Cold Comfort

Act 14 Sabotage

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z. The standard disclaimer as always! Thanks to those who reviewed. I hope that I can help answer what happened to Shandi in the next chappie or two.

***

 

Mr. Coconut cradled his cell phone between his shoulder and left ear. Both hands were occupied with flipping through his appointment calendar. He licked his lips, flicking his left wrist up to check his wristwatch. To his reckoning, the minute hand had paced the course of a half-hour. Despite the voice chattering in his ear, he remembered his number one candidate was already waiting.

 

“I'm sorry I have to get back to you with an opening,” Mr. Coconut told his client on the other end. “I promise I'll call you back!”

 

He exhaled at the response, “Oh no, don't worry. I know you're busy. Get to your client. Bye!”

 

With relief, he clicked the red `end call button'. He seized his pile of clean towels, and rushed off towards the neglected client. Hopefully she would understand his absence. What he didn't expect was to run headlong into a hard obstacle about chest height. The next second a white gloved hand that shoved him back into the far wall.

 

“Who… what are you?” gasped Mr. Coconut. From the floor, he glanced up at the muscular figure carrying his client in his arms.

 

“Out of my way, servant!” Vegeta snapped, effortlessly cradling Bulma under the arms and knees. Her face was flushed pink, her damp hair tied up in a towel turban. Precariously she squeezed her legs shut, holding her robe closed with one hand in her lap. The other hand crooked snugly around the thick neck of the fierce stranger.

 

“Vegeta, don't you DARE incinerate him! He's my masseuse!” Bulma snapped at the man carrying her. Dark eyebrows furrowed over bottomless dark coals giving Mr. Coconut a feral predatory glare. Through his head flickered the faces of his rich and powerful clientele, and he realized that the expression matched those of powerful debutantes. He didn't need a PHD to tell this man was some sort of royalty despite the strange armor and tight bodysuit. Just the gold shiny tips on the white boots ten feet away along with the ramrod posture betrayed Vegeta's Royal status.

 

“Um… sir… or should I say… your Highness?” Mr. Coconut stammered. He rolled over, kneeling with both hands spread and his gaze on the toes of Vegeta's boots. Amusement replaced Vegeta's frown, pleased and flattered to see a human showing proper deference and not daring to look him in the eyes as an equal.

 

“Humph well now, you seem to have the appropriate sense to recognize a Prince. I can see why you favor this slave over the others, Bulma,” Vegeta laughed. “Get up, slave. Your services are not necessary. I'm seeing the Lady home.”

 

“Yes… yes your Highness. My apologies,” Mr. Coconut nodded.

 

“Vegeta, you're terrifying him! Knock it off with the Royal Attitude!” Bulma whispered against his ear.

 

“Let me savor this moment, Bulma. Since they are rare. It pleases me to see that some members of this pitiful species have some spark of intelligence. You there, where are Bulma's things?”

 

“In... in the closet,” Mr. Coconut said. “Ms. Briefs I'm terribly sorry…”

 

“It's okay,” Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes. “Just get my stuff and we'll call it even.”

 

Vegeta set Bulma down carefully on her feet, beaming a glare towards Mr. Coconut. Reaching down he touched his toe to Mr. Coconut's shoulder lightly, nudging it. “You may get up now. Fetch her things and go about your business.”

 

Bulma was first scared Vegeta would kick the man, but when she saw the strange ritual, it clicked. Vegeta was acknowledging Mr. Coconut's deference like a ruler does to a slave who is obedient. Perhaps it was a Saiyan ritual. Arms folded across his chest, Vegeta turned his head slightly, nodding in affirmation as the masseuse scuttled off to find Bulma's things.

 

Bulma tapped her foot, shaking her head. Vegeta snorted, “WHAT?”

 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” she said, blinking in shock. “I'm surprised you didn't have him lick your boots!”

 

“That's an earth custom. I don't want his saliva messing up my armor,” Vegeta shook his head, rolling his eyes. As if she was a backward child who needed the world explained to her by a superior being.

 

“So as long as people bow and scrape you won't kill them? That's a nice thing to know,” Bulma mumbled. Mr. Coconut rushed back in; carrying Bulma's clothes neatly folded in a bundle with her purse. She accepted them, and Vegeta glared at the man. Quickly he dropped to a kneeling position, averting his gaze.

 

“Next massage is on the house, Ms. Briefs. I'm terribly sorry,” he stammered.

 

“You are dismissed,” Vegeta said. Extending his hand, he motioned for Bulma to walk towards him.

 

“Excuse me, I need to pay him!”

 

“Why? He didn't massage you,” Vegeta snorted. “Let's be off!”

 

“I'm not leaving my car here to get another charge on my ticket!” Bulma glared at him.

