's chest and aimed for his throat, his roar of pain telling her she had hit the mark. Inches away from slicing his neck, the demon roared again, this time in anger as he threw her across the floor. The force of the blow was enough to knock the dagger from her hands, her own body in shock and pain as it finally came to a stop. In that moment, even the air changed, the very tiles beneath her vibrated and screaming out with every spatter of blood that hit the floor. A few feet away from her, gnashing and roaring like a rabid beast, was the demon, his wide grey chest now sporting a large deep gash and a lot of crimson blood.

"You fucking bitch." It yelled, blood red eyes boring into her own and once more Bulma quaked with fear. In a second he was on her, one hand forcing her wrists above her head, the other held her hip in a punishing grip, pushing Bulma to the floor.

"I was going to do this slowly, carefully, but now I'm going to do this the hard way." The beast growled down at her and Bulma knew that this was it. The pain from her fall was nothing to this, it was worse than when Yamcha tried to rape her, oh Kami he was going to kill her, brutally and sadistically and there was nothing she could do. Licking its lips with the edge of a long, pointed tongue, the demon pinned her down underneath his weight. She could feel his stagnant breath on her neck, followed quickly by a burning sensation as his tongue traced a path from the base of her throat to her ear. Torn between crying out in pain or vomiting in disgust, Bulma could only shake in fear as the creature hissed into her ear.

"How appropriate, you spill my blood, so I'm going to drink yours." No, this couldn't be happening to her. Kami, she prayed again, tears pouring down her face, let this nightmare end. He was just millimetres from biting down on her throat when a black and one entity flash before her eyes and forced the monster off of her. Looking up into a furious face, Bulma smiled; her mannequin had come to save her.

***

So close, the Master had been so close to taking her, Vegeta repeated over and over to himself, his mind showing him in graphic detail what would have happened if he had not made it in time. After entering the gates of the palace of eternal damnation, he and his newest ally had fought tooth and nail through the dozens of guards that blocked their way to the main hall. The master had been preparing for his arrival and Vegeta was very pleased to find that he had ruined the carefully laid plans. Exhausted by the brutal fighting, he could only react as he saw the Master in his demon form above the pure one he had taken as his charge. Leaving Yashimoto in the distance, he flew as fast as his waning strength would allow him, crashing into the Master. So caught up with defiling the pure one, the Demon Lord was completely unprepared for Vegeta's attack and the Saiyajin Prince kicked the Master into the shadowed walls. Even though he had thwarted the Demon Lord's plans, it would only be a matter of time before the Master recovered and came looking for blood.

Speaking of blood, Vegeta growled low in his throat as his eyes finally came to rest on the object of the Hell Lord's intentions, the woman's gown and hands were covered in it. Damn it, he had come to late, there must have been an exchange of blood, or she had been attacked, from the dazed, pained expression on her face, it was the only conclusion he could come to. Not waiting for the Master to interrupt them, Vegeta grasped Bulma's hand and pulled her to her feet, hoping that the demon hunter could heal her before it was too late. As soon as she was upright though, the woman did the most unexpected thing, she flung herself again him, crying and hyperventilating as she thanked him between gasps.

"Oh Kami,--- you saved --- me, you ca…me and --- saved me. I tr…tried to --- stop him, I… I even stabbed him. He wouldn't stop, how can I thank you for saving me?" Alarmed at her statement that she had struck and wounded the Master as no one had ever managed before, he could help but smirk down at her. That inner strength and spirit he had sensed the first time he had meet her was coming through, and heaven and hell help any that dared to touch her. The white light around her was blinding, showing that she was alright, and with everything he had he would keep her that way. Pride and duty warred against each other, his desire to destroy the creature who had tortured him and made him a slave versus his desire to see his woman safe. At another time his answer might have been to the contrary, but with her now in his arms, he knew that he had to keep her from harm.

"We can discuss that later, when we get you out of here." He answered her, as he held her securely to his chest and began to run back towards the exit and the demon hunter.

"Wait! Stop! We can't leave my friend, I have to save Mona." She moaned and thrashed against him, surprising him with her strength when she managed to escape him. Maybe he was too hasty in praising her spirit for she obviously had no sense, actually running back into the main hall with the Demon Lord still about and no doubt very mad. His assessment of her common sense, or lack thereof, was confirmed when he saw this so called friend the woman was risking both of their lives for, her name like a curse on his tongue.

"Damia. I should have killed you when I had the chance." Deciding that he had enough time and power to rid himself of at least one enemy, he began to charge a ki ball in his hands. He was though, completely unprepared when Bulma jumped in front of him, shielding the sleeping demoness from him, her face resolute.

"No, don't hurt her. She's not this Damia or demon or whatever horrible thing people says she is. Even if it's true, she's my friend, I can't let her suffer here."

"Damn it, woman." Vegeta growled back, staring down into her determined blue eyes with a look that could freeze magma. "We don't have time to argue about this, especially over the life of some manipulative succubus. Any moment now the Demon Lord will be coming back, we have to get out of here before he …" The Saiyajin Prince didn't finish his thought before he was enveloped in a fire burst that originated from the floor. Teeth digging into his lip, he refused to scream out as the flames racked his body and stole away his already meagre strength. After a minute of torment, the flames died away and he sank to the floor, cursing his fate and his own stupidity.

"Too late, Vegeta, the moment is now, and it looked like you lost." The Master replied, his voice as smooth as silk and full of malevolence. Out of the walls of darkness, the grey nightmare emerged, walking slowly towards the trio of sitting ducks. No, Vegeta declared to himself, it would not end this way as he struggled to his feet, quickly aided by the woman. Feeling her cool, delicate hands against his blistering skin, his resolve was strengthened, he would protect her, even if it cost him everything.

"Oh Vegeta, so proud, so mighty, so stupid. Do you think you could possibly stop me now, you can hardly stand. I should rip your heart from your chest and eat it before your eyes for your betrayal. Naïve Saiyajin, did you really think this little rebellion would work? You could have been at my right hand, ruling any part of the mortal plane you wanted if you had only done my bidding and brought me the woman, though you will make my job easier now that you've bedded her. Take a good look at your whore, Vegeta, tell me, was that lay worth your soul?" The grey demon mocked as he stalked towards the couple. Already the gash on his chest was healing; even the accelerated healing factor of the Saiyajins was nothing to this demon. Looking down at the brave young woman who was sharing his burden, her eyes, though harden with determination to fight, he could see her fear of the Demon Lord and himself. What must she think of him now, knowing what he had done and why he had done it?

