Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z, Akira Toriyama does and created it. My fan character Tomic, and any others not part of the series belong to me. This story means no harm to the anime or manga

Second Chances for Raditz and Goku 8b

By Trynia Merin

Beta'd by Sarah Slutz 1/30/2008

Far away from where the Z warriors trained with their new 'ally', Bulma was in danger. Piccolo had captured her and the alien female, and was headed toward his own hideout. Like a leader born, Piccolo motioned them in the vicinity of the ruins of the red ribbon fortress. He heard as Bulma’s screams drowned out and moved far away.

"Milord, you escaped as you said," Captain Scarlet, the one who had fought Krillin commented.

"Yeah. Now get the hell out of my way. I'll join you at the fortress," Piccolo commanded. "I'll take the alien myself."

"As you command," bowed Captain Scarlet. He waved to the other mercenaries, all of whom were wearing green and purple colors. The long white cape and turban he wore resembled Piccolo's, even his choice of shoes. Most of the other soldiers were animals of some sort, or green skinned creatures similar to the alien that had her captive, with scaly skin.

"Move out!" the Namekian rasped. He had picked up Tomic, carefully under the knees and back, and then rocketed away with his mercenaries close behind him. Later he took her to a special room prepared for his arrival.

"Wake up, woman," he ordered. Roughly clawed green hands shook her. She blinked up at Piccolo again, taking in her surroundings. Underneath her a luxurious silk bedspread covered a tall four poster mahogany hand-carved bed. Heavy brocaded curtains were tied back with braided gold cords. Soft pillows propped up her shoulders and back. Piccolo himself, stood before her cage his white cape draped partially around his body. His turban was still bound high on his head. From beneath those brows, his intense eyes burned into hers.

“Now do you remember? I know you were just pretending to be knocked out. You were so drained that you couldn’t move,” Piccolo rumbled, adjusting himself as he leaned forward.

"I didn't want them to kill the girl," she replied hoarsely.

"Since when did you care?" Piccolo asked.

"She's the heir to the richest fortune on this planet. Kill her and you loose a bargaining chip," Tomic grunted.

"You're one lucky monkey. If I didn't need your help to keep those Red Ribbon clowns off my tail…" Piccolo grumbled, “I would have left you there.”

A green finger tipped with a luminescent claw pointed to a bandaged hole on her shoulder. To her shock, she noticed her armor had been removed. Instead, a soft silk gown covered her body. Just who had undressed her, she wondered. Still the hole stung badly. “That must have hurt me worse than I thought.”

“Their tin cans did that to you. If you were human the shock might have killed you,” Piccolo said.

"Where are we?" she inquired.

"In one of my father's old bases. One that survived his demise," Piccolo stated.

"You want to rule this world you said?" she snorted. "Just like he did?"

"Yeah, and I need your help. You're pretty damn powerful. You and I could take over this planet easily. That's why I freed you. You promised to help me if we got out. So we've escaped."

Something pricked her neck when she turned her head. Anxiously, she raised her hand to finger the hated band of metal clamped there. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded, shoving Piccolo’s hand away.

"I wouldn't move if I were you. I didn't think you'd willingly cooperate when you first woke up, so I left the ki dampener on you. Now hold still!" Piccolo warned, tapping a device on his red sash.

"You imprisoned me just as they did you? I see. You think like a Saiyan?" she growled. The sparking increased on the collar followed by a wave of weakness paralyzing her. She collapsed back on the soft cushions. Piccolo moved both of his hands again to hover just inches over her wound.

"Shut up and LISTEN to me! There's a VERY good reason I did this! You fool; those humans would have placed you in a zoo. Associating with me has its consequences. And you did promise to help me, didn't you? I saved you. Be glad that you're not with the humans. They would destroy you because you are a 'monster' in their eyes," Piccolo snapped at her. “Now LIE still and let me do this so you’re of use to me!”

Still outraged, Tomic gnashed her teeth. “Do you mean to starve me?” she asked. Her stomach rumbled.

Piccolo turned up a slow grin. He clapped his hands sharply, and bellowed, "Bring some food for our guest. Get out of here and make it snappy!"