 

“You drove yourself? Honestly, Bulma you're the richest woman on this pathetic planet and you don't have someone to drive you?” Vegeta snorted. “Let's take our leave from here!”

 

Grasping Bulma's hand with his gloved one, Vegeta led her towards one of the changing areas. Bulma shrugged an apology to Mr. Coconut, not wanting to cause a scene. She knew Vegeta's volatile disposition and the last thing she wanted was for someone else to end up a pile of ashes. For Vegeta to incinerate her enemies was one thing, but her friends was another matter.

 

Another window on Vegeta's thought process had been opened not by any bond, but by his actions. His fingers enclosed around hers with enough firmness to convey his desires bubbling just beneath the surface. Not to mention how he half dragged her along behind him. Bulma snorted under her breath about impatient Princes and annoying space monkeys, prompting Vegeta to stop. She crashed into his hard muscled back so her pelvis pressed to his marvelously sculpted backside.

 

“Ooof!” she grunted, cursing the fact Vegeta was little softer then a brick wall.

 

“Clumsy female,” he snickered. Seeing the gleam in his dark eyes, she couldn't help but roll her own. Over one shoulder he glimpsed at her out of the corner of his imperial gaze accompanied by a regal devilish smirk. Instantly her annoyance evaporated, replaced by a tingling in her lower regions.

 

“I'll show you clumsy, Prince,” she whispered. “Now make up your mind. Either you face me bitching about a huge parking ticket or you let me drive us BOTH home the old fashioned way.”

 

“Suit yourself. These minor slaves'd rather not interrupt me. Especially since you and I have unfinished business, Bulma,” he whispered back. Quickly he turned in her arms so she was momentarily pressed between his hard muscled chest and the wall. Bulma's heart pounded against her ribcage, thudding solidly against the hard cold armor that was exemplative of his merciless exterior. Hot breath pulsed against her earlobe, followed by a sharp pain. Bulma gritted her teeth at the sensation of his tongue lightly licking away the small dribble of blood Vegeta lapped up.

 

“I don't even want to know,” she whispered.

 

“Come on, lazybones,” he laughed. “Don't keep me waiting! Or do I need to show you just what happens when you keep the Prince of Saiyans waiting, Bulma?”

 

“Don't you DARE blow this building up or so help me I'll blow up your GT!” Bulma snapped, rushing after Vegeta. He darted off playfully down the hall, followed by Bulma in her robe. She carried her bundle of clothes under one arm, and then caught up with him. Minutes later, she entered the ladies rest room, and changed into her usual clothes while Vegeta waited outside.

 

When she emerged, she saw him leaning with his back against the wall. His head was inclined slightly so his chin rested against the white hard surface of his armor. She couldn't help but wander her gaze over the gleaming white breastplate covering sculpted muscle. Dark eyes snapped open, and fixed her with the gaze of a predator. Bulma's heart momentarily froze with fear, and then the fear passed away when she remembered what had transpired.

 

“Don't fool yourself Bulma,” he whispered lightly into her ear. “I know what you're thinking. However, this isn't something you can use against me to bend me to your will. I'm not a beast to be tamed.”

 

“What makes you think I'd stoop to that level? How lame can you get, Vegeta?” she snorted, stamping her foot. “As if I NEED a male at my beck and call. Pulleez! Now are you coming or not? I haven't got all day, Prince!”

 

Vegeta's mouth opened a bit, and Bulma strode regally before him, her nose slightly in the air. Deliberately she was mocking his own regal bearing, and Vegeta shook his head with a snorted gasp. “Humph. I suppose you do have SOME sense for an earth woman,” he mumbled.

 

“Get real. I mean I don't need an alien PRINCE wrapped around my finger when I have enough trouble monitoring my employees. I'm not THAT stupid. I don't play games like that, Vegeta. And you know better,” she said.

 

In silence, the two of them walked down the halls towards the elevator. Impatiently Vegeta tapped a white booted foot while waiting for the floor. Bulma released a breath when the ding broke the tense silence, and she saw his muscles glide into a slight relaxed form. All the while, they rode the car; it seemed Vegeta was growing more and more antsy. “What a pointless waste of time,” he mumbled.

 

“Well you don't HAVE to ride back with me. I LIKE driving. And besides you don't want to be seen carrying a weak helpless female do you?” She asked sarcastically. “I mean heaven FORBID the mighty Prince be seen with the Woman, right?”

 

“Hah,” he laughed. “You're just going along with me because you can't WAIT any more than me.”

 

“That's one of the few reasons I'm keeping you around, Vegeta,” she shot back. Her footsteps echoed on the cement floor of the parking deck. Vegeta's gold-toed boots lightly tapped after hers, his steps surprisingly graceful for one who was used to higher gravity. OF the three Saiyans, she had seen footage of; including Raditz and Nappa, Vegeta seemed perfectly at ease in any gravity. As she approached her car, she crossed around to the driver's side, while Vegeta waited at the passenger side. She unlocked the door with the keyless remote, and opened the door. To her surprise, Vegeta still stood expectantly by the passenger side with folded arms.