"On my word, run for the door over there and don't stop until you see a tall angel with a sword; he'll take you to safety. Forget that traitorous, red haired succubus and about me, save yourself, you are who he seeks." Vegeta whispered softly in the woman's ear, sighing as the scent of her hair filled his nostrils.

"No, I can't leave you or Mona. You saved me from the shadows; you were there in the store with me that night as well, it wasn't just a dream. After everything we've been through, how could I leave you now?" She replied frankly and with earnestness, and her earlier declaration of love echoed through Vegeta's head. Foolish girl, giving up her heart and life to him, he didn't deserve the compassion or love, or her unwavering trust. Damn it, the Saiyajin admitted, it would take a miracle from heaven to save them now.

"Lord of Hell," Or a pain in the ass with good timing. "I have come for the pure one, give her over to me and I will not have you brought before the Celestials." The annoying demon hunter's voice echoing off the shadow walls. At that threat, the Demon Lord turned to face the approaching angel, his smirk of triumph turning into a snarl.

"Detective Yashimoto?" The woman next to him whispered as she stared wide eyed at the demon hunter. The angel's whole demeanour had changed, with that blade in his hand and his body tensed for combat he looked like a warrior, like a Saiyajin.

"You overestimate yourself, demon hunter. Do you think you could possibly defeat me by yourself, with that simple sword of yours?"

"I've already defeated your guards here today, and legions of your followers during my service with this sword. It turned that Wight you sent to destroy us to dust, and it will do the same to you." With that, the demon hunter charged, weaving his way through the tongues of fire that leapt from the floor. Still charging at full speed, Yashimoto struck down with his sword, the blow designed to cleave the demon's arm from his shoulder. The Hell Lord was too quick, moving out of the way, though not fast enough as the sword cut through one of his leathery wings. Rearing back in pain, the demon lord stared at his damaged wing, cursing out as the wound refused to close, the power of the celestial blade was something not even his magick could overcome. The angel struck again and for the first time in a long time, the Master found himself taking the defensive, ducking and dodging to avoid the terrible blade.

What was happening here? How could he possibly be losing to one pitiful angel? In the corner of his eye, he could see the Saiyajin rising into the air with the woman secured in his arms. Damn it, he would not lose, not like this, not when his victory had been so close at hand. He would not be defeated by some overconfident pipsqueak with a blessed piece of metal. Taking matters in his own talons, he waited for an opening and struck, or rather stopped a strike, grabbing the sword tip in his talons. About to yank the weapon out of his enemy's hands, he screamed out in agony. Releasing the sword, he looked down at his burnt and bleeding hands.

"You overestimate yourself, demon." The angel said, mocking the Demon Lord's earlier words. Already he could feel victory was within his grasp. His newly found arrogance making him overconfident, the heavenly warrior attacked again, this time head-on. Preparing for his enemy to dodge, he was caught off guard when the large grey hand that grabbed hold of his sword arm. Caught in the unmoveable grip, he stared down into a set of blood red eyes that were now shining in triumph. The next thing Yashimoto knew, he was flying through the air, the sword thrown from his hand and his stomach burned in agony. Unable to control himself, he collided in the air with Vegeta and the pure one, sending the three of them sprawling to the ground.

"You better have a plan B." Vegeta growled to Yashimoto as he leapt to his feet and took up a defensive position in front of the stunned woman.

"I didn't think we had a plan A, but at this point rushing him is probably not the best idea." Yashimoto replied. About to bite back with a harsh remark, the Saiyajin halted as their enemy suddenly began to cry out, the wailing sound causing the duo to shudder. Not waiting to come up with a plan, Vegeta picked up the still vertiginous Bulma, Yashimoto trailing just behind him. He knew that sound, had heard it only once in his five years of service but the chilling scream never faded from his memory. It was the battle cry of the armies of Lower Hell, a call to arms used only by the Master to bring his troops to him. In a few moments, the palace and all the surrounding area would be swarming with demons, wights, orcs, shadows, and any and every creature under the Demon Lord's dominion. He had to get her out of this place, once the armies came there would be no chance of escape, it would be end of all of them.

The Master, it seemed, had different plans, as a wall of pure fire blazed before him, halting his retreat. With no where to run, Vegeta saw the only option open to him, his Saiyajin blood singing in anticipation as he faced his foe, the focal point of his hatred for five agonising years. Nodding to Yashimoto, he relinquished his charge to the demon hunter's protection. The borrowed time he had been living on was about to run out he realised, this would be the last. But like a true Saiyajin warrior of old, he prepared himself to meet the most glorious end, death in combat. One he knew he could not fail in. Letting his power burn around him, he cried out an ancient Saiyajin battle cry and attacked.

***

She was halfway through the emptied hallways of the eternal palace when she heard it, the wailing, high pitched shriek that signalled to all in Lower Hell to come to arms, to fight at the Master's side. Hell and damnation, Damia sighed to herself, she was too late, her final desperate plan had gone awry and her fate was now in limbo. There was no where she could hide, she realised, no corner of Hell or the mortal plane where she could find sanctuary. The only hope she had was still unconscious and strung over her shoulder, the strong, virtuous life force that existed in the diminutive mortal and with every step to the throne room, her desire to use it waned. What a time to grow a conscience, the demoness remarked to herself, staring down at the bald man. She had long ago discarded his jacket but the memory of the gesture and his kindness remained in her thoughts as the guilt for her actions churned in her stomach.

"This human is nothing but a plague to my mind." The succubus murmured to herself. The sooner she was rid of him the better she would be. She couldn't have this sympathy controlling her, she was a creature of the shadows. She was not meant to know these feelings.