"Yes sire!" mumbled his servants, bustling off. Within minutes they returned bringing plates loaded with various fruits and vegetables. Piccolo commanded them to set the trays on a table that was scooted over to the side of the bed. Her mouth watered at the sight of fresh sliced melons and large bunches of grapes. Roast venison and duck steamed hot in silver dishes, making her mouth water.

“You may partake,” Piccolo said. “You’re of no use to me dead. I’ve suppressed your ki enough to stop you from attacking me, but not enough to deprive your body of what it needs to eat, sleep and move.”

“All right,” she agreed roughly, finding she had the strength to sit up. It was easiest to recline on one arm and reach over to feed herself with her other hand. Tomic eagerly started to devour the feast, stunning Piccolo with her ravenous appetite.

“Now Saiyan, you saw what those androids could do. If you and I work together we'll crush them, and then I can take over this miserable planet," Piccolo explained as patiently as he could.

"You think you can do it?" she asked.

"Yeah, but only if you help me. Already I've got a band of the best mercenaries who were associates of my father. They're waiting for my command. With your help, I'll defeat them. After I settle my score with Son Goku," continued the Namekian.

"Then take this suppression device off!" she snorted, spitting cartilage out onto the nearby plate.

"I can't take the risk of you turning on me. Besides, it masks your ki from those machines that could find you. You'll have your chance to fight when I say so," he spat out, sneering.

"You're not my master. If my mate finds me a captive when he gets here, he'll destroy you!" she practically shouted, shoving pieces of apple into her mouth. No smells of poison were present in any of the food, to her relief.

"That's why you'd better work with me. I possess the power to kill you. But you're too valuable. And wouldn't it help your plan if I controlled this planet? Speaking of, what ARE your orders?" Piccolo demanded.

"You've a lot of questions," she shrugged, sending him a venomous glare.

"Yes, and you know answers. If you don't cooperate you'll die from hunger. I saw that you were weak without food," said Piccolo.

"Fine, Namekian," she snapped. Her hand went to her throat when a lump of apple stuck there. Pounding on her chest she dislodged it.

"All right that's better," smirked Piccolo.

"Before I continue, may I see if the human Bulma is alive? She has my scouter."

"A moment," Piccolo said. He rose and turned on a television screen, across the room. Pointing to it, he backed away with folded arms. Images swirled into a picture of a lavish suite, where the blue haired female was slowly pacing back and forth looking bored.

"She's alive then?" voiced Tomic. Swinging her legs around, she sat up with her hands braced on the edge of the bed.

"Yes. You're correct about her being valuable. It seems that you neglected to tell me she's a scientist. Captain Scarlet filled me in on that detail. She won't be bored for too long, because I'll put her to work on some technology to fry those machines," told her Piccolo. He strode over and poured clear sparkling water into two crystal goblets. Taking one, he handed it to Tomic, who sat still on the edge of her bed. Around her neck the ki collar crackled.

"Thank you," she murmured, realizing he was trying to be somewhat civilized. Piccolo sat down in the leather easy chair, sipping his goblet of spring water.

"You know a hell of a lot, for a monkey woman," said Piccolo. "I can see that as long as you do what I say, you'll be pretty valuable. But cross me and you'll die."

"I only want Kakkarot," she replied firmly.

"Why?"

"He's part of my family."

"I don't care, I'm still going to kill him," he sneered.

"You had better NOT. Once I take him with me, it would be like he was dead to you because he's not coming back here."

"Why shouldn’t I just hold you captive?" Piccolo demanded, picking up his crystal goblet again. His neck muscles twitched with the intake of several swallows of water. He leaned back in his large chair a leg over his other.

"Because there are those who are stronger then me. If you try and keep me here, they'll come after you. And believe me they're FAR more powerful than I. Especially my mate," she vouched smugly.

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Your mate?"

"Yes. He'll know if I'm harmed. He's probably already on his way here, my Lord. You cross him, or let me come to harm, and he'll wipe out this whole planet," The Saiyan warned darkly, crossing her arms.