 

“It's unlocked, you dork. Are you getting in or not?” she said, ducking her head around the side of the car.

 

“I suppose you're not going to bother to open the door,” he mumbled.

 

“Either get your butt in the car or fly home. Your choice,” Bulma said.

 

“Fine,” he grumbled, yanking the door open and climbing into the vehicle to sit next to her. She winced as he slammed the door dramatically behind him.

 

“And they say WOMEN are temperamental,” Bulma commented before shoving the key into the ignition and turning on the engine. Vegeta sat perched on the front of the seat, not bothering to click his belt in place, so Bulma leaned over to grab the metal tab. Her hand pressed against the top of his left thigh in the process, bringing her breast pressing to the top of his chest. Vegeta decided at that moment there were some rewards to letting the Woman show him earth etiquette. Soon his belt was clicked shut and Bulma had settled into her seat again. Instead of looking at her, he peered straight ahead while she maneuvered the car out of the long winding parking garage.

 

“You're the only person who doesn't bitch about my driving,” Bulma commented after they pulled onto the main street. Light flickered past the spires of Metro west as the sun played peek-a-boo behind tall buildings to beam directly into their eyes again. At the times the beams shined right into the car from Vegeta's side, she saw his dark spiky crest of hair backlit. Reddish highlights and deep browns were visible where she would have expected black and dark bluish black like Goku's hair in direct sun. Statue still Vegeta sat, not bothering to answer Bulma's statement. She felt uncomfortable in the silence, which would have been filled with the chatter of baseball or women if it were Yamcha in the front seat.

 

Yamcha had loved the cherry red speeder she had given him for his 21st birthday. Somehow, she figured Vegeta could care less if she gave him a similar token of her affection since he flew everywhere. When he had announced he was taking a driving test she had almost hit the floor with shock. The main reason he had done it was to show Goku his superiority, because he had decided to get a license after seeing the newscast on ZTV. The very broadcast showing Piccolo and Goku rescuing a school bus the day of their own flubbed driver's test.

 

Down Memory lane Bulma traveled, chuckling at the mental image of Goku and Piccolo having failed and Chichi's response. Gohan the last time he'd visited had told her the whole story as related to him from Goku's. Chichi had been livid, and there had been hell to pay. At least Piccolo had been assigned a young red headed driving instructor instead of Goku, who had an old man. If Chichi had seen that woman flirting with Goku, the reprisal would have been worse. Gohan's face had beamed with amusement when he described Piccolo's huge blush at the female flirting with him that day.

 

“It's a miracle. You keeping your mouth shut for more than a half hour,” Vegeta teased, interrupting Bulma's musings.

 

“Huh, o what? Excuse me?” Bulma snorted. “I was just thinking!”

 

“Perhaps it's something you should do more often instead of that incessant babbling. Although now that I've figured out other ways to keep you silent,” Vegeta snickered.

 

“No I mean I was just thinking, Piccolo's driving instructor. Her name was Ginger,” said Bulma.

 

“What do I care about the fool Namekian's habits?” Vegeta snorted, glancing quickly away from her with disdain.

 

“No Vegeta, your remember that girl you almost choked? Her name was also Ginger… it's just a funny coincidence. Cause Gohan told me that Piccolo described his driving instructor that day… the day where Goku and Piccolo first…”

 

“I remember that day well. It was most amusing, you must admit. Kakkarot and the Namek making utter fools of themselves. And they still haven't gotten their operating permits,” Vegeta laughed wickedly.

 

“Vegeta, I'm serious!” Bulma snapped, poking him in the ribs. Her finger touched the hard surface of his armor, but the nudging caught his attention.

 

“What is it? More idiotic notions?” he asked.

 

“Piccolo said his driving instructor was a redhead named Ginger. And I just realized she and our Ginger might be the same person! I just remembered Yamcha telling me that she worked as someone in Driver's Ed!” Bulma interrupted. Her blue eyes grew wide. Suddenly the car banked sharply to the left as Vegeta saw they were in the opposite lane. Bulma shrieked, tugging the wheel around to weave around the oncoming cars. Vegeta snarled with frustration as the car zigzagged then moved into the proper lane. Cars honked in a symphony, almost deafening him.

 

“Keep your eye on the road idiot!” Vegeta yelled, grabbing the wheel. Bulma's heart pounded in her chest as she overcompensated. Unfortunately as she turned the wheel one way, something snapped. Her heart dropped to her toes when she realized she had no control over the steering at that moment.