With renewed determination, and a realisation that an army of demons would soon be approaching, she rushed head long into the throne room and was taken back by the carnage around her. The palace floor was a mass of flames, blood, the air thick with the sights and sounds of combat. Already there were demons heed the call to arms, dozens of creatures were morphing through the walls of the palace, all of them attacking two lowly figures, the pure girl and the dark, handsome angel that was protecting her. All around the pair, the bodies of dead or wounded demons were piling up but they still kept coming, hatred of celestials and the summons to fight all the motivation needed. The brawl against the celestial was nothing compared with the second contest, a titanic battle between the Saiyajin Prince and the Demon Lord. Damia watched amazed as the two giant powers battled, their energy beyond anything she could imagine. Both covered in burns and bruises, the fighters pounded one another, the force of their blows causing the floor to split apart and the whole of the palace to shake with their rage. Like a dance, the two of them moved with speed and grace, dodging and weaving, striking and countering, kicking and punching as the air vibrated with energy blasts.

In the middle of this brutal scene, she experienced the greatest attack of conscience. Everything she had ever known was telling her to charge the demon hunter and the girl, to fight on the side of darkness. It was that tiny, previously non-existent voice that yelled at her to help them, her only enemy was the Demon Lord and that she must keep him from his goal at all cost. This time she didn't even have to make a decision as the hand of fate took control as a large hand wrapped around her neck and hauled her off the ground.

"If it isn't the succubine bitch with a little toy." A harsh, low voice hissed into her ears as another hand plucked the human detective from her shoulders and tossed him into the melee. "I wonder, if I bring you in, do you think the Master will give you to me as a pet?" Not debating the pros and cons, Damia acted, following her gut instinct. Taking a look back at her lecherous opponent, she charged a small ball of energy and threw it behind her, aiming for her enemy's weakest position. The giant troll moaned in pain as he cupped himself, dropping the demoness.

"Works every time." Damia remarked, looking down at her felled opponent with glee. Long had she been a prisoner of the Lord of Hell and a plaything for his minions but no more. Her blood singing with combat, she destroyed another demon and another, her warrior instincts not dulling with time. Her attempts at power had failed, but she could still indulge in the one desire she had harboured through all of her captivity: revenge.

***

"Oh, this will teach me not to go drinking like that again." Mona moaned as she clutched her head and curled into a ball. She was in hell, her head pounded, her skin was hot and the world around her whirled with horrific sounds and smells. Grasping for her pillow, she noted to herself that when she felt whole again she was going to call the city and take a strip off of whoever it was that scheduled road construction for this early in the morning.

"All fangaris come, destroy the angel and capture the pure one." And while she was at it she was going to get after that movie crew. Next thing she knew all of hell would be coming down on her, with helicopters, explosions, hot leading men…

What met her eyes when she opened them was something very different.

"When I said I was in Hell, I wasn't kidding." She murmured as she looked out into a scene out of a nightmare. All around her, creatures she couldn't name whizzed past, some missing her by inches. Having no memory of how she ended up in the middle of a war, Mona peered between the dozens of rushing bodies towards the source of the action. There, in the middle of a ferocious battle, brandishing swords and keeping the nightmarish creatures at bay were Bulma and that tall, black haired detective. Now she knew this had to be a dream, next thing she knew that tiny detective with no nose would be flying through the air.

"Look out below!" A familiar voice yelled out and the young woman froze. No, Mona cried to herself, utterly stupefied by the sight that passed before her eyes. A moment away from wishing for ten million yen, she watched as the airborne detective collided into half a dozen creatures, knocking them down like bowling pins. The unusual attack was enough to shift some of the attention from Bulma and Yashimoto to Krillin, and the demon surrounded the dazed man, their weapons at the ready to rip the unsuspecting detective to shreds. As one particularly mean looking beast raised a war hammer over Krillin, Mona yelled out a warning and grabbed the closest weapon at hand, a beautiful, white metal sword. Not knowing whom or what drove her, she rushed at the troll and struck it, the blade slicing through the thick green hide like butter. The creature bellowed out in pain before it was engulfed in a burst of flames.

"Ms. Ingenu, what is going on? The last thing I remember we were in Ms. Briefs apartment but how did we get from there to here?" At least she wasn't the only one in the dark, Mona noted morosely, the thought not giving her much comfort, not that she could answer it in any case. Wherever they were, it was horrifically real, the sword trick proved that. It was also as just a strong a draw for those monsters as Krillin's drop out of the sky and they were quickly being surrounded by the twisted, frightening creatures.

"You guess is as good as mine. So far the only thing I can tell is that these guys are out for blood." she replied, motioning at the collection of demons, orcs, and trolls. "We have to keep them away from Bulma and that partner of yours."

"What?" Krilling exclaimed, taking a peak at where Mona was pointing. As if things couldn’t get any weirder he murmured to himself as he watched Yashimoto and an Elvira-esque Bulma battling the creatures.

"Now I know this has to be a dream. Ms. Ingenu, pinch me."

"Hate to break it to you, but this is no dream. You should have figured that out when you crash landed. I don’t have time to explain, I don’t even understand it myself." Mona declared before she started slashing at anything that came near them with the strange white sword. Fighting the urge to huddle on the ground and pray for it to be over, Krillin’s eyes went wide with fear as a huge beast rushed at the red haired girl, Mona completely unaware of the coming attack.

"Ms. Ingenu, look out!" Krillin yelled out as he drew his gun and fired at the charging demon, the bullet striking the creature right between the eyes and it went down like a ton of bricks. Gasping with shock of what he had just done, Krillin gripped the butt of his gun and fired at another beast that was rushing towards them. Knocked out of his secure disbelief, Krillin fired off every round in his revolver, the sound of the gun enough to keep most of the weaker beasts at bay.

"Ms. Ingenu, this is our chance. We have to go and help Yashimoto and Ms. Briefs." Not wanting for her reply, Krillin grabbed the redhead and ran, blowing away anything that would come near them.

"Yashimoto!" The angel looked up in shock at the sound of his name spoken by such an unlikely source.

"Krillin!" How did the human get here, Yashimoto wondered, his blood going cold with the thought that more humans had been brought to this horrific place. With every minute that past, the number of demons and hell beasts seemed to double. His arms ached from wielding the clunky demon sword, the pure one by his side was near to exhaustion from her efforts but the creatures kept coming. There was no stop, no end.