Piccolo asked her again, slamming his goblet down, "I'll kill you here and now, unless you tell me anything ELSE I should know. Because you won't take this world without a fight!"

"Then you'll end up dying, idiot," snickered Tomic. "You're dead unless you play your cards right. Now you've got me under your thumb but soon… you'll be history."

"And who else besides your MATE are we talking about?"

"My mate, my commander, and the Prince," succinctly stated the captive.

The Namekian opened his mouth in shock. "Prince? Wait a minute!"

"The Prince of my race," she expounded. "As powerful as I am, he's twenty times my strength. He'd blow this world away with an energy blast. He's not someone you want to piss off."

"This is too much," Piccolo grumbled, shaking his head. He paced frantically and all of sudden, a cruel grin spread over his face. "Wait you said you're mercenaries. What if I offer you gold and gems? I have a lot here you can take… anything if he'd leave us alone. Even technology. That Brief's woman owns Capsule, and you don't have anything like THAT do you?"

"You have a point," considered Tomic.

"And that Prince of yours is looking for a mate? You've got the future heir to Capsule. You hold her for ransom and that Dr. Briefs would give you anything you wanted. And then the Prince can barter with me personally, if he had the resources to build elsewhere," Piccolo continued with his negotiation attempt.

"I have to admit I haven't thought of that," The Saiya-jin female said.

"You don't have much choice. I won't let them take this world. I might be from Namek but Chikyuu is my own, and I plan to rule it. And I'll fight to the death no matter what," promised Piccolo.

"I see. So, what do you wish me to do?" Tomic sighed.

"It involves this Goku,” he said.

“Why do you wish to kill him?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Remind me why?”

"He slew my father," spit Piccolo angrily. "I'm going to avenge him, and take over this world as he wanted."

"I see," she exhaled slowly. "What do you ask of me?"

"You're going to enter the tournament too. Since you gave me these Saibamen, I’ll use them for my elite fighting force. You, however, will be my assistant and pupil, entering the tournament at my side,” Piccolo smirked resting his chin on his folded hands. He then placed his elbows on the table.

“I see. But how about taking off this device now, eh?” she said stubbornly.

Piccolo slammed down his goblet, then leaned across the table. His face darkened with anger. Poking a finger in her face he snapped, "Don't question my motives. I’ve been MORE than understanding, female. Be glad I spared you. As long as you continue to be of use then you'll remain alive. But betray me, and you will die horribly!”

In and out Tomic’s chest heaved. Around her neck gleamed the hated ki suppressor. Piccolo set the remote control in clear view on the brocaded tablecloth. Picking it up, he held his clawed thumb above the red button menacingly. A slow smile revealed his sharp teeth as he said, “Remember this little device? I’ve figured out how Dr. Gero brought us to heel. And it has several settings. Don’t make me have to use it on you. I’d much rather have you as a willing ally.”

“I see. Well I guess I have no choice then. But be warned, if I die, then the consequences for you will be much worse,” Tomic exhaled sharply.

Piccolo grunted, leaning back in his chair again. He retrieved the remote control, hooking it to the blue sash crossing his waist. Charmingly he smiled, saying, “Good. I know the stakes are high on your side. You help me, you live. However, don’t underestimate my powers. I know that you say your mate is far more powerful than I, but you have no idea that my powers are growing steadily every day. That little scouter of yours only detects what I let you sense. My true potential has not even begun to be tapped.”

With that, he swirled his cape dramatically and exited the room imperiously, making Tomic roll her eyes in annoyance. Great, I’m being imprisoned by an egomaniac who wants to rule this world, she thought, extremely frustrated. At least she wasn’t hungry anymore she consoled herself, once again touching the despised collar. She didn’t feel up to going to that tournament, but apparently, she had no damned choice.

That next day, two cloaked figures landed before the Tournament sign-in booth. Tall turbans crowned Piccolo and Tomic's heads while they strode forward and glared down at the judges. Reluctantly she had agreed to wear the clothing he had provided so generously. It wouldn't do to have people running in any more confusion at her dressed in that terrifying space armor. Out of the corner of her eye, Tomic saw many fighters lined up alongside and behind them in their various outer clothes. Others wore their fighting costumes already but carried duffel bags. She desperately reached out with her mind, hoping that the sensations she had felt in her subconscious at night were true. Disturbed dreams had given way to thoughts of Raditz and Goku.