 

Suddenly the car out of her control veered into the opposite lane once more, freezing in fear. Barreling down towards them was a large hovering semi. Horns blared. A second later, Vegeta tugged the wheel to the left, pulling the car back into the proper lane again. However, something crashed from behind, knocking them over another lane, where another sharp jarring caused the car to whirl around. The entire world blurred, sunlight and road view spinning faster and faster. Bulma's reflexes blurred into slow motion, and she could not get her hands to do what her brain wanted.

 

Fortunately, Vegeta ripped open his seat belt, and grabbed her body once he saw the spinning motion of their vehicle about to collide with the wall. In that split second he had torn her seatbelt open as well, and wrapped his own body around Bulma. Hot white blinding light surged round both of them, and Bulma heard a splintering crash. Along with the sound of her screaming until car horns blurred and the world suddenly came to a merciless halt.

 

“Woman, what the HELL were you trying to do?” Vegeta yelled. Bulma blinked up, shivering in fear as she looked up into a scowling face. Around them the interior of the car had compressed to the point where she and Vegeta were somewhere in the midst of twisted metal. The only thing keeping them from being merged and crushed to pulp was the shimmering undulation of energy covering them just around to skin depth. Horns honked and other glass shattered around them with the sound of cries.

 

“What… what happened…?” she stammered.

 

“You almost got us killed moron,” Vegeta growled, maintaining the skintight force field around them that had saved them both. Blinking over his shoulder Bulma saw that glass was shattered pressed against a twisted metal railing. Other flashing lights and twisted hunks of metal pressed on either side, one of them a huge tractor-trailer while another was the car just behind her. Suddenly Bulma felt as if she were floating outside her body while still being inside it. Her temperature dropped so she shivered in Vegeta's strong arms. Growling, Vegeta increased the energy of his field. He aimed his two fingers forwards, hissing through clenched teeth.

 

“HYYYAhhhh!” Vegeta rasped. A pencil thin beam erupted from the tips of his middle and pointer finger held together. It pierced the maze of twisted ruined car before them, cutting it like cheesecake. Bulma watched metal melting into a hole large enough so Vegeta could drag her free of the wreckage. She hugged him tightly, twisting in his arms so she could bury her face in his shoulder. A floating sensation wrapped around her, and then she heard the sound of voices chattering and sirens blaring. Red and blue blinking lights filled her vision as she opened her eyes.

 

Wind whipped her skirt around her knees. Under her back and knees, Vegeta's strong arms held her to his chest. His booted feet touched down on the pavement, and he strode forwards through the twisted mountain of metal compressing Bulma's red car. She shivered and sniffled, lifting her head to peer over his shoulder at the rescue vehicles pulling up around the five-car pileup. Officers rushed back and forth, one of them blocking Vegeta's progress.

 

“You, hey YOU! Stop right there!”

 

“Get out of my way, fool!” Vegeta growled.

 

“Vegeta, no, don't do anything!” she shouted in his ear. Turning in his arms, she blinked at the uniformed police officer regarding her in mutual shock.

 

“How did you get out of there… what sort of… you were in the middle of that wreckage… how…?” he stammered.

 

“Someone caused this woman to lose control of her car,” said Vegeta. “Now get out of my way!”

 

“What are you talking about sir, you mean she caused the accident?” the police officer snapped, dodging before Vegeta as he stepped forwards.

 

“It wasn't my fault!” Bulma blurted out. “I was trying to steer but then I couldn't steer anymore because I heard something snap!”

 

“Must we waste our time on this nonsense, Bulma?” Vegeta growled into her ear. It was near his lips because of the proximity of his head to hers.

 

“I need a statement. And you need an ambulance, Miss. You can't just leave the scene of an accident!” said the police officer.

 

“This is ridiculous!” Vegeta snarled, gritting his teeth.

 

“Please Vegeta; I don't want to get in trouble. Can you just please listen to him? Do you want a whole lot of people poking into your private business?” Bulma stammered. Her teeth chattered with the drop in body temperature. Sensing the loss of the woman's body heat, Vegeta flared a minute bit of invisible ki, raising his own body heat to convert into her. He gritted sharp white teeth, debating whether to kill whoever got in their way and take the woman so he could have his way with her, or submit to this fool waste of time. Finally, he decided to play the stupid game because he hated the idea of not being able to have sex with her again, or be barred by nosy Z fighters wondering why he had blasted the police of Metro West.

 

“Fine. However, the woman stays with me got it? Make it FAST!” Vegeta snarled.

 

“How did you get out of there…?”

 

“He's like the guys who saved the bus a while ago,” Bulma said quickly before he could answer. “You know…”

 

“Hmm, you mean like those so called guys who fought those aliens years ago?” asked the police officer.

 

“Whatever, just get on with your questions!” Vegeta glared at him. He hated playing by human rules.