What was he going to do? There was no way that he could defeat Hell’s armies; with his entire force of demon hunters he could not perform such a task, let alone with a group of three weary humans. Their only hope for victory was the Saiyajin Prince now battling the Demon Lord. If Vegeta could defeat, or severely cripple their great Master, it could throw Lower Hell into disarray. If not, Yashimoto could hardly stomach the thought, looking over at the three brave comrades, he couldn’t let the darkness get her, or any of them. It would be quick and painless, their souls would go to heaven for the courage of this day. Steeling himself for that task, he still held the hope that Vegeta could do what no creature, mortal or otherwise, has even done, defeat the Dark Lord.

***

Slashing viciously, the thin demon blade clutched in both her hands, Bulma watched the blue skinned orc fall to the side, only to be replaced by a pure white wraith.

Outwardly, she fought bravely. A fire she never knew she possessed had been lit inside her. One after another the beasts of Hell had come, creatures out of myth, legend, nightmares and beyond human comprehension, and so far they all had fallen, defeated by her hand or her companion's. That the strange detective turned out to be a part of this bizarre other world had been the smallest shock she had experienced today. None of the alternate reality, this world beyond the mortal world and her role in it had sunk in yet, all of her energy and focus set on stopping this reality from destroying the mortal realm. Everything hinged on her, and the beings sent to protect her. She had to fight, but with every slash and strike the sword grew heavily in her hands, her muscles ached from the strain, her body unable to fulfil her will. No, her stubborn will exclaimed, drawing on another well of untapped strength, she could not give up, not with so much to lose. What about the images she saw in the mirror? What of Mona? What of her protector? Vegeta, the name was like the whispers of a faded dream in her memory, how she came about the knowledge she didn't know, but she knew that there was a connection between them. She had seen him in her dreams, he had saved her from the shadows, saved her from herself that night in the store, and was fighting now against the epitome of evil to save her again. And what if he couldn't, the voice of doubt whispered into her mind. She couldn't think that far, her mind focussed only on the next swing of her sword and the next enemy she felled.

"Yashimoto!" A single determined voice yelled out over the cacophony and Bulma gasped in shock; she knew that voice.

"Krillin!" Her angelic companion yelled back. Off to her left, Bulma could sense the police officer's approach as the mass of demon rushed out of the way of the blasting gun. Taking the chance to look away, she was greeted by the most unusual sight, that of the small, bald headed detective brandishing his gun while draggling a sword wielding Mona behind her. Bulma had to fight herself, her desire to run and hug her friend and unsure that she was all right was overwhelming.

"Mona!" She finally yelled out, her hopes rising at the prospect of help. She even seemed to glow brighter with relief, the light beating back the attacking demons better than any weapon. Kami help them, they were going to make it, Bulma's eyes noting that Mona held the angelic sword that Yashimoto had used to fight the Demon Lord. Hope died when she caught sight of Mona's eyes and heard Krillin's gasp of shock.

"Ms. Briefs, look out behind you!" The detective yelled out, the blue haired woman glancing over her shoulder and froze. A creature morphed out of the shadows, its multiple tentacles slithering above a massive rotund body. Its purple skin was covered by black ooze that ate away at the shrieking floor as it crawled along. In the middle of its body, one yellow eye glared right into her own blue ones, immobilising her with fear.

"A Watcher." Bulma heard Yashimoto shudder as tentacled beast roared, making its presence known to every entity in the hall. The angel pulled his eyes away and yelled a warning to the others to not look into the Watcher's eye, for it could paralysis its victim with a single glare. The warning came too late for her; she was already under the Watcher's spell and about to be crushed by an approaching tentacle.

"No, Bulma!" Mona's voice cried out. With the arrival of the Watcher the other noises, the constant beat of footsteps and shouts and cries of the other creatures died away, fear of the one eyed creatures even in Hell ran deep. Bulma could only stare into the malevolent, yellow eye and wait for the coming attack. A blow came from behind and Bulma was thrown forward several feet, her arms coming out at the last moment to break her fall. Moaning softly in pain, it took a second for her mind to register that she was alive before she looked to see why. Lying motionless next to her was Mona, the other woman's face was as red as her dishevelled hair from bruises and cuts. Green eyes glazed over in agony, Mona wheezed and gasped, unable to speak or draw in breath. Bulma crawled over to her friend's side, her hand touching Mona's back and she choked back a sob. The skin of her friend's back had been eaten away by the black ooze secreted by the Watcher's skin, the bones and cartilage underneath was crushed to powder by the tentacle's blow, a blow that was meant for her. Bulma couldn't move, her breath caught in her throat, her mouth unable to voice the anguish.

One person didn't suffer that impediment.

"No!" Krillin yelled, forsaking his own common sense to rush at the Watcher. He fired, not caring what he hit as long as he could cause pain. Two bullets struck the creature, one piercing a tentacle, the other hitting close to that great eye. At once the Watcher howled in pain and set its sights on Krillin. Too full of anger to heed Yashimoto warning, he grabbed another clip from his holster and faced the vicious beast again, only to find himself caught up in its stare and unable to move. Sensing his weakness, the Watcher struck, one foul smelling appendage wrapped around him and he was lifted into the air, staring down into that evil eye, a large black hole and a set of razor sharp teeth. Already the ooze was burning his clothes and skin but the paralysis had even affected his voice to the point where he couldn't yell out in pain. This was the end of him for sure, Krillin mused, still praying that it was all a dream and that he would wake up in a minute. Figures, he couldn't even pinch himself to wake up. The grip around him loosened and he was falling into the jaws of some imaginary beast. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a silver flash and something warm and soft collided with him.

"Men, can't take your eyes off them for a minute without them getting into trouble." A husky voice muttered and he found his face pressed up against a woman's chest, staring up into a red haired, green eyed, golden skin Venus.

"Ms. Ingenu?" He asked, his brain reaching out for the only woman he knew that resembled the woman who had just saved him from certain death, or his only means out of his dream world.

"This is no dream, shorty. But if you think I'd be foolish to go up against a Watcher you must be dreaming. If you want to stop a Watcher, you got to hit it in the eye." She replied, and Krillin glanced back at the Watcher, the writhing mass now, a large sword protruding from its now closed eye.