Bending over before the judge, Piccolo seized the pen in his great fingers. With a flourish he signed in, and she scribbled something in her own language.

"Excuse me, miss, but what does that say?" the Judge asked, lifting his glasses.

"Dammit, let me," Piccolo cursed. He scribbled something next to her strange squarish writing, after shoving her aside.

"Ma Junior, is it? And Maj-atomic," he nodded. "You're new to the tournament, right?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Piccolo glared at him. "Where do we wait?"

"Go in through there for the locker rooms. Ladies on the left, men on the right. You'll get your lottery numbers soon," the ticket clerk explained.

"This way," Piccolo barked, nudging her away from the main crowds to an isolated spot. It was still early in the morning, and many fighters were still showing up to sign in. Even though they'd sent in their entry forms, if they didn't sign up in person they'd forfeit their spots. Many pairs of eyes followed the two turbaned figures milling in the shadows. If Piccolo was trying not to attract attention, he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Where are we going?"

"To watch the fighting. Don't ask stupid questions, female," reprimanded Piccolo. "The less you talk the better for both of us."

Folding his arms, he levitated upward in the shade of a building, gesturing her to join him. He held the remote control for the ki dampener. A twist of a dial gave her enough to allow her to float up by his side and stand. They were on the roof of the pagoda, overlooking a huge square grid. People shoved against one another for the best view of the fighting space.

"That's where the semifinals will take place. But it looks as if we'll have to go inside for the preliminaries," he grunted. "Meet me here after qualification. I will know where you are at all times, so don't even try running off. Some of my people are also watching from the staff as well."

"Fine let's get this over with," she growled, hating the collar around her neck.

"Women this way, males this way," called the judges. "Please line up and take your numbers. You'll be paired up in six blocks. There are seventy-two participants, which is significantly less than last year. But all of you are the world's finest fighters."

Tomic glanced around, unable to sense much but the huge collection of ki. She had never learned how to sense it on her own that well, and relying on a scouter hadn't helped the process much. Fortunately, Piccolo had pounded a few last minute lessons into her head. The uneasy alliance disturbed her, for she wondered if he would keep his word not to kill Goku completely.

While the 23rd Budokai’s preliminaries transpired, Bulma had not been idle. She watched the proceedings from the tiny TV in the lab Piccolo so generously provided. Sweat blistered on her forehead, which she wiped away with one hand. It had been unpleasant to spend the night in a strange place, even though he had provided her with a four poster bed. To Bulma, any prison was terrible, even if it was gold plated.

"Whew, I hope I can get this done. They aren't busting their asses to save mine," Bulma lamented as she worked tirelessly on inventions she was forced to tinker with, namely a device to neutralize any further Red Ribbon androids. So far she had a rudimentary bomb that could disrupt circuitry that she was about to put into a capsule.

Another match had come and gone to be followed by one more. She then resumed her fiddling while the one known as Raditz fought someone called Captain Scarlet. To her shock, the guy had bested Piccolo's henchman. His spiky hair and ferocious widow's peak made him look like the fiercest man alive. He even bared his fangs at the man. Humiliated, Scarlet left the ring after being slammed into the floor by a huge gauntleted hand.

"Well folks now we're down to the wire! Four fighters have been eliminated leaving us with four contenders for the top spot. Who will it be? Son Goku, Maj atomic, Majunior, or Raditz? Stay tuned for the semifinals!" crooned the announcer. Bulma popped her head up from the space pod.

"Just two more wires and I'm outta here," she declared, glancing down at her latest project, a smoke bomb. Drops of sweat dripped into the Saiyan pod. A knock slammed on the door.

"Hold your horses! Jeez!" Bulma snapped. Out of the box on the table, a hiss of steam filled the room. The door swung open to reveal one of Piccolo's henchmen.

"What on Chikyuu…" he coughed.