"Unhand him, demon, or it will be the last thing you ever do." A harshly spoken command came from a familiar voice in front of them. The 'demon' woman stopped short and glared at a now air borne Yashimoto, Krillin too stunned to speak at seeing his partner floating in the air.

"If you had a brain in your head, angel boy, you would see that I just rescued this human from the certain death and stopped the Watcher, which were two things you couldn't do. It might be hard for you to believe but I'm on your side in this fight. We have a mutual enemy in the Dark Lord and I would do anything to keep him from taking the pure girl." The woman replied, staring Yashimoto right in the eye and daring him to argue the point with her. Whether Yashimoto believed her or not was to be irrelevant, he needed as many allies as he could get at this moment, and Damia, the strongest Succubine demoness in the Lower Hell was as good as anyone.

"If you drain a drop of that human's," Yashimoto growled, gesturing at Krillin, "life force, I will personally see you punished." Looking down at the passenger she had clasped at her breast, she actually blushed and mentally chastised herself for showing such benevolence towards a human. Fearful of how her closeness would look, she threw the man at the threatening demon hunter and cleared her throat.

"Like I would want a runt like that." She replied, covering up her embarrassment. "Besides, I owed him a favour, consider it paid back." Damia said, her green eyes boring into Krillin's and the spark of a memory before he had woke up came back to him. As soon as the memory came to him though, it was pushed out along with all other thought as a horrific cacophony of sound filled the halls.

"Damn it, the Saiyajin Prince has been defeated." Damia whispered, her own eyes going wide in shock at the sound of the cry of triumph, a ear piercing song that signifies victory at the end of a great battle. From her vantage point and excellent eyesight, the demoness could see above the legions of demons that were lined up behind their lord. All of them were watching with glee, waiting for the rebel Prince to be killed and most likely sentenced to an eternity in the floor.

"We have to get out of here now." Damia said, a small waver in her voice betraying her fear. "Once the Demon Lord is finished with Vegeta, he will be after the pure one and us. If he gets the pure one, it will be the end of everything."

"What are you talking about, what is this pure one? What about Ms. Ingenu and Ms. Briefs? You can't leave them there, not with Ms. Ingenu like that. You're obviously powerful and good, can't you tell me anything? You have to help her." Krillin cried out to Yashimoto, his confusion bubbling over with the stress of all that he had seen.

"I can't tell you what or why of anything. You won't remember it anyway, once the temporal correction goes through. Ms. Ingenu's fate will be decided then. As for Ms. Briefs …" the demon hunter continued, looking down at the pair of human females only to cut off in mid-sentence. Everything happened in slow motion then as his worst fear played out before his eyes. He wanted to scream, to try and stop it but he was already too late.

***

Vegeta growled out in pain as he dropped to his knees, the last of his energy spent. In his cockiness, or maybe in his desperation, he thought he could defeat his former master. Now that he was once more restored to life and with the increase in strength that death would have brought, he thought himself on par with the Master of Hell. Certainly he would be no fawning servant, he was his own master and his enemy had no power over him. That was his first mistake, his enemy's ability and mastery over this realm was still absolute and formidable.

What followed after he had left the woman in the angel's protection was a battle such as he had not experienced in years. Everything was forgotten in the glory of the battle, Vegeta losing himself in combat as his blood sang with the prospect of fighting an opponent as strong as himself. Between the two of them, Vegeta knew that physically he was stronger, his years of fighting under Freeza and the Lord of Hell making him unbelievable powerful. Added to that Stalaunt's information about the Demon Lord and his own knowledge, the Saiyajin knew that his own strength and fighting ability was beyond that of his former Master. Unfortunately for the Saiyajin Prince, his enemy knew his every strength and weakness and his every move as the Demon Lord read his thoughts and tried to bend his will. The fight was not only against the Demon Lord but himself as well, his will against the Master's manipulations. Through instinct, speed and battle honed skill he managed at first to beat down his enemy and severely injure the Hell Lord. It soon became an empty victory as the damage was healed instantly. His frustration began to get the better of him and it offered enough of an opening for his enemy to strike. As soon as his mental barriers were down, the Master forced himself into Vegeta's mind. His senses working against him, his sense of direction, time and his mental abilities were all thrown into disarray to the point where he crashed into the ground, hit by one of his own ki attacks.

As fast as he could recover, the Master threw something else at him. Every time he landed a crushing punch or kick, he would feel the pain, or his energy would slowly be drained from his body. It wasn't long before the mental assault tired him out, and the physical one started. Drained enough that he was now weaker than his opponent, the Demon Lord began to attack, all of his blows, while not as strong as Freeza, were enough to wear him down a little more each time. For a long time he blocked and dodged out of the way, landing his own punishing hits when an opening came but it was becoming less frequent as the battle began to take its toil. Knowing that he had only one shot for temporally stopping his opponent, he put everything he had into a powerful Renzokou Kikou Ha, the balls of ki flooding the far end of the hall where they fought. Breathless and exhausted when he finished, he waited until the dust had settled, keeping a ki shield around him in case there was anything left of his opponent. He was unprepared when another burst of flame, this time ten metres high, engulfed him and he screamed out in pain as the fire burned his skin, even going so far as to burn away part of his soul. Caught in the flame, he was a sitting duck and the Master took advantage, punching him in the stomach and then in the face, the force of the blow sending him flying back into the melee of demons.

He tried to rise again to fight but there was nothing more in him, whatever energy had been left after his saturation ki strike was leeched from the fire blast.

"I must admit, Vegeta, I am impressed. I didn't think you could last so long, or do so much damage." The grey, winged demon said, his voice almost a purr as he took the last step towards victory, taunting his victim. Landing in front of the downed Saiyajin, Vegeta took mild satisfaction in the burns, lacerations, bruises, and blisters that his attack had caused. Within a moment the injuries were healed but at least he would go to his fate knowing that he drew blood.

"Foolish Saiyajin, I would have made you a general in my unholy army, you could have had any part of the universe if you had stayed loyal. Instead you had to step in the way of my plans, even to the point of having feelings for the means of my triumph. I hope your sacrifice was worth it, oh mighty Saiyajin Prince, she's be walking over you for all eternity. Take one last look at her, Vegeta, and know that it was your efforts that ultimately let me have her." Turning his head away from his boasting enemy, he looked out over the distance of the dark hall and took in the bowed head of weeping human woman. Her blue hair, now streaked with black, glistened in the radiance of her light. By her side, another human lay, this one in far worse shape, the woman trying to comfort her friend as the human approached the end and ordeals of the afterlife. Like a peeping tom, he watched the obviously heart-felt scene with great interest, taking one last look at the reason for his sacrifice. As if she were caught in a trance, she slowly raised her head and stared start at him, the tears in her eyes from the sight of death all around her making her eyes crystalline in appearance.

He wanted to scream at her to run, to get away and escape with that troublesome angel but it was too late for such warnings, not that she would heed them anyway. Stubborn woman, he growled to himself, her eyes a window to the thoughts and emotions whirling through her head and leaving him, or her felled friend, was not one of them. Already she was weeping for him, shaking her head and whispering those same words she had uttered that first night that stayed his hand. To think this was how all of this started, her goodness and simple innocence. Staring into her eyes, he knew he had to accept his fate, hoping against reason that Yashimoto could escape with her while the Demon Lord and his armies were distracted with him. Since the battle had begun, he had felt the vibrations in the floor every time blood was split. If he was correct, then his death could provide the turning point. Taking one last look at the pale face and huge blue eyes, he mouthed the only thing he could think of, the only advice he could give to her to ensure that his sacrifice was not in vain.

'Don't give up. Fight and live, woman.'

"Oh Vegeta, it's almost too painful to see you like this. Where is your pride, your Saiyajin honour that you are giving up your life for a woman? It's as bad as when you first came to my realm, everything stripped away from you by Freeza. All you had was that damnable pride and now, you've ruined your second life as you did your first. Here you are before me once more, a pathetic slave, no power, no title, no self-respect. I guess the only thing left is your life, and what better way to take it than the tried and true method Freeza devised. So good-night, sweet Prince." The Demon Lord chided him before the grey skinned creature burst out laughing, a small ball of energy forming at the tip of one upraised finger. All noises were dulled, all reality faded away as Vegeta's attention focussed entirely on the energy ball and his fate. He knew that everything had begun to slow and quiet, the armies of Hell turning its attention to his execution. This was the demon hunter's chance to get her out of this place, Vegeta only hoping that the angel had sense to take the opening given to him. It would be too risky to attempt telepathic communication; the Master would be listening.

Damn it, he growled to himself, he would not show fear in the face of death, he had come to the most honourable death known by his ancestors, death in battle, and in defence of his squad and mate. Staring up with all the pride of his royal Saiyajin blood, Vegeta's gaze moved from the energy attack to his attacker, boring into those soulless red eyes. So focussed was he on his fate, on the pain he knew would soon come, he only noted the movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of white and blue against the endless black of the hall. With a yell of triumph, the Master let the attack fly, the harsh voice mixing with the frantic beating of his heart, the shriek of the tiles and the crackling air around the ball of energy. It wasn't until the last moment, when he could almost feel the heat of the strike on his skin that he heard it, the pounding of footsteps and a single heartfelt voice screaming out one word.

"No!"

***

"Mona, why? Why did you do this?" Bulma wept, her words broken by frequent sobs. Cradling the dying woman in her arms, Bulma did everything she could to save her friend. Already most of the skirt of the black monstrosity they had put her in was ripped to shreds in a failing attempt to stay the never-ending flow of blood. With every drop of the precious liquid was spilled the floor beneath them would vibrate and scream, feeding off Mona's waning life force.

As futile as the efforts were, the blue haired beauty couldn't stop, hoping to somehow save the woman who had made the sacrifice of her life to protect Bulma's. Maybe this great power that was in her could save Mona's life, she hoped, but that hope soon dissolved. What was the use of it, she wailed to herself, it only caused pain. What she wouldn't give to have the events of this night erased, that she had never come to this place. It was because of her that Mona was near death, and because of this horrible power inside of her that her world, all life as she knew it would be plunged into darkness and suffering. The mirror, Kami that vile, mutilation of her former beau, it showed what would happen if her power was used by that grey, winged demon. For the prophesies required both powers to become one, his evil overwhelming and corrupting her good. Bulma's eyes flitted over the razor sharp edge of the sword that Mona still had in her hand. The glittering, celestial blade had injured even the 'great' demon himself. When the time came, Bulma remarked to herself as she reached for the sword, it would be him or her, she could only hope that the end would be quick.

With a brush of her finger against Mona's, Bulma's attention twisted from preparing for the inevitable to comforting her wakening friend. Blinking owlishly, Mona stared out at her, those green eyes glazed over with the pain. It was a moment before either woman moved, neither speaking, just staring at one another, Bulma full of sorrow, Mona caught in a daze. Of all the reactions Bulma was expecting, she was shocked to see a warm smile spread across Mona's face.

"Such wondrous light." The other woman whispered, her words dying in a soft moan as she tried to raise her limp hand and touch Bulma's face.

"Please, just stay still. I'll try to get help. Oh Mona, why did you do this?" Bulma said, trying to placate her friend. She must be delirious with the pain, or close to death; the only beings that had been able to see this light or energy had been those of the hereafter.

"I had to do it, I couldn't let the light succumb to the darkness. You are too strong, too important, I'm just so honoured that I could be your friend and your protector, Bulma." After the ocean of tears she had already shed in her life, she couldn't believe there were anymore left but at the Mona's slow, broken declaration her eyes filled with moisture again.

"How could you say that, if it weren't for me you would be alive, trying to survive the hangover from last night's partying. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, please don't die, I don't want any of you to die." Mona's smile widened as her breaths grew shallower and eyelids fought to stay open.

"Had to … couldn’t … let you die. Your dream guy would … have killed me." Even at the end, she was still fighting and making bad jokes, Bulma thought, shaking her head at the insanity of her friend. Every breath that Mona took was harder to draw in, her life was failing, falling out from between Bulma’s fingers and dripping onto the floor. Her words thought struck Bulma like a blow; dream guy, could Mona mean Vegeta? Questions of how Mona could know of him, know of his promise to protect her assaulted her, but Mona smiled again, as if she could read Bulma’s mind.