Bulma grabbed a wrench and swung it hard hitting the back of his skull with a sickening crack. He toppled to the floor seeing birds and stars in whirling orbits. Flipping the wrench in her hand, the Capsule heiress laughed triumphantly. "Hahha! Don't mess with Bulma Briefs, you jerk!"

She jumped up and down with glee before reaching for her case of capsules. With a BANG she capsuled the Saiyan pod and the Regeneration tank she’d been working on for the last day. Another capsule tossed down created a thick cloud of gas. Quickly, Bulma rushed off down the hall, protected from the resulting noxious fumes by the gas mask shielding her face. Alarms blared their stunning klaxon all around her. As she raced through the halls bursting with panicking foot soldiers she threw down some more small spheres that released choking rotten egg fumes.

"Have some knockout gas on me, boys!" she giggled through her mask. Smoke pooled around her racing body, which was quickly moving out in the empty courtyard. Reaching down she tossed a 7 capsule on the ground. Another BANG of smoke later produced a hydro jet. She leaped into the cockpit, punching control buttons to fire up the engines.

Thankfully, the guard had been stupid enough to let her keep her capsules. They wouldn't get the secret devices she had been forced to repair under Piccolo's stern urgings. Unfortunately, the inventor neglected to consider the radar beams tracking her small hydro jet’s launch. Angrily, one of Piccolo's henchmen saw it rising out of the smoke and fuss of Piccolo's fortress.

"Prisoner's escaped!" he shouted. "Get Captain Scarlet!"

"At once sir!" shouted a soldier. He saluted, rushing off in the direction of the communications scrambler.

Bulma swallowed hard, pressing the control stick forward. She had figured that they would discover her exit sooner or later. On her hip bleeped the small scouter she had taken from Tomic. Opening it up, she fixed it on her right ear so the eyepiece fitted over her face. Traces of ki tracked across in bastardized Japanese.

"Oh shit I knew it was too good to be true," she cursed. Two traces of one thousand each rose slowly up from the horizon, rocketing toward her at great speed. What stunned her was another that shot out from the direction of the Budokai.

Over the radio crackled an incoming message. She depressed the key to see the angry face of Captain Scarlet. "So, you managed to escape, did you? Naughty girl!"

"Get bent freak!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "Aren't you fighting in the tournament?"

"Thanks to your foolish friends I'm not. But no matter. I'm giving you one chance to turn around and land. Lord Piccolo will be furious!" Scarlet barked.

"Eat my dust," she laughed, pressing the control to banish his face in a swirling hiss of static. Soon the BUDDA BUDDA of machine gun bullets pinged her wings. She pressed a button in the side panel while taking the controls in her left hand. In her right she grabbed the yoke of a machine gun handle. Through the cross-hairs, she spotted the fighters scrambling after her. Soon she answered their volleys with a percussive tattoo of her own.

Explosions blossomed all around her. Alabaster cheeks split with her grin, then she threw back her head and laughed, "HAHAHAH! Score one for Bulma!! WOOHOO! This girl CAN take care of herself!"

Outside, the hydro jet the pursuing craft exchanged fire. Unfortunately, it was all too clear that Bulma wouldn't give up without a fight. In the midst of the melee rocketed the black and blue uniformed figure of a defeated Captain Scarlet. Over his headset he shouted, "Let her go!"

"What sir?" came the confused reply.

"Break off. I'll pursue! That bitch won't escape Captain Scarlet!" vowed Piccolo's henchman. He knew it was only a matter of time before Piccolo won or lost. Either way he would come out ahead. Tearing off the mystery tribe uniform, he revealed the Red Ribbon uniform underneath.

Two figures shot out alongside his ki trail. He rocketed through the atmosphere flanked by the Frankenstein no. eight, and the alluringly beautiful no. seven. The female cyborg adjusted her newly installed cybernetic arm with pride. "I will have to thank the good Doctor for the upgrade, Captain."

"As you were, Lieutenant Violet," he nodded in appreciation. She blew him a kiss, shooting ahead of them by five hundred yards.

"Why must we chase a defenseless female?" lamented no. eight.