"It’s … be-becoming so … clear. You … you saved … his … soul, I … I see your … light … in him. Just as … he is tr—trying to … save you from … the darkness, you mus---ust save … him. Fight, Bulma … for him, don---don’t let him fall … or let yourself or … my death … will be in vain." Bulma opened her mouth to contradict, to reassuring Mona, and herself, that her friend was not going to die. The red-haired woman had other ideas, shaking her head against whatever reply Bulma would have, the action causing her to cough violently.

"Don—don’t mourn for … me, remem … ber me, live … in peace and keep … him safe." Even in the horror of the moment, there was a child-like innocence about her, her words like that of a child, knowing all the secrets of life, hope and love, seeing and saying the truth as only the very young and truly wise could. And with death’s hands upon her, she slipped away from Bulma’s desperate grasp, her eyes closing like a child who had fought off the coming of sleep for too long.

The moment of reflection and solace was short-lived, the outside world that she had dismissed to help Mona could be held at bay no longer. Most of the sounds of battle had died, the demons had stopped moving and attacking, all of their attention now set on their Master and her protector. She knew without looking that the fight was over as well. He had lost and the mad hordes were waiting for his execution. Her cheeks burned with the heat of his gaze on her and she knew he was looking at her, his heart was full of desperation and regret. He had fallen, she realised, not into darkness as Mona had warned, but in battle with the tyrant. He had fought for her, so that she may live and now he was prepared to lose his life in that cause. Raising her eyes to meet his, she was caught in his black, endless gaze, the strength of him as well as his desperation for failing her shining out from his eyes. How she wanted to go and comfort him, heal the pain of that battle and the scars, both inside and out, of his former existence. In the wash of her emotions she began to babble, the words tumbling out of her mouth as her memories and Mona's last words whirled through her head.

For a moment he seemed lost, unsure of himself as a man of attack is at a moment of defeat and contemplation. And he was a man of attack, the build of his body, the scars of battle, his stealth, strength and grace of movement all spoke of a warrior. From what she could gather he was also one of great pride and, more terrifyingly, a former soldier of hell, though how he regained his life Bulma couldn't imagine, or wouldn't. He was giving it up for her, she realised, seeing the close change in his eyes from anger and confusion to acceptance. After all of his sufferings he was willing to condemn himself for eternity to protect her. There were no words that could come to her, no thank-you or praise that she could give that would express the measure of her gratitude and love for this Vegeta, but no matter how hard she wished, she could not delay the demon's revenge. So caught up in that ebony stare, she was still stunned by it when he turned away from her and faced his fate, his last words to her echoing in her mind.

'Don't give up.'

'You must save him from the darkness; don't let him fall; keep him safe.' No, she couldn't let him die. It would not end this way. Grabbing the sword from Mona's hand, Bulma steadied her nerve and prepared herself for battle against the grey demon. She had seen it used by detective Yashimoto to know that it could do some damage. If she could get to Vegeta then she could protect him from that monster, between the two of them they might be able to defeat the demon.

Luck was partly on her side as she crept up along the shadowed walls; all eyes were firmly fixed on the two warriors, the demon hordes watching their master with awe and reverence. By sheer force of will, Bulma looked up at the terrifying leader, his face twisted in malevolent glee that caused her to shudder. She had seen that look before in a dream, she had seen this moment before, the demon then had been white and purple, but his soul was no less corrupt and his purpose no less evil. Though she did not have a warrior sense, she knew what would happen next, the air already charged with the coming attack. No, the dream's events playing once more in her head, she couldn't let him die, give him up to this burning pit. A part of her was in him, the wash of that strange, wondrous power inside of her was in him, she could sense it. It had freed his soul, now she had to save it. It was too late now, only one thing could save him, what couldn't save him the first time.

Throwing caution to the wind, she ran, dropping the sword to the floor; it would be of no use to her now. Every step that she took forward the world outside fell away. One after another her feet pounded against the hard floor, her lungs burned from the thick, poisonous air. Her muscles, strained from the earlier battle groaned at the sudden activity but her will was strong as her heart thumped in her chest.

Ahead she watches as a flash of light form above the grey demon's talon, the prospect of murder and pain filling the creature's red eyes with malice. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Bulma ran, hoping she would make it in time. She was only a few metres away when the entire hall rang with a deep, bone-chilling laugh and the energy ball took flight, rushing towards the stalwart Vegeta.

She could not lose -- her feet pounding hard against the tiles. It would not end this way -- her muscles scream but force her forward. He would not die--her heart beats faster and faster. He won't, no-no-no-NO-NO…

"NO!" She screamed, her body working on adrenaline, instinct and pure emotion. It was a race between her and the energy ball for Vegeta. Bulma's will so set on her task she could feel herself glow with energy, her life force growing as she raced forward. The world around her slowed as she watched the attack coming towards him, the distance between her and her beloved growing shorter and shorter. With one mighty leap, she was in the air, flying as she had seen Yashimoto and Vegeta do before. Only a few feet away from striking Vegeta, Bulma could feel the heat on her skin as the ball barrelled towards her. She was full of fear but she faced her death like a warrior. She would die with the greatest honour, somewhere in the back of her head she only hoped it wouldn't hurt.

Oh Kami, it did.

***

What followed had never been known in the history of hell, even in all the eons that Staluant had witness had such an event occurred, utter silence. Every eye watched in amazement as the pure being jumped in front of the attack, the white light of her power as bright as heavens as she sacrificed her life for the Saiyajin Prince. As they all watched, demon, warlock, orc, succubine, troll, human, wight, watcher, angel, and Saiyajin alike, they watched as the small ball struck and the pure being fell, every creature moved by the sight. None could speak to break the solemn silence of Bulma's deed, the tiles themselves were placid in respect. In the relativity of time, the second of repose felt like an eternity but it did not last as Bulma hit the floor and pandemonium broke.

Above the hall, the two male watchers were dumbstruck, overcome with shock and grief to say a word. The succubus with them did not suffer the same.

"Come on, you idiots, we have to get out of here now before it's too late." Damia yelled, her eyes glued to the Saiyajin Prince and the fallen blue haired woman in his arms.

"But, but, what about Ms. Briefs, oh Kami, what just happened, why did she do that?" Krillin asked when he broke through his stupor, the events of this day too much for his human understanding.

"I don't know why she did it, though from the looks of those two I can make an educated guess. It doesn't matter why, it's that she did, the pure one is dying and if we don't get out of here we'll be next. What is the matter with you, angel boy, we have to go now!" Yashimoto was in his own world though, looking sorrowfully at the young pure being and the demon Prince he was sent to kill.

"How could I so fail in my duty, how could I so misjudge? I could not stop the Demon Lord. I could not save her." He whispered under his breath, not yet hearing Damia's warning. It took a minute and a couple pokes from Krillin before he could snap out of his state.

"Thanks for joining up in the real world, angel boy. Now if you're finished we have to get out of here."

"But what about Ms. Briefs, and Ms. Ingenu? We can't leave them here. If it's that grey demon down there that we have to fight I'm willing to do it if there is something either of you can do to bring them back." Krillin asked again.

"No, and as much as it pains me to admit it, our succubine companion is right, we have to get out of here. Bulma's sacrifice had delivered a crippling blow to the Demon Lord's plans, but he is very powerful, and could finish off what he started with us. Do not worry about the pure one and Ms. Ingenu, their fates' are with heaven and beyond my power." Yashimoto reassured his partner as the two turned to leave, their path halted by a snort of contempt from the golden skinned demon.

"Don't you know anything about the workings of hell, demon hunter? The Master is in as much danger as we are, probably more so, his day of judgement has arrived." Damia pronounced, looking down with indifference at her former Master and the couple he tore apart until the first shakes began. Without a word to her unlikely accomplices, she turned and flew out of the hall at top speed, the duo following close behind as the hellish palace started to fall apart.

"What's going on?" Yashimoto screamed over the blare of his and Damia's energy as well as the rumbling of destruction around them.

"This palace, the floors, the walls, every part of it was built on suffering, constructed from souls who spend all of eternity in writhing agony in this place. They, like nearly every creature in Lower Hell, hate the Master. They feed off the life force of anything that they can get their hands on, drinking the blood of demons and innocents alike all in the hopes of breaking the bonds of their oppression. Well they just got the meal of their lives with the life energy of the pure one and it won’t be long before they escape and tear the Master to bits, us too if we don’t hurry up." Already the tiles were cracking apart and a strange black mist rose from the carnage, swirling and rumbling up to fill the hall. With a mighty shriek, the mist spread, devouring anything in its path as it rushed towards the great grey monster that was responsible for its torment. The trio watched the spectacle with morbid fascination until the ceiling itself began to fall in on them. Unable to grab up their fallen comrades or warn the Saiyajin Prince they fled with all of Hell crashing down around them.

***

If only, he cried, if only he had got to her faster, if only, if only, if only. He watched her in a daze as she streaked past him and took the death blow meant for him. He, like everyone else, had been shocked and moved, never had she seemed so beautiful to him.

As soon as she fell he was at her side, lifting her broken body against his own, overcome with grief. The wound was deep, the energy ball burning its way from her right shoulder to the left side of her back, puncturing her lungs, ripping through blood vessels and destroying her spine. By now his hand was dyed red with her blood, the fluid dripping out on to the floor. With every drop the tiles beneath them shook violently, spidery cracks were already forming. The souls within the tiles were leaching her life force from her, her beautiful pure white energy was the fuelling their escape. His last gamble had paid off, but at a higher price than he could measure.

"Vegeta, don’t be sad." She rasped out and he stared down into her half lidded eyes, the siren song of death already pulling her away from him. "I … couldn’t let you die again, had to … fight for you, like you did for me."

"Damn you, woman; what made you think you could jump in front of an attack like that? You should have run, I promised to protect you. You were never to know this." Vegeta growled, tightening his grip on her failing body as he let all the pain and impotence wash over him. It took all of his self control not to shake her before his angry drained away and he buried his head against her uninjured shoulder.

"Please do—n’t cry," Bulma whispered as she stroked his neck and ran her fingertips through his hair. With a trembling hand, Vegeta touched his finger to his cheek, shocked at the moisture rolling down his face.

"I’m sorry we couldn’t go back to the woods, I wanted to stay there with you, my Prince, my mannequin." A small smile spread across her lips at the memory of how this had all begun, her daydreams in the leather department about this man. Never in her wildest fantasies had she imagined this, or him.

"I had … to do it, ha-d to keep … you safe, like… like you have fo--or me." All around them, the frantic cries of fleeing demons echoed through the crumbling halls. From the fissures in the floor, a writhing black mass rose up, the culmination of all the suffering that the Demon Lord had caused. With one mighty wail, it began to rush out and swallow up anything in its path, devouring everything it touched as it pursued the cause of its pain.

"You have no idea what you've done, woman. We can't stay here. Once the Master has been devouring it will not stop but draw us both into torment with them." Even as the words left the Saiyajin's mouth he knew it was too late, she was only a hair breath away from death. He could feel her heart slowing in her chest and her breathing growing more laboured, the aura of light around her was becoming dim. To move her was to hasten her death, but if he did not leave soon, they would both be victims of the mist and while he could accept the eternity of torture, he could not subject her to the same. Never had the Saiyajin Prince felt so uncertain, so lost.

"Please … you ha-vf to leh-t me go. Go, run, live and remember me." Nearly all her energy was spent, the strength it took to force air into her fluid filled lungs and keep her heavy eye lids open was draining her beyond reason. The end was coming. The dream of life cast off for the sleep of death. Such poetic fate, she realised, the moment she found herself and her true happiness was at her demise. It's too soon; she wanted to wail, too soon for her time to be over, for her life to end, just as she was finding it. She had found a man that she could give herself to, her life, love, everything and now she was being taken away; it was all too soon.

They had only a few precious moments left, no time to speak, to proclaim, promise or reassure. With no time for words, Vegeta took the only course of action he could and lightly kissed her still, warm lips with all the emotion that words could not express.

Like a life-line, it drew Bulma to him, as she used the last of her strength to kiss him back, her eyes closing for the last time as he pulled away. Slipping away into the realm of eternal sleep, the world faded to black. A tear rolled down her cheek at the prospect of facing eternity alone with her lips still burned from his and his deep, resonant voice echoing in her ears with a single word as she fell into darkness.

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

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

* * * * *