"You're not programmed to ask questions. You're programmed to obey your father and creator. So if you don't want to be sent to the genetic scrap bin you will obey my commands!" Scarlet barked at him.

"Sorry number six," no. eight apologized, veiling his face with one hand in fear. Captain Scarlet, known as Android six brandished his fist crackling with red ki.

"There she is, I've spotted her!" shouted Violet from ahead. She gestured to a contrail made by a hydro jet.

"Shoot her down!" commanded Captain Scarlet.

"Foo fighter!" Violet shrilled, whirling her hand around. White spheres flatted into disk shapes, speeding after the hydro jet. Whirling about they punched holes in the wings before she could bat an eyelash. Scarlet and no. eight watched the movement of Violet shifting her hands to and fro. Smoke poured out of the engine of the jet, billowing up into the blue skies.

"But you said she wouldn't die!" said no. eight.

"What are you doing?" Scarlet yelled, zipping after her. "Stop it!"

"I brought her down! I only hit her engine. She should have a parachute!" no. six glanced over her shoulder at him.

"I said that to Piccolo. Besides I just want her vehicle to crash, not destroyed!" he called out. "no. eight, no. six, get down there and stop that jet!

Around Bulma's plane, fire and smoke obscured the forward view. Sparks crackled over the control panel, causing Bulma to jump back and yelp, "Oh no, no!" Angrily, she slammed her fist down, then seized the small carbon dioxide cylinder to put out a small fire seeping out of the far panel.

Her belt yanked her back into the seat in response to the deck pitching forward. Her stomach left far behind in the corkscrew dive her plane plummeted in. She clenched the control stick desperately, trying to yank the nose up, to no avail. Heart pounding madly in her chest, Bulma hit the eject button. She had learned her lesson well the first time this happened with one of her hydro jets. Being shot down over Goku's West Province 439 wasn't an experience she cared to repeat. Although his power pole had shot through her shirt and pinned her falling body to a cliff side, the resulting crisis of having peed in her underwear was enough to prompt Bulma to install a safety device in the subsequent Capsule vehicles.

Past her face shot the glass, propelling the seat up. She didn't count on the parachute tangling up in its own cord. Bulma shrieked as she spiraled head over heels out of the control cockpit. All around her, the world blossomed with fire in a deadly garden of explosions. Sounds rumbled through her bones nonstop. Winds slashed through her hair, whipping it around her face to blind her. From her field of vision flickering numbers alerted her to a powerful reading of fifteen thousand zipping around. She caught sight of a blue uniformed figure aiming his finger toward her. Sizzling beams sliced through the safety harness of her seat. Bulma next felt the seat dropping and empty air on her posterior from the seat dropping away.

Empty space swallowed her up despite her urge to hug her own body into a tight ball. Something told her to spread herself wide out instead with a potent shriek of warning. Bulma responded to that warning flag by hurling her arms and legs wide. Although it might not bleed off much velocity to her drop, it might stop her long enough for a Z warrior to stop her.

"Oh shit, I'm dead," she whimpered.

"Quiet small one. You aren't dead," spoke a deep male voice, raspy with a wildness she couldn't identify. The words were spoken in an odd guttural enunciation, letting her know he was quite foreign.

Something latched around her wrist with a gentle but firm grip. Bulma sensed the warmth of another body in proximity to hers. The smell of ozone marred the silence. A musk scent filled her nostrils, causing her to blink up at the body plummeting next to hers. Ebony eyes flickered into her blue ones, scrutinizing her through every level till her soul felt it was being laid bare to the bone. She squeaked in fear, grasping onto the muscular figure sheathed in white armor. Two solid muscular arms rested under her body, cradling her against a hard contoured surface. Hot breath pulsed against her neck, while her fingers touched feathery soft bristles.

"Who... what are you?" Bulma stammered. Astonishment replaced pounding fear. For a second, a flickering series of images chronicled her time on Earth in incredible detail. Everything pixilated till the experience was arrested by the sensation of this male being that had saved her.

"I am Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans. You may address me as your Majesty, blue female," he rasped.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," Bulma panted, blinking in the light of the sun blasting her unexpectedly in the face. Her stomach stopped free falling along with her body, but still felt like the rest was floating. If she peered over her side not blocked by him, she saw the contours of wrinkled mountains and shimmering seas glistening under fluffy clouds. Billowing black smoke curled from down below, while they hovered almost a mile up.

"I'm in no mood for frivolity, woman," he said quietly. "You will not try to escape. You will not scream or attempt to distract me in any manner or I won't hesitate to drop you. I won't endanger you unless you give me sufficient reason."

"Excuse the hell ME?" Bulma blinked at him. "Do you know who you're TALKING to? My name is not Woman; it's Bulma Briefs. MS. Bulma to you, buster!"

"Enlighten me," he smirked. Gloved hands locked her body under the back and the knees in a grip of steel. Bulma squirmed but could not break free of the Prince's hold. Not that she wanted to so high above the Earth, yet she felt quite uncomfortable with the way in which his hands were positioned. One was precariously close to her breast while the other was sliding down to her butt. She shoved her face into his neck, squeezing her eyes shut to keep out the terrifying blur around them.

"Well your HIGHNESS, you're talking to the Vice President of Capsule Corps, probably the largest company on this planet. And you're NOT going to order ME around. Thank you for saving my ass, but that gives you NO right to..."

"Shut up, will you! Enough of that screaming. I'm going DEAF!" he snapped at her. Bulma gasped in shock. No male had ever dared talk back to her. Not even Yamcha. To have someone challenge her so directly suddenly felt strangely exciting.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from shooting back, "Then I'll scream all I want! You will NOT speak to me like that asshole!"

"If you want my respect, earn it, otherwise zip it!" he snarled.

Forget danger. This man could probably kill her with one finger for all she knew. Yet she couldn't help being drawn to him. What was it about her and bad boys? Perhaps she could try using a little feminine wile on him. Provided he wasn't gay like Blue, she lamented. That was one thing that wouldn't help her.

Changing tactics she battered her eyelashes at him and said in an awestruck voice, "I'm sorry your Highness. What sort of 'Prince' are you?"

"A warrior, who will stop at nothing to defend what is his," he answered. "Now remain silent. I shall land soon. Moreover, you will NOT try anything funny. I saved your for a very specific purpose. And if you behave I shall reveal to you what it is."

"Oh how GENEROUS of you," she grumbled at him. He cocked a brow in amusement at the audacity of the female. She had an attitude and a tongue that seemed disturbingly familiar. Little did she know how well he could read her.

"You don't know what you are talking about, woman," he muttered. "Unlike you, I take what I wish. It isn't simply GIVEN to me."

Bulma's jaw dropped, for it blew her mind that someone this stranger seemed to either read minds or be an extremely good guesser. "Butt out, jerk! I don't care if you ARE royalty, you won't speak to me like this!"

"I shall speak to you in ANY manner I chose woman because I'm the one holding you a mile above your miserable third rate-planet!" Vegita shouted back. His voice drowned hers out, causing her to shiver in terror. Convinced he would drop her if provoked, she clutched tightly to him with a death grip and whispered a prayer to Kami. For a few minutes, all she could do was shiver, blinking up at him with sky blue eyes. Something compelled her to not back down however, because if he WAS a Prince then perhaps he could be convinced that SHE was somehow royalty also. In addition, royalty did not act like a scared little twit.

"Stupid spoiled BRAT," she mumbled under her breath. He certainly acted like someone royal, she lamented. Complete with the stuck-up attitude and an exotic accent that she could not identify. Like someone who had learned English through a correspondence course and retained the accent of his or her native place.

"Takes one to know one, woman," he mumbled back, wondering what the hell he had saved her life for. The next moment he achieved his goal of silencing her, so he simply flared blue ki around them both to keep enough oxygen in the envelope so she could breathe. Bulma left her stomach behind when Vegeta rocketed from a dead stop to nearly Mach 1. Fortunately, his ki cushioned her body from the massive G force.

She couldn't help mumbling, "Some Prince Charming… he's a pain in the ASS!"